The Mystery of the Merry Magician (11 page)

“Sure. That’s what this is,” Fisty said, loudly. “Television on a big screen.”

They found seats far down the aisle, close to the stage. The film ended soon after they had settled down. The theater was half empty. The air was hot and stale.

With the ending of the film, a curtain came down and for a few moments the place was in complete darkness. Then a greenish, eerie spotlight came on and they saw a figure shrouded in a black cape standing in the center of the stage.

Utter silence filled the place. There was an air of expectancy that gradually began to build up tension. The man remained still for a long time. Suddenly he dropped the cape and a gasp went through the audience as they saw Thundero’s face.

Theatrical make-up, cleverly applied to his bony face, gave him the appearance of a death’s head.

“It’s him,” Fisty whispered in awe.

Swiftly and silently, Thundero’s hands came to life, and for almost ten minutes he held the audience spellbound with a series of tricks. Things seemed to appear and disappear in his hands.

Fascinated, Gully watched as limp silk kerchiefs came out of the magician’s fingers. They piled up in a little mound at his feet as he let them float down one by one. Then, suddenly, he yanked on the last one. But now they were tied end to end. The kerchiefs leaped upward in a long snaky movement, writhed out over the audience, then fell back into his hands—and vanished instantly.

Enthusiastic applause swept over the theater. Thundero stepped to the edge of the stage and stared into the audience. The curtains opened behind him, revealing a coffinlike box with a pretty young lady standing beside it.

“I ask for a courageous volunteer from the audience,” Thundero said. “Is there one willing to risk his life?”

Gully impulsively leaped to his feet.

“Yes, sir!” he called. He sidled into the aisle before Fisty could stop him and strode toward the stairs at the side of the stage.

Thundero, his arms folded across his chest, stared at Gully. As the boy approached, Thundero pointed to the box.

“There!”

“Yes, sir.”

The young lady assisted Gully into the box. She then closed it, and left the stage.

“The disappearing act,” Thundero announced. “But one I guarantee you’ve never seen performed on the stage. I challenge death itself! The greatest gamble of all!” Then Thundero leaned toward the audience. “But I gamble with the boy’s life, not mine.”

The audience burst into laughter as the young lady returned carrying several long swords in her hands.

Thundero took one of the swords, held it for a moment over his head, then plunged it through the center of the box.

A great shriek shattered the silence in the theater.

Fisty, his face suddenly white with fear, leaped to his feet.

“That was Gully’s voice!” he cried.

P
EGGY
tried to stop Fisty as he stumbled into the aisle. “It was someone in back of the stage,” she hissed.

“Stop! Let him out of that box!” Shouting, Fisty rushed toward the stage.

A sudden, frightened hush came over the audience. From the rear of the theater two burly ushers charged after the boy. They seized him as he tried to climb up to the stage.

“Lemme go!” Fisty cried furiously as the two men dragged him away.

Thundero glared at the boy struggling with the ushers. Then with a sweep of his cape, he selected another sword and stabbed it through the box. Again and again he did this until the box looked like a pincushion, with swords sticking out of it from all directions.

Meanwhile the ushers brought Fisty back to his seat.

“What’s the matter with you, kid? It’s only an act.”

“You don’t get it!” Fisty raged. “That man is trying to kill my friend. …”

“Yeah? Look, one more word and we’ll toss you out of here. Now behave and watch the show.”

“Please, Fisty. Wait.” Peggy held his arm, pulling him down into the seat beside her.

Glowering, Fisty sat back and watched. On the stage, Thundero was taking the swords out, handing them back to the girl assistant one by one. When he was finished, he stood the box up on its end. Then, with a flourish, he opened it.

The box was empty. Gully had disappeared.

Peggy and Fisty gasped. The audience began to applaud.

“What happened to Gully?” Peggy asked in a low, frightened voice.

Thundero stepped forward and bowed, a grin on his skull-like face.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I often lose some of my audience this way,” he said, gesturing toward the empty box. “But it’s better to lose them after they pay their admission, than never to have an audience at all.”

Laughter and applause swept over the theater. Fisty was on his feet again as Thundero began to back off the stage.

