The Fortune Teller
IThe prologue to this somewhat dramatic history was of the simplest. Theaffair came to a climax, if one may speak metaphorically, in fire andsword and high passion, but it began like the month of March. Mr Bostock(a younger brother of the senior partner in the famous firm of Bostocks,drapers, at Hanbridge) was lounging about the tennis-court attached tohis house at Hillport. Hillport has long been known as the fashionablesuburb of Bursley, and indeed as the most aristocratic quarter strictlywithin the Five Towns; there certainly are richer neighbourhoods not faroff, but such neighbourhoods cannot boast that they form part of theFive Towns--no more than Hatfield can boast that it is part of London. Aman who lives in a detached house at Hillport, with a tennis-court, maybe said to have succeeded in life. And Mr Bostock had succeeded. Aconsulting engineer of marked talent, he had always worked extremelyhard and extremely long, and thus he had arrived at luxuries. The chiefof his luxuries was his daughter Florence, aged twenty-three, heightfive feet exactly, as pretty and as neat as a new doll, of expensive andobstinate habits. It was Florence who was the cause of the episode, andI mention her father only to show where Florence stood in the world. Sheruled her father during perhaps eleven months of the year. In thetwelfth month (which was usually January--after the Christmas bills)there would be an insurrection, conducted by the father with much spiritfor a time, but ultimately yielding to the forces of the government.Florence had many admirers; a pretty woman, who habitually rules a richfather, is bound to have many admirers. But she had two in particular;her cousin, Ralph Martin, who had been apprenticed to her father, andAdam Tellwright, a tile manufacturer at Turnhill.These four--the father and daughter and the rivals--had been playingtennis that Saturday afternoon. Mr Bostock, though touching on fifty,retained a youthful athleticism; he looked and talked younger than hisyears, and he loved the society of young people. If he wandered solitaryand moody about the tennis-court now, it was because he had a great dealon his mind besides business. He had his daughter's future on his mind.A servant with apron-strings waving like flags in the breeze came fromthe house with a large loaded tea-tray, and deposited it on a wickertable on the small lawn at the end of the ash court. The rivals werereclining in deck chairs close to the table; the Object of Desire, allin starched white, stood over the table and with quick deliciousmovements dropped sugar and poured milk into tinkling porcelain."Now, father," she called briefly, without looking up, as she seized theteapot.He approached, gazing thoughtfully at the group. Yes, he was worried.And everyone was secretly worried. The situation was exceedinglydelicate, fragile, breakable. Mr Bostock looked uneasily first at AdamTellwright, tall, spick and span, self-confident, clever, shining, withhis indubitable virtues mainly on the outside. If ever any man ofthirty-two in all this world was eligible, Adam Tellwright was.Decidedly he had a reputation for preternaturally keen smartness intrade, but in trade that cannot be called a defect; on the contrary, ifa man has virtues, you cannot precisely quarrel with him because theyhappen to be on the outside; the principal thing is to have virtues. Andthen Mr Bostock looked uneasily at Ralph Martin, heavy, short, dark,lowering, untidy, often incomprehensible, and more often rude; withvirtues concealed as if they were secret shames. Ralph was capricious.At moments he showed extraordinary talent as an engineer; at others hebehaved like a nincompoop. He would be rich one day; but he had aformidable temper. The principal thing in favour of Ralph Martin wasthat he and Florence had always been "something to each other." Indeedof late years it had been begun to be understood that the match was "asgood as arranged." It was taken for granted. Then Adam Tellwright haddropped like a bomb into the Bostock circle. He