CHAPTER XVI
THE SMASHED WATCH
Even larger crowds than attended on the first evening, greeted Joe Strong and Professor Rosello at the two following performances. The wonder of the disappearing trick, as well as the marvels of others, had been well spread throughout Lorilard by the small boys, and by grown persons as well, and many bought tickets determined to “see how it was done.”
But the stage-hand who let Joe down through the trap in the floor kept his own counsel, and though many persons said they were sure they knew how the feat was performed and that Joe must go down through the stage, since it was obvious he did not go up in the air, still they could not understand how the piece of paper was not broken.
“Well, you certainly brought me good luck,” said the professor to Joe at the conclusion of the third night’s performance. “We took in good money. You have more than earned your salary.”
“I’m glad to know that,” answered Joe, much gratified. “Do you think I shall succeed as a magician?”
“I’m sure of it! You learn quickly, and you have natural and inherited ability. Practice will make you perfect. I will help you all I can.”
Joe had worked much more smoothly the third night than on either of the two previous ones. The “disappearance” trick had gone off well, and the professor had let Joe do one or two simple mystification acts himself.
“As we go along I will gradually let you do more and more on the stage,” said Professor Rosello, “until you get so you can sometimes take my place.”
“You are very kind,” returned Joe.
“I should think I ought to be,” the magician went on. “I owe my life to you, and it will take a good while to pay that debt.”
During the next few weeks Joe traveled about from town to town with Professor Rosello, helping him in many ways aside from on the stage. For there were many details to look after in hiring theatres, sending on posters in advance, transporting the baggage and so on.
Joe’s work was so successful, and his working of what tricks he did so smooth, that Professor Rosello let him take a certain specified part in the performances now.
“We’ll add some new tricks, too,” said the magician. “I can afford to do that now, as we are taking in a good deal of money.”
So some new apparatus was bought, and a young man, or rather an overgrown boy, hired to relieve Joe of some of the detail work. Thus Joe could devote more time to the tricks and to practice. The professor’s “show” was not a large one, and he did not play in the big cities, or, if he did, it was in the small theatres or in halls. But Joe was in good company, and he was getting valuable experience. He often wondered what was going on in Bedford, and whether his disappearance had caused any stir.
It had. The robbery at the deacon’s house became known, and also the fact of the accusation against Joe, who was being sought by the police.
“Well, Joe may have run away, because he couldn’t stand it any longer,” said Tom Simpson, when he found his suit of clothes and the note the morning after Joe had left them on the door-step. “Joe Strong may have run away, but he never stole!”
“That’s right!” agreed his other chums.
But of all this Joe knew nothing.
The young wizard, which he was rapidly becoming in earnest, kept at his chosen work. He practiced sleight-of-hand at every opportunity. Nor did he neglect his physical welfare. In many of the places he visited there were Y. M. C. A. gymnasiums, and there Joe paid a small fee for the privilege of using the trapeze or the bars. This he did during the day, while waiting for the night’s performance. He would end his exercise with a shower bath, and be in fine trim for the evening’s work. He did the disappearing trick every night of the show, and it always went well.
Joe also did considerable studying, for the professor had a number of books on magic. And one evening after a successful performance Joe approached Professor Rosello, and said:
“I think I have invented a new trick.”
“Good!” exclaimed the professor. “Let’s hear about it.”
“I say think,” Joe reminded him, “for, though I haven’t seen you do it, you may know about it.”
He then described the feat, explaining what apparatus would be necessary to have it properly worked.
“Say, that’s a good one!” cried Professor Rosello. “It’s great, Joe! And I’ll let you do it yourself, as is your right. I’ll order what you want, and you can practice it, for remember this: a new trick requires lots of practice to make it run smoothly. There’s nothing worse for a magician’s reputation than to have a slip-up when he is working a piece of magic. So practice the new trick well.”
Joe promised that he would, and when the three simple pieces of apparatus were received he devoted much time to perfecting the details of his little bit of mysticism.
