Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 62, No. 2, October 3, 1931

I

On a floor of a great skyscraper in New York City is a vast organization, with hundreds of employees flung to the four corners of the United States. Its ramifications extend to Canada and Europe. It’s a million-dollar business.

Presiding over it all is a high priestess whose name is known wherever people congregate. She is a great accumulator of wealth. Let us call her Portentia Smith. Miss Smith is neither young nor old, and neither modest in her fees nor in her statements. For Portentia is a soothsayer to whom all come.

“Star Gazer” is one name for her business. Reading the future through positions of the stars. Doing all the things the bearded, cone-hatted diviners of the Middle Ages did before her, yet doing them so efficiently and gracefully money flows in streams into her coffers.

Fully in keeping with the building which houses her establishment, her outer office is a model of the interior decorator’s art. It impresses even the wealthy stock brokers who patronize her. Here comes a client. The slim, beautifully gowned young lady at the reception desk glides forward. She is certainly charming.

“I am a broker,” he introduces himself. “I have some inside information on a certain stock, but I might be double crossed in a stock market as uncertain as this. Some men want me to come into a pool with them. I am anxious to go in, and also anxious to stay out. It may be that Miss Smith can help me come to a decision.”

“Certainly,” replies the reception girl with a smile that is charming. “She can do that by reading the stars, by finding out if the planets are in a favorable position for you. Simply let me have your name and address and I’ll arrange an appointment with Miss Smith.

“The fee for a single service is only one hundred dollars, for a consultation. The monthly fee is two hundred dollars, or two thousand four hundred dollars yearly, for which Miss Smith will mail you a complete monthly forecast on the first of every month.”

“Let me see how much Miss Smith tells me on this first visit and I’ll discuss the monthly arrangement later,” the broker visitor smilingly agrees.

“Very well,” the girl says as she picks up a beautiful gold appointment book and runs her blue eyes down the page. “You are lucky. It’s now about nine forty-five and I see Miss Smith has an opening at ten forty-five. If you’ll wait for her, I’ll put your name down.”

The broker agrees to wait and pays over two crisp fifty-dollar bills from a well-filled wallet. He is taken to another office, small, yet luxuriously furnished, is given a comfortable chair and some copies of financial magazines to read. The reception girl returns at the moment of ten forty-five, and ushers the broker into one of the most striking offices he has ever seen.

It is a room almost forty feet long and twenty-five feet wide, with walls magnificently paneled and hand carved. In the center is a table, massive and impressive. On one end of it is a giant globe on a huge swivel. Painted on this globe are the twelve signs of the Zodiac. Suspended over it is a disk on which are arranged planets and stars which can be moved at will.

As the broker enters the room a stately woman of uncertain age rises to greet him. He is introduced to Portentia Smith. He is frankly skeptical. He is asked the month of his birth. He gives it, and Miss Smith arranges her globe and disk. She says, with eyes that never leave his, and in words which never falter:

“According to the stars you are married to a woman named Elizabeth. She is slightly younger than you. Your children are seven and ten, the younger being a boy and the elder a girl. Their names are Harold and Betty. You own a Packard automobile.”

The broker can hardly believe his ears. Every word is true. Miss Smith says that she is now ready for any question he cares to ask, that she has given these facts about himself merely to show she possesses the power to make the stars reveal facts to her.

“Miss Smith,” he commences, “I’d heard a great deal about you, but your reputation does not even do you justice. Before we go any further, let me give you a retainer for the monthly service your assistant suggested.”

Raising her left hand on which reposes a remarkable emerald held in place by a platinum band engraved with the planets, in each of which are inserted star-shaped diamonds of richest blue white brilliance, Miss Smith smilingly rejects his offer, advising him that business matters involving money are not of interest to her and that he should see the cashier on the way out. This further impresses the visitor, who asks:

“Miss Smith, I have a chance to get in a pool by buying five thousand shares of Blank stock three points below the market. I like the stock, but frankly I am afraid of the crowd in the pool with me. I want your advice.”

The star gazer takes a piece of paper on which are drawn stars, makes astronomical designs on it, compares the signs of the Zodiac governing his birth month, and the present month, arranges the planets on the overhanging disk, does what seems to her visitor some higher mathematical problems, and then gives her decision.

“This deal is a bad one for you. The overhanging dark clouds obscure the brighter ones for you just now. The stars are not right for your immediate success, and generally I advise you to leave the deal alone.”

Miss Smith arises, signifying the interview is over.

The pool in which the broker had been invited to participate is formed without him, the European situation grows worse, the market falls and Miss Smith has a “client” who firmly believes her advice because she saved him at least $100,000.

Any one reading the true incident above might have his faith in fortune tellers strengthened or revived, but, wait!

The day prior to the visit of our lucky stock broker friend, Miss Smith had been consulted by another broker. This broker had the same story to tell. He wanted to go in the pool to buy Blank stock, but he, too, was afraid of a double cross.

After her usual rigmarole Miss Smith advised him to go into the pool. One broker had to win — one had to lose!

She would get one steadfast client out of it, no matter what happened.