had fallen heavily anddisastrously in love with the slight Florence (whom he could havecrushed and eaten). At the start his case was regarded as hopeless, andRalph Martin had scorned him. But Adam Tellwright soon caused gossip tosing a different tune, and Ralph Martin soon ceased to scorn him. Adamundoubtedly made a profound impression on Florence Bostock. He began bydazzling her, and then, as her eyes grew accustomed to the glare, hegradually showed her his good qualities. Everything that skill and tactcould do Tellwright did. The same could not be said of Ralph Martin.Most people had a vague feeling that Ralph had not been treated fairly.Mr Bostock had this feeling. Yet why? Nothing had been settled.Florence's heart was evidently still open to competition, and AdamTellwright had a perfect right to compete. Still, most peoplesympathized with Ralph. But Florence did not. Young girls are like that.Now the rivals stood about equal. No one knew how the battle would go.Adam did not know. Ralph did not know. Florence assuredly did not know.Mr Bostock was quite certain, of a night, that Adam would win, but thenext morning he was quite certain that his nephew would win.No wonder that the tea-party, every member of it tremendouslypreoccupied by the great battle, was not distinguished by light andnatural gaiety. Great battles cannot be talked about till they are overand the last shot fired. And it is not to be expected that people shouldbe bright when each knows the others to be deeply preoccupied by amatter which must not even be mentioned. The tea-party wasself-conscious, highly. Therefore, it ate too many cakes and chocolate,and forgot to count its cups of tea. The conversation nearly died ofinanition several times, and at last it actually did die, and thequartette gazed in painful silence at its corpse. Anyone who hasassisted at this kind of a tea-party will appreciate the situation. Why,Adam Tellwright himself was out of countenance. To his honour, it was hewho first revived the corpse. A copy of the previous evening's Signalwas lying on an empty deck-chair. It had been out all night, and wasdampish. Tellwright picked it up, having finished his tea, and threw acareless eye over it. He was determined to talk about something."By Jove!" he said. "That Balsamo johnny is coming to Hanbridge!""Yes, didn't you know?" said Florence, agreeably bent on resuscitatingthe corpse."What! The palmistry man?" asked Mr Bostock, with a laugh."Yes." And Adam Tellwright read: "'Balsamo, the famous palmist andreader of the future, begs to announce that he is making a tour throughthe principal towns, and will visit Hanbridge on the 22nd inst.,remaining three days. Balsamo has thousands of testimonials to theaccuracy of his predictions, and he absolutely guarantees not only toread the past correctly, but to foretell the future. Address: 22 MachinStreet, Hanbridge. 10 to 10. Appointment advisable in order to avoiddelay.' There! He'll find himself in prison one day, that gentlemanwill!""It's astounding what fools people are!" observed Mr Bostock."Yes, isn't it!" said Adam Tellwright."If he'd been a gipsy," said Ralph Martin, savagely, "the police wouldhave had him long ago." And he spoke with such grimness that he mighthave been talking of Adam Tellwright."They say his uncle and his grandfather before him were boththought-readers, or whatever you call it," said Florence."Do they?" exclaimed Mr Bostock, in a different tone."Oh!" exclaimed Adam, also in a different tone."I wonder whether that's true!" said Ralph Martin.The rumour that Balsamo's uncle and grandfather had been readers of thepast and of the future produced of course quite an impression on theparty. But each recognized how foolish it was to allow oneself to be soimpressed in such an illogical manner. And therefore all the men burstinto violent depreciation of Balsamo and of the gulls who consulted him.And by the time they had done with Balsamo there was very little left ofhim. Anyhow, Adam Tellwright's discovery in the Signal had saved thetea-party from utter fiasco.