The evening came on which Joe was to do his new trick. The ones the professor did were successfully worked, and while Mr. Crabb went behind the scenes to “load” himself for his next act, Joe stepped forward, and, addressing the audience, said:
“For this trick I should like to borrow a gold gentleman’s watch—I should say a gentleman’s gold watch.” The audience laughed at his pretended slip, and this is always a good beginning. There was a moment’s hesitation, and Joe added: “I will return it safely. Come now, can’t I get one gold watch from some one in this large and intelligent-looking audience? Ah, thank you, here is a trusting gentleman,” and he accepted a gold watch which a man in the front row held up. He was not a confederate. Joe had never seen him before, but he took this watch because it was an open-faced one, of just the size he wanted.
“Now before I go on with this trick,” resumed Joe, as he took his place in the center of the stage, “I will, for safe keeping, place the watch in this paper bag.” He held up what seemed to be an ordinary paper bag such as grocers use. The watch went into it, and Joe then twisted the bag up around the watch, the paper assuming a circular form the shape of the watch being plainly visible.
“I’ll just lay the watch, in the bag, on the floor here for a moment,” the young wizard went on. “It will be perfectly safe, I’m sure. I just want to ask a few questions of the owner.”
Joe then went through some “patter” improvised for the occasion, asking the man who had lent him the watch, how long he had had it, whether it kept good time, if it were valuable, and so on.
In the midst of this talk Joe walked about, and then, seemingly by accident, he stepped on the paper bag. There was an instant crunch as if of a broken crystal, and a gasp came from the audience. The man who owned the watch looked rather startled.
“Dear me! This is quite too bad!” exclaimed Joe, stooping to pick up the paper bag and the stepped-on watch. “I am very sorry, sir, but you know accidents will happen. You should have warned me that I was going to step on your watch, my dear sir.”
“I—I—you——” began the man, rather red in the face.
“Keep still!” his wife cautioned him. “It’s only a trick, you know.”
The man became silent, but wore a worried look.
“Well, let us see just how bad the damage is,” Joe went on. He took the watch from the bag and held it up. The crystal was cracked in all directions, and a slight pressure from Joe’s thumb sent it into fragments of glass.
“Oh, dear! Worse and worse!” Joe exclaimed. “Well, since I have broken this much of the watch, I might as well finish it. I’ll put it in this mortar,” and he brought forward a small wooden one, shaped as all druggists’ mortars are.
“There’s nothing in it, you see,” he went on holding it so the audience could look into the interior. “Quite empty,” and Joe rattled his wand inside. “So it can’t hurt your watch to go in there.” He shook the fragments of glass on the now smoothed-out paper bag, and carefully lowered the watch, with its back toward the audience, into the mortar.
“Now we’ll see what we can do,” Joe went on, taking up the pestle. This, as you know, is the object with which a druggist grinds up in the mortar any medicine requiring crushing.
“We’ll make a thorough job of this while we’re at it,” Joe went on, as he proceeded to grind away with the pestle on the bottom of the mortar.
“Come! This is too slow. I shall have to use something heavier, I think, to make mince-meat of this watch. It is a very tough one. I’ll use this poker,” and he picked up an iron one, laying aside the pestle on a table. With the poker Joe jabbed away at the bottom of the mortar, wherein, a few moments previous, the audience had seen him place the watch.
A rattling, grinding sound was heard, a clink of metal, and Joe exclaimed:
“Ah, now we are getting on famously! You will hardly know your watch again, my dear sir. It is all in pieces.”
The man did not seem to know whether to look amused or angry.
“There we are!” Joe exclaimed, as he held the mortar slantingly so the audience could look inside. They, as well as the gentleman who had lent the watch, saw the crushed and bent wheels, springs and pinions of a watch, all massed together.
“Well, I couldn’t do much worse to your watch. I think you’ll agree to that, my dear sir?” said Joe to the man.
“That’s right,” he admitted, rather ruefully.
“And now to try what a little magic will do,” said Joe. “Since I have destroyed your watch, I’ll do my best to restore it.”
He poured from the mortar the fragments of a watch, putting them on the paper bag together with the pieces of glass. He then wadded them all up together, and crammed them into the mouth of a large, old-fashioned pistol.
“Now watch me closely,” Joe said.
And one may well believe the audience, as well as the man who owned the watch, did watch.