The Mystery of the Merry Magician (7 page)

“Yesterday he was a frightened little man.” Gully shook his head, puzzled. “I can’t understand. The moment he heard he was being watched by a tall, thin stranger … he ran into his house and locked his door.”

The traffic lights changed and the stream of trucks came to a halt. But Mr. Merlin did not emerge on the other side of the highway. Gully became uneasy. It was as though the shadows had swallowed the magician.

“I’m going to see what happened to him.”

“I’ll come with you.”

The traffic light was still with them as Gully and Peggy reached the end of the pier, and they hurried across to the safety area under the highway. A moment after they had stepped into the shadows, Gully caught sight of the rotund figure of the magician.

Beside him stood a tall, gaunt man and Gully gasped as he recognized the mysterious watcher of the day before. But Mr. Merlin, whose head reached only to the man’s elbow, was not frightened. He was talking and gesturing with his hands in a friendly way.

Banjo was standing on his hind legs, pawing the stranger and wagging his tail as though he had recognized an old friend.

Motioning to Peggy to remain quiet, Gully moved closer to the two men. Intent on their own conversation, they did not notice him.

“Magnus, you must do it!” the tall, gaunt man insisted.

“All right! All right! I’ll do it tonight. Leave it to me!”

There was a break in the traffic and the two men hurried across the street. At the door of Merlin’s house, they shook hands. The tall man turned and walked to the corner. Merlin went into his house and closed the door.

Silently, Gully and Peggy returned to the barge.

I
T WAS
late afternoon, and hot, when Fisty came aboard the barge. He dropped wearily into a deck chair beside Gully and mopped his face with his crumpled sailor hat, then stuck it jauntily over one eye.

“Had to do the shopping for Mom,” he said. “That’s why I’m late. Also, Mom wants me home tonight. How’d you make out? Can you sleep here again?”

“Yes. Grandpa said it was all right. From the looks of it,” Gully finished gloomily, “I’ll need a few days.”

“For what?”

“To get enough facts for Uncle Ellery to make sense out of this case. The more I learn, the more puzzling everything becomes.”

“You’ve got enough facts. What you need is a couple of answers,” Fisty grunted, settling comfortably back in the chair. “Where’s Peggy?”

“Below in the galley, fixing supper.”

“What’s she cooking?”

“Stew.”

“Ummmm … I love stew. Wish I could stay.”

Gully stretched out his legs along the deck and pulled out his notebook. Fisty watched him out of one eye.

“Any new facts this morning?”

“Some,” Gully replied. He read out the new items.

Fisty pushed his hat over his eyes and gave a low whistle.

“Mr. Merlin knows that man, huh?”

“Banjo acted like an old friend,” Gully mumbled. “What I keep thinking about is the promise. What is Mr. Merlin going to do tonight?”

Fisty grinned. “
I
keep thinking about ice cream. It’s hot today. And Mr. Merlin promised—”

“We’ll go as soon as Peggy’s finished below.”

They did not have long to wait. Peggy let the pots simmer over a low flame and joined the boys.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“I’ve been ready for that ice cream since yesterday,” Fisty said.

The sun was hot overhead as the trio left the open pier and crossed West Street. Mr. Merlin’s door was locked, but seconds after Gully knocked, they heard a heavy bolt slide back.

Beaming, the little magician threw open the door.

“Enter, my friends!” he cried, making a slight bow. “The stage is set for you.”

Mr. Merlin had been working hard for there were changes in the store. A wooden counter, still unpainted, stood along one side of the room. Behind the counter were wooden shelves, rising to the ceiling. At the far end of the room, hiding the door to the rear, stood a small, curtained stage.

“You made all this yourself?” Fisty asked, looking about him.

“No,” the magician replied. “It came from the warehouse in sections and I just put it together. I’m a pretty good carpenter.”

Banjo trotted in from the back room, barked and wagged his tail at the visitors, then sniffed around them.

“A flower for the young lady, Banjo.” The pudgy magician bowed, sweeping his hand in a graceful gesture toward Peggy. Then he pointed to the girl. “That’s Peggy, Banjo. Peggy.”

The little dog stood on his hind legs and barked.

“No flower?” Mr. Merlin asked in mock surprise. “I’ll take care of it at once.”

He reached up and plucked at the air. A large red rose suddenly appeared in his hand. He gave the flower to the dog.