IINo. 22 Machin Street, Hanbridge, was next door to Bostock's vastemporium, and exactly opposite the more exclusive, but still mighty,establishment of Ephraim Brunt, the greatest draper in the Five Towns.It was, therefore, in the very heart and centre of retail commerce. Nowoman who respected herself could buy even a sheet of pins withoutgoing past No. 22 Machin Street. The ground-floor was a confectioner'sshop, with a back room where tea and Berlin pancakes were served to theelite who had caught from London the fashion of drinking tea in publicplaces. By the side of the confectioner's was an open door and astaircase, which led to the first floor and the other floors. A cardhung by a cord to a nail indicated that Balsamo had pitched his movingtent for a few days on the first floor, in a suite of offices latelyoccupied by a solicitor. Considering that the people who visit a palmistare just as anxious to publish their doings as the people who visit apawnbroker--and no more--it might be thought that Balsamo had ill-chosenhis site. But this was not so. Balsamo, a deep student of certain sortsof human nature, was perfectly aware that, just as necessity will forcea person to visit a pawnbroker, so will inherited superstition force aperson to visit a palmist, no matter what the inconveniences. If he haderected a wigwam in the middle of Crown Square and people had had todecide between not seeing him at all and running the gauntlet of acrowd's jeering curiosity, he would still have had many clients.Of course when you are in love you are in love. Anything may happen toyou then. Most things do happen. For example, Adam Tellwright foundhimself ascending the stairs of No. 22 Machin Street at an early hourone morning. He was, I need not say, mounting to the third floor to givean order to the potter's modeller, who had a studio up there. Still hestopped at the first floor, knocked at a door labelled "Balsamo,"hesitated, and went in. I need not say that this was only fun on hispart. I need not say that he had no belief whatever in palmistry, andwas not in the least superstitious. A young man was seated at a desk, astylish young man. Adam Tellwright smiled, as one who expected thestylish young man to join in the joke. But the young man did not smile.So Adam Tellwright suddenly ceased to smile."Are you Mr Balsamo?" Adam inquired."No. I'm his secretary."His secretary! Strange how the fact that Balsamo was guarded by asecretary, and so stylish a secretary, affected the sagacious andhard-headed Adam!"You wish to see him?" the secretary demanded coldly."I suppose I may as well," said Adam, sheepishly."He is disengaged, I think. But I will make sure. Kindly sit down."Down sat Adam, playing nervously with his hat, and intensely hoping thatno other client would come in and trap him."Mr Balsamo will see you," said the secretary, emerging through a doubleblack portiere. "The fee is a guinea."He resumed his chair and drew towards him a book of receipt forms.A guinea!However, Adam paid it. The receipt form said: "Received from Mr ---- thesum of one guinea for professional assistance.--Per Balsamo, J.H.K.,"and a long flourish. The words "one guinea" were written. Idle to denythat this receipt form was impressive. As Adam meekly followed "J.H.K."in to the Presence, he felt exactly as if he was being ushered into adentist's cabinet. He felt as though he had been caught in the wheels ofan unstoppable machine and was in vague but serious danger.The Presence was a bold man, with a flowing light brown moustache, blueeyes, and a vast forehead. He wore a black velvet coat, and sat at asmall table on which was a small black velvet cushion. There were twodoors to the rooms, each screened by double black portieres, and beyonda second chair and a large transparent ball, such as dentists use,there was no other furniture."Better give me your hat," said the secretary, and took it from Adam,who parted from it reluctantly, as if from his last reliable friend.Then the portieres swished together, and Adam was alone with Balsamo.Balsamo stared at him; did not even ask him to sit down."Why do you come to me? You don't believe in me," said Balsamo, curtly."Why waste your money?""How can I tell whether I believe in you or not," protested AdamTellwright, the shrewd man of business, very lamely. "I've come to seewhat you can do."Balsamo snapped his fingers."Sit down then," said he, "and put your hands on this cushion.No!--palms up!"Balsamo gaped at them a long time, rubbing his chin. Then he rose,adjusted the transparent glass ball so that the light came through it onto Adam's hands, sat down again and resumed his stare."Do you want to know everything?" he asked."Yes--of course.""Everything?""Yes." A trace of weakness in this affirmative."Well, you mustn't expect to live much after fifty-two. Look at the lineof life there." He spoke in such a casual, even antipathetic tone thatAdam was startled."You've had success. You will have it continuously. But you won't livelong.""What have I to avoid?" Adam demanded."Can't avoid your fate. You asked me to tell you everything.""Tell me about my past," said Adam, feebly, the final remnant ofshrewdness in him urging him to get the true measure of Balsamo beforematters grew worse."Your past?" Balsamo murmured. "Keep your left hand quite still,please. You aren't married. You're in business. You've never thought ofmarriage--till