The Purple Bird Mystery (23 page)

Fisty did not reply. He leaned forward to look down into the shadows below him.

“I … I thought I saw something moving down there,” he whispered.

“Something in those shadows?” Gully peered downward. “What?”

“I don’t know …”

“Only one way to find out,” Gully said, jumping down from the fence. “I don’t think …” He stopped suddenly as a low growl came from the darkness at the foot of the fence.

“It’s a dog!” Fisty dropped into the yard to join his friend. “Be careful!”

For a moment there was silence. Then, so unexpectedly that the two boys stepped back with a gasp, a small white dog emerged from the shadows—walking on its hind legs! Its front paws were extended as though it were welcoming them.

“A trick dog!” Gully exclaimed.

“But how did he get into this yard? Nobody lives here.”

Gully crouched and called the dog to him. The puppy dropped its forepaws to the ground, raised its tail and trotted to him.

“He’s a smart little pup!” Gully looked about. The rear door of the building was partly open. “That’s how he came into the yard,” he said, pointing to the door.

“Well, he’ll starve here,” Fisty said. “He must have crawled into the building from West Street, then couldn’t get out. Let’s take him back and put him into the street.”

The door swung back easily on well-oiled hinges when Fisty tried it. Followed by the dog, the two boys entered a dark room. They were in the back of the ground floor store of the building.

“Careful, it’s pretty dark in here,” Gully cautioned.

“I can see enough …” Fisty started to reply when the room suddenly grew darker. “What … what happened?” He whirled toward Gully.

But Gully was staring at the door through which they had entered.

The door was closed, blocking out the faint light from the yard.

“Did you shut the door behind us?”

“How could I?” Fisty said in a whisper. “I was in front of you!”

“Some one shut it!”

The two boys were still looking at the back door when they heard a slight movement in the room. Both turned quickly.

A faint glowing light was appearing out of the solid blackness before them. Slowly the light began to assume a shape … the shape of a shrouded figure, floating on the air.

“Gully!” Fisty said hoarsely. “Do … do you see what I see?”

“Yes!”

Slowly the ghostly figure began to move toward the two boys, floating soundlessly through the air.

G
ULLY
and Fisty stood motionless, staring at the weird figure. With a deliberate, menacing movement the ghostly form advanced toward them. Instinctively the two boys backed away, groping in the darkness until they felt the door behind them. They could retreat no further.

A faint greenish light came from the shrouded figure, casting an eerie glow all around it.

“It’s a ghost for sure!” Fisty whispered hoarsely.

“No such things as ghosts!” Gully insisted, though he felt cold chills race up and down his back. “Ghosts aren’t real!”

“No? This one is real enough for me! We … we’ve got to get out of here!”

Fisty seized the knob and began to struggle desperately to open the door. His efforts were useless; the door remained tightly shut. He turned fearfully toward the glowing ghost.

At that moment there was an unexpected interruption. With a fierce growl, the little white dog suddenly streaked out of the darkness. Barking furiously, the dog attacked the strange figure, slashing and snapping with his sharp teeth.

“Look, Fisty. The dog isn’t afraid! That proves it’s not a ghost!”

“Yeah! The little pup! He’s not scared of anything!” There was unbounded admiration in Fisty’s voice.

The dog leaped and caught the edge of the glowing shroud with his teeth. Growling, he backed away, tugging and pulling on the material.

The ghostly form stopped moving. For an instant it seemed to hang in the air. Then, abruptly, it collapsed. The sheet settled slowly to the floor and lay there in a glowing heap. The eerie light was strong enough for the boys to see a part of the room.

Amazed, the two boys stared. There had been nothing under the sheet!

“What … what was holding it up?” Fisty grasped his friend by the arm.

“I don’t know,” Gully replied. “But I mean to find out.”

He took a step toward the dog which was now sitting on the sheet and tearing it with his teeth.

But as Gully moved, he heard the sharp click of a switch. Light suddenly flooded the room. Startled, the two boys stood blinking under the glare of large unshaded electric bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

“Stop it, Banjo! Stop at once!” a commanding voice cried out.

