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There
was
a
brief
commotion
from
within
,
the
series
of
hasty
domestic
sounds
that
might
,
in
a
less
exalted
house
,
have
been
made
by
,
say
,
someone
shovelling
the
lunch
plates
into
the
sink
and
tidying
the
laundry
out
of
sight
.
Eventually
the
door
swung
open
,
slowly
and
mysteriously
.
’
You
’
d
better
pretend
to
be
impreffed
,
’
said
the
doorknocker
conversationally
,
but
hampered
somewhat
by
the
ring
.
’
He
does
it
with
pulleys
and
a
bit
of
ftring
.
No
good
at
opening
-
fpells
,
fee
?
’
Mort
looked
at
the
grinning
metal
face
.
I
work
for
a
skeleton
who
can
walk
through
walls
,
he
told
himself
.
Who
am
I
to
be
surprised
at
anything
?
’
Thank
you
,
’
he
said
.
’
You
’
re
welcome
.
Wipe
your
feet
on
the
doormat
,
it
’
s
the
bootfcraper
’
s
day
off
.
’
The
big
low
room
inside
was
dark
and
shadowy
and
smelled
mainly
of
incense
but
slightly
of
boiled
cabbage
arid
elderly
laundry
and
the
kind
of
person
who
throws
all
his
socks
at
the
wall
and
wears
the
ones
that
don
’
t
stick
.
There
was
a
large
crystal
ball
with
a
crack
in
it
,
an
astrolabe
with
several
bits
missing
,
a
rather
scuffed
octogram
on
the
floor
,
and
a
stuffed
alligator
hanging
from
the
ceiling
.
A
stuffed
alligator
is
absolutely
standard
equipment
in
any
properly
-
run
magical
establishment
.
This
one
looked
as
though
it
hadn
’
t
enjoyed
it
much
.
A
bead
curtain
on
the
far
wall
was
flung
aside
with
a
dramatic
gesture
and
a
hooded
figure
stood
revealed
.
’
Beneficent
constellations
shine
on
the
hour
of
our
meeting
!
’
it
boomed
.
’
Which
ones
?
’
said
Mort
.