lately. It's not often I see a hand like yours. Yourslate is clean. Till lately you never thought of marriage.""How lately?""Who can say when the idea of marriage first came to you? You couldn'tsay yourself. Perhaps about three months ago. Yes--three months. I seewater--you have crossed the sea. Is all this true?""Yes," admitted Adam."You're in love, of course. Did you know you have a rival?""Yes." Once more Adam was startled."Is he fair? No, he's not fair. He's dark. Isn't he?""Yes.""Ah! The woman. Uncertain, uncertain. Mind you I never undertake toforetell anything; all I guarantee is that what I do foretell willhappen. Now, you will be married in a year or eighteen months." Balsamostuck his chin out with the gesture of one who imparts grave news; thenpaused reflectively."Whom to?""Ah! There are two women. One fair, one dark. Which one do you prefer?""The dark one," Adam replied in spite of himself."Perhaps the fair one has not yet come into your life? No. But she willdo.""But which shall I marry?""Look at that line. No, here! See how indistinct and confused it is.Your destiny is not yet settled. Frankly, I cannot tell you withcertainty. No one can go in advance of destiny. Ah! Young man, Isympathize with you.""Then, really you can't tell me.""Listen! I might help you. Yes, I might help you.""How?""The others will come to me.""What others?""Your rival. And the woman you love.""And then?""What is not marked on your hand may be very clearly marked on theirs.Come to me again.""How do you know they will come? They both said they should not.""You said you would not. But you are here. Rely on me. They will come. Imight do a great deal for you. Of course it will cost you more. Onelives in a world of money, and I sell my powers, like the rest ofmankind. I am proud to do so.""How much will it cost?""Five pounds. You are free to take it or leave it, naturally."Adam Tellwright put his hand in his pocket."Have the goodness to pay my secretary," Balsamo stopped him icily."I beg pardon," said Adam, out of countenance."Of course if they do not come the money will be returned. Now, beforeyou go, you might tell me all you know about him, and about her. All.Omit nothing. It is not essential, but it might help me. There is achance that it might make things clearer than they otherwise could be.The true palmist never refuses any aid."And Adam thereupon went into an elaborate account of Florence Bostockand Ralph Martin. He left out nothing, not even that Ralph had a wart onhis chin, and had once broken a leg; nor that Florence had once beennearly drowned in a swimming-bath in London.
IIIIt was the same afternoon.Balsamo stared calmly at a young dark-browed man who had entered hissanctuary with much the same air as a village bumpkin assumes when he isabout to be shown the three-card trick on a race-course. Balsamo did noteven ask him to sit down."Why do you come to me? You don't believe in me," said Balsamo, curtly."Why waste your half-sovereign?"Ralph Martin, not being talkative, said nothing."However!" Balsamo proceeded. "Sit down, please. Let me look at yourhands. Ah! yes! Do you want to know anything?""Yes, of course.""Everything?""Certainly.""Let me advise you, then, to give up all thoughts of that woman.""What woman?""You know what woman. She is a very little woman. Once she was nearlydrowned--far from here. You've loved her for a long time. You thought itwas a certainty. And upon my soul you were justified in thinkingso--almost! Look at that line. But it isn't a certainty. Look at thatline!"Balsamo gazed at him coldly, and Ralph Martin knew not what to do or tosay. He was astounded; he was frightened; he was desolated. He perceivedat once that palmistry was after all a terrible reality."Tell me some more," he murmured.And so Balsamo told him a great deal more, including full details of awoman far finer than Florence Bostock, whom he was destined to meet inthe following year. But Ralph Martin would have none of this new woman.Then Balsamo said suddenly:"She is coming. I see her coming.""Who?""The little woman. She is dressed in white, with a gold-and-whitesunshade, and yellow gloves and boots, and she has a gold reticule inher hand. Is that she?"Ralph Martin admitted that it was she. On the other hand, Balsamo didnot admit that he had seen her an hour earlier and had made anappointment with her.There was a quiet knock on the door. Ralph started."You hear," said Balsamo, quietly, "I fear you will never win her.""You said just now positively that I shouldn't," Ralph exclaimed."I did not," said Balsamo. "I would like to help you. I am very sorryfor you. It is not often I see a hand like yours. I might be able tohelp you; the destiny is not yet settled.""I'll give you anything to help me," said Ralph."It will be a couple of guineas," said Balsamo."But what guarantee have I?" Ralph asked rudely, when he had paid themoney--to Balsamo, not to the secretary. Such changes of humour werecharacteristic of him."None!" said Balsamo, with dignity, putting the sovereigns on the table."But I am sorry for you. I will tell you what you can do. You can gobehind those curtains there"--he pointed to the inner door--"and listento all that I say."A proposal open to moral objections! But when you are in the state thatRalph Martin was in, and have experienced what he had just experienced,your out-look upon morals is apt to be disturbed.