The dog dropped the sheet and looked up, cocking his ears and turning his head in the direction of the voice. The two boys turned and saw, standing in the doorway of a side room, a fat little man.

“Shame on you, Banjo!” the man scolded, shaking a pudgy finger at the dog. “How many times have I told you to leave my ghosts alone, eh? Speak up!”

The dog’s tail drooped. He lay down and rested his chin on the floor, a sad look coming over his eyes. Then, with a quick movement, he placed his paws over his head, covering his eyes.

Banjo could not have expressed his regret more plainly if he had spoken. Gully and Fisty were speechless as they stared at the strange scene.

Ignoring the two boys, the fat little man approached his dog. A smile of pride and triumph came over his round, cherry-red face.

“I forgive you this time, Banjo! But don’t ever do it again!”

Barking happily, Banjo leaped up and did a nimble little dance. Then he sat down and, cocking his head sideways, looked affectionately at his master.

The man turned his plump body toward the two boys and fixed on them a pair of merry eyes.

“And now, you boys! Why did you come into my house? To frighten my ghost?”

“No, sir,” Gully replied. “It’s the other way. I mean, your ghost frightened us.”

“He did?” The man looked very pleased. “Scared you, eh? Just like in the old days when I was a famous magician. My ghost would fly across the dark stage—” the man suddenly waved his hands and cried, “Whoosh!”

Gully and Fisty stepped back in surprise.

The little magician laughed, delighted at the effect he had on the two boys.

“Thousands of people in the theater audience would gasp and scream! In those days, long ago, I was Magnus Merlin, the greatest of magicians.” He shook his head sadly and sighed. “Today I’m forgotten …”

There was a musty, old-fashioned look about the magician. Round as a ball, he stood little more than five feet in height, with a mop of white hair on his head and a jolly, ruddy face.

He wore old-fashioned clothes, from the string-tie and high stiff color to the narrow, pointed shoes and gray spats. His jacket was unbuttoned and across the checkered vest hung a thick gold watch-chain.

The magician waited, his eyes twinkling, while Gully and Fisty carefully looked him over. Then he smiled, and pointed to a thin black wire strung across the room.

“That’s the secret of my ghost. A sheet covered with luminous paint, pulled along this wire.”

“It was good enough to scare me,” Fisty said, shaking his head at the simplicity of the trick.

“Well, now, boys. You know who I am. Who are you? And what were you doing in my house?”

“I’m Fisty Jones and this is Gully Queen.”

“Glad to meet you,” the magician interrupted. “But answer my question …”

“We were climbing over the back fence, sir,” Gully said. “And saw your dog—”

“Banjo,” said Magnus Merlin. At the sound of his name, Banjo barked.

“Yes, sir. We saw Banjo and thought he was trapped in the yard …”

“Banjo can take care of himself. What were you boys doing in my yard?”

“Well, sir. We didn’t know anyone lived in these houses,” Gully replied.

Fisty nodded. “We wanted to get over into the next yard,” he explained.

“Oh, dear!” Merlin looked frightened. “Into the next yard? In back of that man Sandro’s building?”

“Yes, sir. Do you know him?”

“Do I know him? My goodness! Yes, I’ve met him! He’s a terrible man! He wants me to sell him my lease on this building and move away! But I won’t do it! Never!”

Gully asked, “Why does he want this building?”

The magician shook his head. “I don’t know. But I won’t move out. I need this house for myself. It’s quiet and—” he stopped and sighed. “At least, it used to be quiet.”

“It isn’t any more, sir?” asked Gully.

The little magician looked grim. “No.”

“What’s been happening?”

“Happening?” The magician leaned toward the boy, lowering his voice. He looked anxiously about and then beckoned to Gully and Fisty to follow him. He led the way to a room at the front of the store. The room was bare except for a couple of rickety chairs and an up-ended barrel. Merlin perched on the barrel while Gully and Fisty pulled up chairs.

“Queer things have been going on, that’s what’s been happening,” Merlin continued in a low voice. “Strange noises, like chains rattling and hammers hammering have been coming from there!”

