The Man Who Was Magic (15 page)

“Now, my boy,” Robert pronounced, “I imagine you’ll be wanting to prepare for tonight. The show starts promptly at nine o’clock. A dressing room has been set aside for you and you will be expected to be in the Auditorium by half past eight. But first, a word with you in private. Jane, run along and play for a little, Adam and I have a few things to discuss.”

As she left the room, Jane caught Adam’s wink and it made her feel warm, squiggly and happy inside.

When they were alone, The Great Robert said, “Have a cigar?” Adam politely refused. His host gestured with a hand and a Havana perfecto appeared in his fingers. He lit it and after drawing a few puffs said, “What I thought I’d better mention,” he began, “was a rumor running around the town which has put the wind up some people, namely that you are a real magician. Nonsense, of course. Started by this fellow Malvolio the Mighty. Mighty, nothing! He’s a twerp. But he’s a mischief-maker and has been trying to stir up trouble for me for a long time.”

“I could see that,” Adam said.

“That’s why I’m so pleased about your kind offer to show me how you do the egg trick.” In his mind Robert had already changed “Do it again” to “Show how.”

“No comment, Adam,” Mopsy warned.

Adam remained silent.

“Stupid, that fellow, talking like that and upsetting everyone,” The Great Robert continued and then with a sudden sharp, shrewd glance, “you’re not a real magician, by any chance, are you?”

“Where I come from, I’m not accounted a very good one at all,” Adam replied, causing Mopsy to murmur, “Nice going!”

“Exactly!” said The Great Robert. “Which makes Malvolio a liar. And you see, after you’ve taught me how to do the egg trick and I do it for him, it will prove he’s one and that will be the end.”

“I see,” said Adam, at the same time wondering why his kind of magic should be so disquieting among magicians far more skilled and experienced than he.

“Not to worry, then,” said The Great Robert, apparently satisfied, “first things first. What had you on your mind for tonight?”

“Actually,” Adam replied, “I hadn’t thought,” which was the truth. For his conjuring was quite spontaneous.

“You’ll want something spectacular,” advised The Great Robert. “Big and showy. Stuff like the egg is fine for close-up work, but you’ll be on stage in a theater, behind footlights, with practically the entire population of Mageia watching you. The final trials for admission to the Guild is one of our important shows of the year. It calls for something rather to fill the stage; vanishment, illusions. We’ve got the most modern machinery, you know, trap doors, elevators, flies, pulleys, electrical equipment, the lot. I have a whole collection of apparatus down in the cellar I’d be very happy to lend you; the Vanishing Lady, the Indian Rope Trick, the Living Portraits—anything you like.”

“That’s very kind,” Adam said, “but I’m afraid I wouldn’t know how to work them.”

“Well, maybe so,” agreed Robert. “You know best. But in the matter of clothes, you simply can’t go on in that rig you’re wearing. Unless you’re doing oriental stuff in the proper costume, I’m afraid full dress is obligatory. I have one upstairs that’s too small for me now and might fit you. Ha-ha!” and here he patted his stomach, “I’m not getting any younger! Would you like me to lend it to you?”

“Would you?” said Adam. “I’d be most grateful.”

“Oh brother!” said Mopsy, “I can hardly wait to see you in one of those outfits!”

“You be quiet,” Adam said, “or I’ll dress you up, too.”

“Eh?” said the Chief Magician. “Oh, of course, the dog again. Well, come along and we’ll see what we can find.”

The magician, with Mopsy and Adam following, went up to his room where delving into his wardrobe, he produced a fine-looking suit of tail coat and trousers, with white waistcoat, starched shirt, collar and white tie and a silk top hat to go with it.

“Now just let me show you how this works,” The Great Robert said and therewith proceeded to turn out the most astonishing set of inside pockets, receptacles and hidey-holes, some underneath the coat collar to receive articles no larger than a coin, rolled up handkerchief or a little ball, others descending all the way down into the bottom of the tail coat and the full length of the trousers. There were pockets in the sleeves, under the lapels, in the waistband and many other places.