“Take it to Peggy,” the magician commanded.

Holding the rose by its long stem, Banjo approached Peggy.

“You’re very sweet, Banjo. Thank you.” Peggy took the flower from the dog’s mouth and patted him.

“I used to do wonders with animals,” Mr. Merlin said as he guided his visitors to the rear room. “I even had a magic trick with a lion and a lamb.”

“A lion and a lamb?” Peggy asked, surprised.

“The lion did the magic trick,” Merlin said. “A very fine magician he was, too.”

“What did he do?” asked Gully.

“Made the lamb disappear.”

“That must have been some act,” Fisty said, seriously.

“Yes, but I had to give it up.”

“What for?” Fisty asked.

“I couldn’t afford to keep on buying new lambs,” Mr. Merlin replied, chuckling.

For a moment, Fisty looked puzzled as Peggy and Gully burst into laughter. Then he joined in.

“Well, come and sit down,” Mr. Merlin said, motioning toward a table set in the middle of the room. His smile was warm and friendly, though a mischievous glint was in his eyes. “I’ll have everything before you in a wink.”

There were chairs for everyone, including Banjo, who leaped to his place with a quick, light bark. Mr. Merlin brought out a tablecloth, unfolded it and threw it over the table.

The next instant he yanked it away! The movement was so swift, it startled the three youngsters.

But the sight that met their eyes was even more astonishing!

The table was set! Plates of ice cream stood before each of them. Glasses filled with milk! Napkins, spoons! Even a large bowl full of all kinds of colored cookies.

“There! How’s that for a party?” Mr. Merlin asked proudly.

“Oh, wonderful!” Peggy clapped her hands.

“Wow!” Fisty cried.

Gully smiled. “You said no tricks, but in this case …”

“Oh, dear!” Mr. Merlin interrupted. “I forgot! Couldn’t resist, really. But, I can make it all disappear again.”

He shook out the tablecloth, ready to throw it over the table.

“No!” Fisty shouted. “That’s all right! We don’t mind tricks like this!”

“Well, then,” Mr. Merlin said, sitting down in his chair. “Let’s get busy. The hot weather is also a magician. It can make the ice cream vanish.”

A saucer of ice cream was placed before Banjo.

“Mustn’t forget him, eh?” Mr. Merlin chuckled.

The little dog stood up in his chair, placed his paws on the edge of the table and began to lick the ice cream noisily.

“Eat slowly and mind your manners, Banjo,” the magician admonished the dog.

Banjo looked up at his master, barked once, then stuck his nose back into the dish.

“Well? Don’t just sit there. Eat!” Merlin said, beaming at his young guests. “Friend of mine once asked me to join him in a dish of ice cream. Of course, I refused.”

Fisty glanced up from his plate. “You did? Why?”

“There wasn’t enough room in the dish for both of us.”

They all howled, Banjo loudest of all.

Mr. Merlin was never still, not for a moment. They laughed at his stories. They stared fascinated as he made a second helping of ice cream suddenly appear in Fisty’s plate.

Before they quite realized it, the ice cream was finished and the cookie bowl empty.

Mr. Merlin waved his hand at the bowl. “Have some more cookies,” he invited them pleasantly.

“It’s empty,” Fisty said.

“Empty? Nonsense!”

The magician reached into the bowl and brought out a handful of cookies. He gave these to Fisty and again reached into the bowl.

“But there’s nothing in the bowl,” Fisty insisted.

“No?” Merlin brought more cookies out. He shared these between Peggy and Gully. “That’s to keep you munching on the way out,” he said.

Peggy gasped. “I’ve forgotten about supper! How long have we been here?”

“A couple of hours, I guess,” Gully told her.

“If the meal is burned,” Mr. Merlin suggested with a twinkle in his eyes, “I’ll try my magic on the pots.”

“Thanks, Mr. Merlin. But magic can’t help me this time.” Peggy jumped to her feet. “I’m sorry I can’t stay to help with the dishes …”

“No need, Peggy.” The magician with a sweep of his hand, suddenly cleared the table, dumping the dishes into a basket which he produced from beneath the table. “See?”

He held up the basket for them to look into. It was empty.

Before they could even express their astonishment, he herded the trio toward the street door.

“You’ll come again?”

“And you must visit us. We’re neighbors,” Peggy said.

