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I stood up in involuntary respect when Dr Worthington entered the room.

Let us begin,' he said in a perfectly ordinary voice, and squatted down, his great toes spread and grasping the floor. He took several things out of the pouch - a dog's tail, a wrinkled black object the size of a man's fist, and other things hard to identify. He fastened the tail to his waist so that it hung down behind. Then he picked up one of the things that he had taken from the pouch - a small item, wrapped and tied in red silk - and said to me, Will you open your safe?'

I did so, and stepped back out of his way. He thrust the little bundle inside, clanged the door shut, and spun the knob. I looked inquiringly at Jedson.

He has his ... well .. . soul in that package, and has sealed it away behind cold iron. He does not know what dangers he may encounter,' Jedson whispered. See?' I looked and saw him pass his thumb carefully all around the crack that joined the safe to its door.

He returned to the middle of the floor and picked up the wrinkled black object and rubbed it affectionately. This is my mother's father,' he announced. I looked at it more closely and saw that it was a mummified human head with a few wisps of hair still clinging to the edge of the scalp! He is very wise,' he continued in a matter-of-fact voice, and I shall need his advice. Grandfather, this is your new son and his friend.' Jedson bowed, and I found myself doing so. They want our help.'

He started to converse with the head in his own tongue, listening from time to time, and then answering. Once they seemed to get into an argument, but the matter must have been settled satisfactorily, for the palaver soon quieted down. After a few minutes he ceased talking and glanced around the room. His eye lit on a bracket shelf intended for an electric fan, which was quite high off the floor.

There!' he said. That will do nicely. Grandfather needs a high place from which to watch.' He bent over and placed the little head on the bracket so that it faced out into the room.

When he returned to his place in the middle of the room he dropped to all fours and commenced to cast around with his nose like a hunting dog trying to pick up a scent. He ran back and forth, snuffling and whining, exactly like a pack leader worried by mixed trails. The tail fastened to his waist stood up tensely and quivered, as if still part of a live animal. His gait and his mannerisms mimicked those of a hound so convincingly that I blinked my eyes when he sat down suddenly and announced:

I've never seen a place more loaded with traces of magic. I can pick out Mrs Jennings's very strongly and your own business magic. But after I eliminate them the air is still crowded. You must have had everything but a rain dance and a sabbat going on around you!'

He dropped back into his character of a dog without giving us a chance to reply, and started making his casts a little wider. Presently he appeared to come to some sort of an impasse, for he settled back, looked at the head, and whined vigorously. Then he waited.

The reply must have satisfied him; he gave a sharp bark and dragged open the bottom drawer of a file cabinet, working clumsily, as if with paws instead of hands. He dug into the back of the drawer eagerly and hauled out something which he popped into his pouch.

After that he trotted very cheerfully around the place for a short time, until he had poked his nose into every odd corner. When he had finished he returned to the middle of the floor, squatted down again, and said, That takes care of everything here for the present. This place is the centre of their attack, so grandfather has agreed to stay and watch here until I can bind a cord around your place to keep witches out.'

I was a little perturbed at that. I was sure the head would scare my office girl half out of her wits if she saw it. I said so as diplomatically as possible.

How about that?' he asked the head, then turned back to me after a moment of listening. Grandfather says it's all right; he won't let anyone see him he has not been introduced to.' It turned out that he was perfectly correct; nobody noticed it, not even the scrubwoman.

Now then,' he went on, I want to check over my brother's place of business at the earliest opportunity, and I want to smell out both of your homes and insulate them against mischief. In the meantime, here is some advice for each of you to follow carefully: Don't let anything of yourself fall into the hands of strangers - nail parings, spittle, hair cuttings - guard it all. Destroy them by fire, or engulf them in running water. It will make our task much simpler. I am finished.' He got up and strode back into the cloakroom.

Ten minutes later the dignified and scholarly Dr Worthington was smoking a cigarette with us. I had to look up at his grandfather's head to convince myself that a jungle lord had actually been there.

Business was picking up at that time, and I had no more screwy accidents after Dr Worthington cleaned out the place. I could see a net profit for the quarter and was beginning to feel cheerful again. I received a letter from Ditworth, dunning me about Biddle's phony claim, but I filed it in the wastebasket without giving it a thought.

One day shortly before noon Feldstein, the magicians' agent, dropped into my place. Hi, Zack!' I said cheerfully when he walked in. How's business?'

Mr Fraser, of all questions, that you should ask me that one,' he said, shaking his head mournfully from side to side. Business - it is terrible.'

Why do you say that?' I asked. I see lots of signs of activity around-'

Appearances are deceiving,' he insisted, especially in my business. Tell me - have you heard of a concern calling themselves "Magic, Incorporated ?'

That's funny,' I told him. I just did, for the first time. This just came in the mail' - and I held up an unopened letter. It had a return address on it of Magic, Incorporated, Suite 700, Commonwealth Building'.

Feldstein took it gingerly, as if he thought it might poison him, and inspected it. That's the parties I mean,' he confirmed. The gonophs!'

Why, what's the trouble, Zack?'

They don't want that a man should make an honest living

- Mr Fraser,' he interrupted himself anxiously, you wouldn't quit doing business with an old friend who had always done right by you?'

Of course not, Zack, but what's it all about?'

Read it. Go ahead.' He shoved the letter back at me.

I opened it. The paper was a fine quality, watermarked, rag bond, and the letterhead was chaste and dignified. I glanced over the stuffed-shirt committee and was quite agreeably impressed by the calibre of men they had as officers and directors - big men, all of them, except for a couple of names among the executives that I did not recognize.

The letter itself amounted to an advertising prospectus. It was a new idea; I suppose you could call it a holding company for magicians. They offered to provide any and all kinds of magical service. The customer could dispense with shopping around; he could call this one number, state his needs, and the company would supply the service and bill him. It seemed fair enough - no more than an incorporated agency.

I glanced on down. -fully guaranteed service, backed by the entire assets of a responsible company--' -surprisingly low standard fees, made possible by elimination of fee splitting with agents and by centralized administration-' The gratifying response from the members of the great profession enables us to predict that Magic, Incorporated, will be the natural source to turn to for competent thaumaturgy in any line - probably the only source of truly first-rate magic-'