would never be fulfilled.

Actuated by these motives, they set out together for the house of
consultation, but they found it shut up and abandoned; and, upon inquiry
in the neighbourhood, learned that the conjurer had moved his quarters
that very day on which the captain had recourse to his art. This was
actually the case. He knew the fate of Sir Launcelot would soon come to
light, and he did not choose to wait the consequence. He had other
motives for decamping. He had run a score at the public-house, which he
had no mind to discharge, and wanted to disengage himself from his female
associate, who knew too much of his affairs to be kept at a proper
distance. All these purposes he had answered by retreating softly,
without beat of drum, while his sibyl was abroad running down prey for
his devouring. He had not, however, taken his measures so cunningly, but
that this old hag discovered his new lodgings, and, in revenge, gave
information to the publican. This creditor took out a writ accordingly,
and the bailiff had just secured his person, as Captain Crowe and Timothy
Crabshaw chanced to pass by the door in their way homewards, through an
obscure street, near the Seven Dials.

The conjurer having no subterfuge left, but a great many particular
reasons for avoiding an explanation with the justice, like the man
between the devil and the deep sea, of two evils chose the least; and
beckoning to the captain, called him by his name. Crowe, thus addressed,
replied with a "Hilloah!" and looking towards the place from whence he
was hailed, at once recognised the necromancer. Without farther
hesitation, he sprang across the street, and, collaring Albumazar,
exclaimed, "Aha! old boy, is the wind in that corner? I thought we
should grapple one day--now will I bring you up by the head, though all
the devils in hell were blowing abaft the beam."