The financially illiterate middle class may encounter chartered accountants around the dreaded season of tax returns—as the self-pitying definition goes, they are people we pay to tell us if we are broke and by how much. Auditors are higher up the angels’ hierarchy, known only to businesses. The Hollywood caricature is of a bald head crowned with a visor, shirt-sleeves rolled up, digging into dusty, oversized registers, poring over data, crunching numbers, reading complex financial gobbledygook—the things that make many shudder is routine, even exciting, for these certified practitioners of a modern black art.