The fat little magician pointed to the wall between his building and Sandro’s.

“You’re not the only one who’s been hearing strange noises, Mr. Merlin,” Fisty said, his eyes fixed on the magician. “My friends who live on a barge down at Pier A … they’ve been hearing queer noises too.”

“Have they tried to find out where the noises came from?” asked Mr. Merlin anxiously, a worried look crossing his face.

“No.”

“That’s good! Warn them. Tell them to forget the whole thing.”

“Why shouldn’t they try to find out about the noises?” Gully asked.

“Because I
did
try,” the magician said, feeling the top of his head gingerly. “And oh, my! Was I sorry.”

“What happened, Mr. Merlin?”

“What happened? I climbed the fence into the yard next to mine. The back door of the Sandro building was open. I looked in to see what was making all that noise …”

“What did you see, sir?” Gully asked.

“Stars, my boy! Millions of them!”

“Stars?” Fisty looked puzzled.

“Someone hit me on the head!” The magician touched his head with his fingers and winced in pain. “Next thing I knew, I was sitting propped up against the fence in my own back yard.”

“Did this man Sandro hit you?”

“I don’t know, Gully. I didn’t see anyone,” Merlin replied, shaking his head. “But Sandro came to me the next day and warned me to stay away or he’d have me arrested for breaking in. That’s what he’ll do to you, if he catches you.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll stay out of there,” Fisty promised.

“Sandro also offered to take over my building. But I searched a long time for a place like this. I’m not going to give it up now.”

Fisty looked around the almost bare room. “What’s so special about this building?”

“It’s a perfect place for my workshop. Since I’ve left the stage, I’ve been inventing new magic tricks for other magicians. I make a very good profit at it.”

The little man jumped down from the barrel, clasped his hands behind his back, and, staring at the floor, began to pace before the two boys.

“I found this building two weeks ago and leased it at once. I’ve had my power tools and machines stored in a warehouse for a long time. Now I’m having them brought here. I’m ready to go to work. Why should I let Sandro frighten me away? No! I’ll stay no matter what he tries to do!”

“Has he threatened you?”

Merlin scratched the tip of his nose thoughtfully. “Well, yes and no. Yes, because he said something terrible will happen if I don’t give him my place. No, because he didn’t say it straight out so that I could go to the police and make a complaint.”

“Have you seen a man with some strange tattoos on his hands?” asked Gully.

“Oh, that one?” Merlin scowled. “He works for Sandro. A very dangerous sort of man, too! I can tell! He’s always twisting those terrible hands of his as though he’d like nothing better than to break my neck!”

Mr. Merlin seemed to shudder at the thought of the tattooed man. Then, unexpectedly, he brightened. The merry twinkle returned to his eyes as he chuckled and clapped his hands.

“How about some ice cream, boys? Eh? I hate it myself. But every once in a while, I punish myself by making me eat a plateful of the awful stuff! Especially chocolate flavor.”

The magician slapped his stomach, laughing jovially.

“Not this time, Mr. Merlin,” Gully said while Fisty stared at him in mute disappointment. “It’s late, and I’ve got to go home. But we’d like to visit you again, sir.”

“Any time, boys, any time!” Mr. Merlin took his gold watch from a vest pocket, glanced at it and shook his head. “Goodness! It
is
late, past six o’clock.”

He unhooked the watch from the heavy chain, held it up for an instant, then suddenly tossed it up into the air.

“My, how time flies,” he said.

With a startled cry, Gully leaped to catch it. “It’ll break!”

But the watch vanished into the air and Gully stood blinking up at the ceiling, his mouth open in amazement.

“What happened?” he asked, bewildered.

“Come and see me again and I’ll show you more tricks,” Mr. Merlin laughed.

He walked with the boys to the street door.

“We’re friends now. Come and visit with me,” the little magician said as he opened the door.

With a startled cry, Mr. Merlin fell back.

“Sandro!” he cried in a frightened voice.

A man stood in the doorway, his arm raised to strike.

And behind him loomed the hulking figure of the tattooed man.

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