“Where’s my friend?” he shouted. “What did you do with him?”

Thundero raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

“These things happen,” he said. “I warned him there was danger.”

“All right, the act’s over,” Fisty cried, waving his fist. “Where’s my pal?”

“Gone! Disappeared!” Thundero replied, grinning. “As you are going to disappear now. And as I am!”

He stepped back and the curtains dropped to hide him from sight. The audience laughed and applauded.

Desperately Fisty turned to the people around him.

“We’re not part of the act! This is for real!”

The two ushers appeared and grabbed him by the arms.

“We warned you against making a disturbance. Out you go.”

“Let go or I’ll slam you!”

“Now, now … come along quietly …”

But Fisty twisted unexpectedly and slipped out of the ushers’ hands like an eel. The uniformed doorman came running down the aisle to help the two ushers. From the stage, a workman in overalls hurried to join the struggle. In a moment, Fisty was surrounded.

And then Peggy joined in, her eyes flashing with fury, her hands swinging wildly.

The men were momentarily startled.

The audience, thinking all this was part of Thundero’s act, applauded enthusiastically. Some stood on their seats in order to have a better view.

“Peggy, call the cops!” Fisty ducked and tried to run toward the stage.

“Attaboy!” someone from the audience shouted.

A shriek tore through the theater as someone leaning too far over almost fell from the balcony.

“What an act!” Cheers swept through the place.

Fisty stumbled and fell against the stagehand, knocking him off his feet. The man flayed frantically with his hands as he lost his balance, grabbed an usher and brought him down. Peggy tripped and someone fell over her.

In an instant, a tangled mass of arms and legs and frantic faces rolled down the theater aisle.

And at that moment Gully came trotting toward them.

“Peggy! Fisty! Stop it!”

At sight of him, the audience burst into loud applause.

“Gully!” Fisty rose, untangling himself from the arms and legs around him. He stared at Gully. “You … you’re all right?”

“Of course I am.” Gully helped Peggy to her feet. “Come with me.”

The ushers remained sprawled out on the floor, too amazed to move. Peggy and Fisty followed Gully up the aisle to the rear of the theater while the audience cheered them.

In the lobby, Gully motioned to a side door. “This way.”

They went along a narrow, dimly lighted passageway and emerged after a few minutes behind the stage. There were several dressing rooms at the end of the passage and Gully stepped to one of these and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” said a voice from within.

Gully opened the door and they entered.

Sitting on a chair before a dressing table was Thundero, his gaunt face expressionless, his piercing black eyes fixed on the visitors. Beside him sat the young lady, his stage assistant.

“Well,” the grim magician said. “Is the riot over?”

Gully smiled. “I guess it was exciting, at that.”

“What is this, anyway?” Fisty asked, glancing warily at the magician.

“Sit down,” Gully said, motioning to an old couch. When Peggy and Fisty did so, he turned to Thundero. “Would you tell my friends what you told me?”

“But what happened to you?” Peggy asked. “How did you get out of that box on the stage?”

“While the audience was watching me sticking the swords into the box,” Thundero explained, “the bottom opened and your friend slipped out.”

“I yelled when I fell out of the box,” Gully chuckled. “And the next thing I knew, someone pushed me under the curtains and told me to be quiet.”

“One of my assistants,” Thundero nodded.

“I remember,” Peggy said. “The spotlight was on you, Mr. Thundero. The rest of the stage was dark.”

“Well, it was funny, come to think of it,” Fisty grinned, scratching his curly head. “But I sure was worried about you out there …”

“What about the reason why we came here in the first place, Gully?” Peggy asked, glancing uneasily at the magician.

“I had started to answer your friend’s questions,” Thundero said, “when we heard the commotion in the theater. Gully thought my explanation could wait until you were rescued.”

“Okay, now make with the explanations.” Fisty turned a grim face on the magician.

“Magnus Merlin is an old friend of mine, one of the greatest magicians who ever appeared on the stage.”

“Yeah, but what was it you paid him to do?” Fisty asked, staring suspiciously.

“Nothing to do with that attack on the night watchman, as I told Gully before,” Thundero explained. “I wanted Magnus to make a special magic trick for me. I paid him well for it and he did an excellent job.”