IV"Young lady," Balsamo was saying. "Rest assured that I have not takenfive shillings from you for nothing. Your lover has a wart on his chin."Daintiness itself sat in front of him, with her little porcelain handslying on the black cushion. And daintiness was astonished intowithdrawing those hands."Please keep your hands still," said Balsamo, firmly, and proceeded:"But you have another lover, older, who has recently come into yourlife. Fair, tall. A successful man who will always be successful. Is itnot so?""Yes," a little voice muttered."You can't make up your mind between them? Answer me.""No.""And you wish to learn the future. I will tell you--you will marry thefair man. That is your destiny. And you will be very happy. You willsoon perceive the bad qualities of the one with the wart. He is a wickedman. I need not urge you to avoid him. You will do so.""A bad man!""A bad man. You see there are two sovereigns lying here. That man hasactually tried to bribe me to influence you in his favour?""Ralph?""Since you mention his Christian name, I will mention his surname. It iswritten here. Martin.""He can't have--possibly--"Balsamo strode with offended pride to the portiere, and pulled it away,revealing Mr Ralph Martin, who for the second time that afternoon knewnot what to say or to do."I tell you--" Ralph began, as red as fire."Silence, sir! Let this teach you not to try to corrupt an honestprofessional man! Surely I had amply convinced you of my powers! Takeyour miserable money!" He offered the miserable money to Ralph, whostuck his hands in his pockets, whereupon Balsamo flung the miserablemoney violently on to the floor.A deplorable scene followed, in which the presence of Balsamo did notprevent Florence Bostock from conveying clearly to Ralph what shethought of him. They spoke before Balsamo quite freely, as two peoplewill discuss maladies before a doctor. Ralph departed first; thenFlorence. Then Balsamo gathered up the sovereigns. He had honestlyearned Adam's fiver, and since Ralph had refused the two pounds--"I haveseen their hands," said Balsamo the next day to Adam Tellwright. "All isclear. In a month you will be engaged to her.""A month?""A month. I regret that I had a painful scene with your rival. But ofcourse professional etiquette prevents me from speaking of that. Let merepeat, in a month you will be engaged to her."This prophecy came true. Adam Tellwright, however, did not marryFlorence Bostock. One evening, in a secluded corner at a dance, RalphMartin, without warning, threw his arms angrily, brutally, instinctivelyround Florence's neck and kissed her. It was wrong of him. But heconquered her. Love is like that. It hides for years, and then pops out,and won't be denied. Florence's engagement to Adam was broken. Shemarried Ralph. She knew she was marrying a strange, dark-minded man ofuncertain temper, but she married him.As for the unimpeachable Adam, he was left with nothing but the uneasyfear that he was doomed to die at fifty-two. His wife (for he got one,and a good one) soon cured him of that.
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