“The hat is my own improvement,” The Great Robert continued. “You see, when you press this little spring here on the side, four folding compartments appear within the hat, two of them waterproof for liquids.”

“How extraordinary!” Adam marveled.

“Clever, eh?” said Robert. “You can load up with anything you want in that outfit—cards, handkerchiefs, self-lighting cigarettes, fake watches, Japanese sunshades, flower bouquets, coins, billiard balls or livestock.”

“Livestock?” queried Adam.

“Of course,” replied The Great Robert. “It was tailored especially for that. Last time I wore the coat—I was a lot younger then—I was working with white pigeons. Do you know, I could load eight birds into that suit and walk out onto a nightclub floor in the full glare of the spotlight and never show so much as a wrinkle?”

Adam was holding up the dress clothes and looking at them curiously. He said, “It’s hard to believe.”

“Would you like me to climb into one of those pockets?” Mopsy suggested.

“Oh well,” Robert said, “perhaps stuff like that is a little advanced for you. But never mind, the main thing is to look presentable. Take them, my boy, take them. I’ve arranged for you to be last on the program. Give us all a proper climax. Now then, I suppose you’ll be wanting to rehearse with Jane.”

Adam shook his head slowly and said, “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. I don’t want to tire her. I shouldn’t like her to get a headache, or anything.”

Mopsy yelped,
“Touché!”
as The Great Robert suddenly coughed guiltily and said, “Quite right, quite right. She’s a sensitive little thing and will be up late tonight. I’ll have her take a little sleep now and we’ll bring her over, all dressed and ready for you, when the time comes.” Here he stuck out a meaty hand, “And may I, at this point wish you the greatest good luck and success. We shall be proud to have you as an associate and member of our Guild.”

When they were alone again, Mopsy said, “Can I go out? That guy makes me sick.”

“No you cannot,” Adam said. “You’ve been out the whole day.”

“Oh, come on,” Mopsy begged. “I need a little cool breeze after all that hot air.”

“What’s the matter with you, Mopsy?” Adam asked. “He couldn’t have been kinder, or more generous; giving me advice, lending me his clothes.”

The small dog shook himself. “Are you kidding?” he said. “Why is he lending you that stuff? For himself! Didn’t you catch on he was trying to worm out of you what you were going to do tonight? And he’s got you nicely tied up to teach him the egg trick, which he’ll never be able to do in a million years. You know what he’s using you for? To put you in the middle between himself and that Malvolio fellow, who doesn’t mean you any good either. Do you know what I think we ought to do? Get out of here while we can.”

“Mopsy, you’re being silly,” said Adam severely. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“What about the spot where my tail begins?” said Mopsy. “It’s all prickles.”

“That will do,” Adam admonished.

Mopsy made three circles and lay down disgustedly with his face between his paws. But after a little he brushed the hair away from one eye and said, “Adam?”

“What is it now?”

“I really have to go.”

“Really and truly?”

“Really and truly. I drank a lot of water. Those “Sweetiepups” always make me thirsty. And you know how that old bag is about her carpets.”

“Oh, all right then, come on,” Adam said and took Mopsy down and let him out. “Don’t be long.”

The dog ran out into the street, turned and laughed, “Ha, ha, ha! I didn’t have to go at all! But I will, just so that I didn’t tell a lie.” He scampered up to his favorite place.

“Mopsy, come back here at once!” Adam ordered.

“I told you I needed some fresh air. Don’t worry, I’ll just have a little sniff around. Leave the door ajar for me,” and the next moment he was out of sight.

Adam sighed at his naughtiness, but when he had returned inside the house he was smiling again and was careful to leave the door open, so that Mopsy would be able to get back in.

XV

M
ALVOLIO
S
TRIKES

H
ad Mopsy known what was awaiting him as he scampered away from his master, he would not have been quite so gay, frisky and disobedient. For suddenly without warning, a blanket was thrown over him and he was picked up and carried off, kicking and screaming.