“Thank you,” Mr. Merlin replied, a touch of sadness in his voice.

Outside, Fisty rubbed his stomach and grinned. “I don’t know when I had so much ice cream. Hope it hasn’t spoiled my appetite.”

“I’ve seen you eat,” Peggy laughed. “Nothing can spoil
your
appetite.”

“See you later,” Fisty said, ignoring her remark. “Gotta get going.”

Fisty headed for home and Gully and Peggy crossed West Street. Captain Foster had the table set out for supper when they arrived.

“Stew is fine,” the old man said, seeing the question in Peggy’s eyes. “I turned the flame down and we’re ready to eat. Where were you so late?”

Peggy described the visit to Mr. Merlin while they ate supper. Afterward, with the dishes cleared away, they sat on the deck and watched night come over the Hudson River.

Fisty joined them about nine o’clock, just as Captain Foster was making up his mind about going to bed.

“You youngsters stay up too late,” he grumbled. “For me, it’s bed time.”

“Gosh, grandpa,” Peggy said. “It’s our summer vacation. No school tomorrow.”

“Yes, but I’ve got to go to work in the morning,” Fisty announced. “I should be going to sleep, too.”

But he stayed on after Captain Foster had gone below. They talked a bit, but most of the time they just sat quietly and watched the stars come out. It was a warm, lazy evening.

Reluctantly, Fisty finally roused himself. “Well, I got to get home. Mom doesn’t want me to sleep out too often.”

“Will you be over tomorrow?” Gully asked.

“After work, sure.”

Gully and Peggy listened to Fisty’s footsteps on the wooden planking of the pier. When they could no longer hear them, Gully glanced at Peggy.

“Maybe it’s time for us to go to sleep, too. I wonder if we’re going to hear the noises tonight?”

Peggy was about to reply when a scream shrilled through the air, shattering the silence of the night. It was a cry of sheer terror.

“What was that?” Gully jumped to his feet.

The night was still again. Gully peered about in the darkness.

“It came from the next pier!”

A splash sounded, faint across the water between the two piers.

On the dock behind them came the pounding of running feet. A moment later Fisty jumped to the barge. He stopped and stared at Gully and Peggy, wide-eyed, frightened.

“I thought it was you!” he whispered.

They turned and looked out over the water. Faint splashing sounds came from the distance. Suddenly, in the moonlight, they saw a white hand appear in the water. A moment later, they had a glimpse of a frightened face. Then it vanished beneath the surface.

“The monster!” Fisty cried.

“No! No!” Peggy cried. “It’s a man!”

Gully kicked his shoes off and then whipped the leather-bound notebook from his hip pocket, tossing it quickly to Fisty. For a moment he poised on the edge of the barge. Fisty tried to stop him.

“Don’t do it, Gully! You don’t know what’s in the water!”

Gully dived. His body shot through the air like an arrow in curved flight.

An instant later he hit the water with barely a splash.

G
ULLY
acted on an impulse—and instinct. A crack swimmer, he leaped to the rescue without a second thought.

The sudden shock of water sweeping upward as he plunged in checked his zeal. He twisted his body, curving up to the surface. His head broke through into the night air. He took a deep breath then threw back his head in one swift motion to get the water out of his eyes.

Coolly he looked about him. The moonlight was bright on the wavelets that lapped at his face.

From the barge came Fisty’s hoarse voice.

“He’s coming to the surface, Gully. Over there! To your right!”

A hand broke through the water, then a face. The man struggled weakly to keep afloat. His voice was faint. He was sputtering and gagging on water as he tried to call for help.

Gully threw himself forward and raced with clean, powerful strokes toward the man. But when he reached the place, the man was not there.

“He’s gone down!” It was Peggy’s voice, distant, frightened.

Gully dived, forcing himself down, down into the ink-black water. He kept his eyes open but saw nothing. And then his fingers brushed against something—cloth! A sleeve! He grasped it quickly. Gully held tightly and began to fight toward the surface, pulling the man after him.

On the surface the man gasped, coughed, choked and took in a mouthful of water. Gully turned him on his back, slipped his arm under the man’s chin to hold his head above the water.

Stroke by stroke, he swam toward the barge. With a splash, Peggy threw a rope ladder over the side. As it dangled over him, Gully saw Fisty’s feet coming down. A moment later a hand grasped the drowning man by the collar and held him up.