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hear a strange
voice. ‘Rain in the south-east will soon spread to all districts,’ it said
knowingly. Catweazle peered out of the bushes. The voice was coming from a
small black box which had a fine silver wand sticking out at the top. Beside
the box, and with his back to Catweazle, a thin man sat fishing.
    ‘And
now back to the cricket,’ said the box.
    Catweazle
looked down at the grass but there was no cricket to be seen, and after a
moment the box began to talk again, this time in a different voice. Clearly it
was possessed of many demons.
    ‘It’s
Villiers again,’ it said in a hushed tone, ‘from the gas-works end. Slow left
arm round the wicket.’
    Catweazle
began to advance.
    ‘He’s
out!!’ shouted the box.
    Catweazle
fell over backwards in terror. The angler turned round sharply and looked a
little worried when he saw Catweazle sprawled on the grass.
    ‘Er...
afternoon,’ he said cautiously.
    ‘Fraser
came out to that one and misjudged it completely,’ said the box smugly.
    Catweazle
picked himself up and came closer, fascinated by the box. The man put down his
fishing rod and picked up the radio. Obviously the old tramp had never seen one
before. ‘It’s a transistor,’ he explained, and turned off the cricket
commentary.
    ‘Thy
sister?’ Catweazle was horrified.
    ‘Transistor,’
said the man loudly.
    ‘Thou
has entranced thy sister?’ said Catweazle, sitting down beside him, ‘ ’tis the
magic of the electrickery?’
    ‘Well,
you could put it like that, I suppose,’ said the man with a nervous laugh.
    ‘Thou
art a magician,’ said Catweazle knowingly.
    ‘Well
I’m blowed!’ said the man with astonishment. ‘How on earth did you recognize
me? You’re right, though. I’m Vadanti. Where did you see me work?’
    ‘Wilt
show me thy magic?’ asked Catweazle.
    Vadanti,
who could never resist any sort of audience, took a coin from his pocket, made
it vanish and then produced it from Catweazle’s beard.
    Catweazle
was delighted. ‘I too am a magician,’ he confided.
    Vadanti
looked worried and edged away slightly.
    ‘I twit
thee not,’ said Catweazle earnestly.
    ‘Well,
it does make quite a nice hobby.’
    ‘Hast
thou magic books?’
    ‘Oh
yes, but I’m afraid most of them are for professional magicians. People in the
Magic Circle.’
    ‘Ah!’
said Catweazle. ‘The magic circle!’
    ‘You’ve
heard of it?’
    ‘I work
in it,’ said Catweazle proudly. ‘Salmay. Dalmay. Adonay!’ he exclaimed and
suddenly held out Touchwood, a few inches from Vadanti’s rather long nose.
    Vadanti
looked at Catweazle. Was this old chap really a member of the Magic Circle?
Perhaps he’d fallen on hard times.
    ‘You’ve
shaken me,’ he said, ‘really you have. I’d never have thought you were... well,
one of us. Er... what name do you use?’
    ‘Catweazle.’
    Vadanti
tried to remember if he had heard the name before. ‘No,’ he said finally,
‘doesn’t ring a bell. Probably a bit before my time.’
    ‘Ay,’
said Catweazle.
    ‘Catweazle,’
repeated Vadanti. ‘I like it. It’s got a sort of early English flavour about
it.’ He looked at Cat-weazle’s ragged robe. ‘Of course! that’s why you’re
dressed up like that! What a great get-up! Have you been working today?’
    Catweazle
nodded.
    ‘Now I
get it,’ said Vadanti, laughing with relief. ‘You know, at first I thought you
were crackers.’
    ‘Nay, I
am Catweazle.’
    Vadanti
roared with laugher. ‘Oh very good! You do comedy as well then?’
    ‘What
of the fish?’ asked Catweazle, who was getting a bit lost.
    ‘They’re
just not biting today.’
    ‘Hast
thou cast a spell?’
    ‘No,
just a fly,’ joked Vadanti.
    ‘Fly?’
said Catweazle, with sudden interest.
    ‘Be
better after some rain.’
    Catweazle
put his line in the water and, shutting his eyes, recited a little spell.
     
    ‘Fish, fish, fish
    For thee I wish.
    Come do not look
    But bite my hook.’
     
    There
was a slight tug on the line.