The Man Who Was Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

else.”
    “Well,” said Fussmer, “we’ll let that go until later. Your father will have to decide.” For even though The Great Robert did not appear to think too highly of her, it would not do to be too gratuitously offensive to one of the family as long as he was in power. And here Fussmer made a mental note that he also must not neglect sucking up to Malvolio the Mighty, who he was aware was beginning to make considerable headway against the Chief Magician. He now addressed himself to Adam.
    “And speaking of what you do, what is your speciality: cards, ropes, cup and ball, coins, bills, silks, billiard ball, vanishing eggs, cigarettes, Chinese rings, mental magic, Black Art, sawing a woman in half . . . ?”
    As the list was rattled off, Adam listened politely and finally replied, “I’m afraid not any of those.”
    “Then what do you do? Tricks with string?” Fussmer inquired nastily.
    “Just magic,” said Adam.
    “He gave me the most beautiful rose,” put in Jane.
    “Huh! That one!” scoffed Fussmer. “That’s for babies.”
    “But it was real,” Jane insisted.
    “Real, indeed!” said Fussmer. “There’s no such thing in Mageia.”
    “Just one, teensy-weensy, little nip?” begged Mopsy. “Not hard enough to break the skin, but only . . .”
    “No!” said Adam firmly.
    “What about equipment?” Fussmer continued. “Proper costume, props, servantes, double-bottomed boxes, false-bottomed tables, loaders, marked cards, heavy dice, cabinets with mirrors, shoulder hangers, sleeve pulls, prepared cigars and cigarettes, pochettes, vanishers, trick pistols, clips, hooks and quick changes?”
    “I’m afraid I haven’t anything at all like that,” Adam confessed.
    The Town Clerk was now looking utterly incredulous. “And you claim to be a magician? Any confederates?”
    “Confederates? I don’t understand what you mean.”
    “My goodness,” Fussmer exclaimed testily. “What do you know? Helpers, of course, stooges incognito in the audience or in the wings, who assist you with escapes. Or when you ask for committees to come up onto the stage, see to it that the smart alecks don’t interfere with your gimmicks.”
    “Of course not,” said Adam. “That would be cheating.”
    The Town Clerk gave a high-pitched whinny through his nose. “Ha-ha-ha! Cheating! And what do you think magic is, my friend? It’s all cheating of one sort or another, isn’t it?”
    “Well, mine isn’t,” Adam replied. “At least, I don’t think so. It’s honest magic.”
    Fussmer laughed and said, “That’ll be the day! Ha-ha! I’ll write that down.” Thereafter he picked up the sheet, scanned it and sneered, “Well, my fine fellow, do you know what all this adds up to? It means out!” and he spelled it, “o-u-t: out!”
    “Oh, please!” cried Jane and moved a little closer to Adam.
    Mopsy said nothing at that moment. He just growled. But filtered through all the hair it didn’t sound like very much.
    “Please, nothing!” said Fussmer the Fabulous. “You actually haven’t satisfied a single one of our requirements. You haven’t got a name, or an age; you lied about where you came from; your assistant is too young; you don’t know any of the routines I’ve mentioned; you have no props, or equipment; no clothes—you look like a scarecrow to begin with—and, in fact, I’d say that you were nothing but a faker.”
    “That’s done it,” said Mopsy. “Now I am going to have a piece out of him.”
    Adam, however, was able to get his foot in front of him just in time, as he ordered, “Wait!”
    “But I’ll tell you what I’ll do, just to prove my judgment,” continued Fussmer, sitting up, preening himself a little, arranging his cuffs and giving the toupee on his head a little pat. “If you can show me one, single trick that a two-year-old baby couldn’t guess, right here and now, I’ll stamp this paper ‘passed’ and send you along into the trials. Now, what do you think of that