“I meant to ask you about the
Brotherhood
,” Gully said. “I overheard …”

“The
Brotherhood
?” Thundero shook his head. “It wouldn’t do for the Brotherhood of Master Magicians to find out that I needed help to make a magic trick. My reputation would suffer …”

“Why were you watching Mr. Merlin’s place?” Fisty asked.

“I was trying to make up my mind about asking him for help,” Thundero told him. “But Magnus is a fine and honorable old gentleman. I trusted him and he did help me.”

“Well, thank you for setting us straight,” Gully said, standing up.

“I’ve answered your questions,” Thundero said. “Now answer mine. What is this all about? Why are you so curious about old Magnus Merlin?”

“We … we were worried about him,” Gully said. “There were some strange things happening on the waterfront …”

“Like the attack on the watchman?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you suspected me? And Magnus?”

Gully nodded silently.

“Magnus wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Thundero said. For the first time, his stiff, frightening face broke into a grin. “You can trust Magnus. And as for me, today is my last day here. We’re moving to Chicago for a two week engagement.”

“We’ll be going now, sir.”

“Give my regards to Magnus Merlin.” The tall magician rose and stepping to the door, opened it for the youngsters. “Good bye.”

Outside, Fisty shoved his sailor hat down over his forehead and mumbled, “What a bunch of fools we were, suspecting Mr. Merlin.”

“And Thundero, too,” Peggy added.

“Where does this leave us?” Gully asked. “Sandro is our only suspect now.”

He said nothing more on the subway trip downtown, but slouched back in his seat and buried his nose in his notebook. If he gained any new ideas from studying the facts recorded on the pages, he did not inform his two friends.

They reached their station and, leaving the subway, cut across the dark and deserted waterfront streets toward West Street. The lights cast only a dim, ghostly glow around the lamp posts.

A heavy fog was creeping in from the river. Eerie, distant fog horns sounded far in the distance.

“The S.S.
Fiji Islander
will be late on account of the fog,” Peggy said as they crossed over to the pier side of West Street.

Around Pier B there was an air of expectancy. Lights were glowing in the cavernous warehouse. The gate was open and a number of longshoremen were standing near it, smoking quietly.

Just inside the dock, two customs inspectors were watching a truck unload wooden crates.

Gully stopped and looked inside. Far to one side, cargo was piled up, waiting for the ship to arrive.

“I wonder if we can sort of walk in and look around,” Gully asked in a low voice.

“What for?” Fisty asked.

“I wonder who the new night watchman is,” Peggy said. “It might be a good idea to get to know him.”

“Best way is to just walk in and see if anyone stops us,” Fisty said. Then, giving his trousers a quick hitch, he stepped through the gate.

The next moment a burly man came out of the shadows.

“Get outta here!”

“Huh?” Fisty glanced up, a look of innocence on his face.

The man moved at Fisty menacingly. His hand shot out and grabbed the boy’s shoulder.

“I’m the watchman here …” He suddenly stopped and stared at Fisty in surprise. Then, roughly shaking the boy, he growled in a low voice, “You again. What are you snooping around here for?”

“We wanted to see the ship dock.” Gully moved close to Fisty’s side. “The other watchman let us come …”

His voice ended in a gasp of amazement as he saw the hand on Fisty’s shoulder. Then he glanced up, wide-eyed.

He found himself staring into the face of Sandro’s man, the one with the weird red tattoos on his hands.

“I warned you before,” the man said angrily. He looked about him quickly. The two customs inspectors were watching them curiously. The man gave Fisty a hard push. The boy staggered back.

“Get out of here and stay away!”

“Nobody pushes me around!” Fisty recovered his balance and turned with fire flashing from his eyes.

Gully grabbed his arm quickly and pulled him away. With Peggy moving ahead of them, they left the dock and walked toward Pier A.

“What’s the idea, Gully? That mug isn’t going to push me around!”

“Shut up!” Gully snapped at his friend. “Don’t you see? That’s the reason why Mr. Ryan was attacked.”

“What?”

“So Sandro’s man could take over his job.”