“Flelp!” he shouted, “Adam help me, I’m being kidnaped!” in the hopes that his friend had not gone back into the house yet and he would be heard.

The stifling folds of the cover muffled his cries. He was held prisoner so tightly that he could not move or hardly breathe.

He heard someone ask, “Got the little beggar?”

“First time,” came the reply.

“Good. Hurry up, Malvolio wanted him brought in as soon as we could.”

And then Mopsy understood everything. It was a snatch and upon the orders of Malvolio, Adam’s enemy.

But why and what for? Whatever, he was certain it boded no good for his master. Too late he bitterly regretted not having stood by to protect him at all times instead of, like a sulky child, getting his own way to go gadding off around the town.

There was no use struggling. He was being borne rapidly along, his heart beating a hundred to the dozen with dismay and fright. The blanket didn’t smell very good either and he was terrified that he might smother to death before he reached his destination.

Then he heard feet scraping down a flight of stone steps and one of his captors addressed what must have been a third member of the gang on guard at a door.

“We’ve caught him. Shall we bring him in?”

“No, they’re still working on Ninian in there. But I’ll tell Malvolio.”

Oh, help!
thought Mopsy,
they’ve got Ninian too.
And the phrase “working on him” had a most ominous ring.

“What do we do with this one in the meantime?”

“Dump him into the Museum, until he’s wanted.”

The next thing Mopsy knew, he was rolling over and over as the blanket was unwound and then he found himself tumbling onto the floor. The door slammed behind him so quickly it came close to nipping some of his tail feathers. Simultaneously he heard the key turn in the lock and then withdrawn.

He was captive in the Magic Museum of Mageia, which he knew was in the basement of the Town Hall. It was a cavernous affair full of exhibits, some in glass cases, of conjuring apparatus going back many hundreds of years. But this didn’t interest Mopsy at the moment. He was far more concerned with voices he heard issuing from behind another door at the far side of the place. He trotted over and by standing up on his hind legs and applying his eye to the keyhole, he was able to see and thereafter by putting one ear to the same spot, he could hear.

He found himself looking into what appeared to be a conference room, at the head of which Malvolio was presiding over a number of the magicians who had been on the Judges’ panel the morning before, along with several others he did not recognize, and fat Fussmer who was writing on a pad.

Standing at one end, trembling, lank hair and mustaches drooping and his pale face wet with perspiration, was Ninian. And to Mopsy’s horror, as the little dog now pressed his ear to the keyhole, the magician was saying: “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I’m not a real magician, honest I’m not. I’m not even a good unreal magician. I swear I had nothing to do with it. It was Adam. He’s magic.”

Oh,
thought Mopsy,
you rotten traitor! After all Adam has done for you. Oh, Ninian, how can you?

He had no way of knowing, of course, that poor Ninian was frightened out of his wits at being dragged before Malvolio and his henchmen and had been threatened with torture unless he revealed the secret of the goldfish bowl and with death if it should turn out that there was something supernatural about it.

Thus he was in a state of confusion and furthermore feeling sorry for himself. For as soon as he realized the fix he was in, the same little green monster was back again onto his shoulder, whispering, “But you didn’t
ask
him to help you, did you? It’s really his fault and not yours. He isn’t much use to you now that you’re in trouble, is he? You’d better look after your own skin.”

“Aha!” Mopsy heard Malvolio shout. “So you never did the goldfish bowl switch yourself at all, did you?”

“No, no,” Ninian cried, “I swear I didn’t! You know, sir, that I couldn’t do a trick like that on my own. He promised me I wouldn’t fail and when he came onto the floor I heard him say, ‘Try not to look too surprised.’ And then, presto! There was the goldfish bowl in my hands! And, besides, at the picnic today . . .”

Mopsy’s heart sank lower and lower as he murmured, “Oh please, Ninian, haven’t you done enough to Adam already? Don’t tell what happened today.” For Mopsy had gathered by now, from what was being said and done, that apparently practicing the type of magic that was Adam’s was considered a terrible crime in Mageia.