The Man Who Was Magic (17 page)

“What about my teeth, too?” put in Fussmer. “We can’t have people going around snatching out my teeth.”

Mopsy’s heart sank again, for this was no laughing matter any longer. It had never occurred to him that Malvolio would dare to use him as a hostage.

Dante the Dazzling arose and said, “I never cared very much for blackmail. I’m getting out of here,” and he was joined by Boldini, Saladin and Wang Fu.

The others stayed, including Frascati who had not been wholly convinced. The opportunity to satisfy their curiosity was too much for them and in this manner they fell into Malvolio’s trap. For once having accepted his authority, there could be no drawing back.

Malvolio waited until they had departed and then sneered, “Now that those four lily-livered milksops are out, we can get down to business. I was beginning to think that you men didn’t appreciate what I’ve been trying to do for you. Obviously, this fellow’s a real magician. If he starts teaching his favorites, like Ninian says he has already done with Robert’s daughter, that will be the beginning of the end for all of us.”

Abdul Hamid made Malvolio’s pet finger and throat gesture and said, “Zot’s ze best idea yet.”

“Exactly!” agreed Malvolio. “Tonight. But I’m a fair-minded person and won’t have anyone saying I’m not. We’ll give him one more chance at the finals. We’ll all be there watching every move he makes and I’ll be right down front in the theater. All of us are experienced in every kind of routine there is. Well, if in his act he pulls one bit of funny business that can’t be explained, that’s it, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Me too,” echoed Zerbo, Fussmer, Rajah Punjab, Frascati and Mephisto.

“Vat do you intend to do?” asked Abdul Hamid.

“Just this,” replied Malvolio and then, as he explained the plot, Mopsy saw how diabolically clever he was being. No one would be able to blame
him
for Adam’s death, or for anything that happened. The Magicians in on the scheme were to distribute themselves about the Auditorium and begin talking and agitating against Adam and urging their sections to keep a sharp eye on the stage and be on their guard.

The early whispering campaign had already done its work well; suspicion had been sowed. When Malvolio down front gave the signal, all the agitators were to rise simultaneously and whip up the magicians from ordinarily law-abiding and kindly persons into a hate-filled mob.

“Of course,” concluded Malvolio, “if he just gives our kind of show, it won’t be necessary.” But inside himself he had already determined to give the signal anyway. “Then we just put on a little pressure to find out the egg, goldfish bowl and teeth tricks—ahem—for our archives, and that will be that.” Gazing about them with a sanctimonious smirk on his face, he concluded, “It’s for our wives and families.”

There was no longer any disagreement. Somehow Malvolio had managed to twist it around so that if anything unfortunate occurred to Adam that night, he would have brought it upon himself.

Mephisto asked, “What do we do with the hound now?”

“Toss him back next door,” Malvolio ordered. “He’ll keep there until after the show.”

Zerbo, lured into a sense of false security by Mopsy’s docility, advanced to carry out instructions and ran into a suddenly animated circular saw of teeth and claws, as Mopsy fought for all he was worth.

Mephisto joined in the fray. From a safe distance Malvolio coached, “Hold him! Don’t let him get away, boys! That’s it! Hang on to him!”

Mopsy battled valiantly, but the odds were too great against one small dog, and kicking, squirming, biting, scratching and snarling, he was thrown back into the Museum and the door slammed on him.

The last he heard, as the magicians quit the conference room, was Zerbo saying, “My hands! Look what that rotten little beast did to them!”

And Mephisto chiming in, “He’s bitten three of my fingers, too!”

This was small comfort now to Mopsy, shut away with full knowledge of the plot and helpless to do anything about it. It was the most terrible fix he had ever been in in his whole life. For he knew that not even Adam’s magic would be able to aid him, unless his master knew where he was. Adam was certain to produce something sensational of his own to win entrance into the Guild of Magicians upon which his heart was so set, and then they would rise up and destroy him, and Jane as well, for she would be on stage with him. And here he was, unable to warn or help the two people he most loved in the world.

XVII

A
DAM
I
S
W
ARNED

A
dam sat in his dressing room beneath the Auditorium of Mageia with a heavy heart. There wasn’t even Mopsy to talk to or discuss things with, because Mopsy was missing. But it was not alone the mystery of the inexplicable disappearance of his friend that was weighing him down.

The rows of lights surrounding the wall-sized, make-up mirror showed him a different Adam from the one to which he was accustomed and he was not pleased with what he saw. He had shed the skin of his old, familiar costume of soft, deer’s leather and climbed into the full dress suit of the stage magician, clad for a gala—white tie, tails and top hat.

The clothes fitted him faultlessly, as though they had been made for him and with his long nose, strangely colored eyes and fiery hair, he was handsomer and rather more like a faun than ever. But to Adam the person who peered back at him from the mirror looked out of place.

He recalled the lightness of heart with which he had set forth for Mageia with the purpose of developing and improving and, perhaps, even handing on this strange gift of magic that was his and which he wished to share with others.

But from the moment he had passed through the gates it had all turned out so differently from what he had expected. He smiled to himself as he thought that really the only nice thing that had happened since he had come there had been Jane, and the trust, belief and love he had gained from the child.

And what about Mopsy’s warning of danger? He smiled again, but sadly, as he remembered the tingling feelings that Mopsy kept saying he had between the end of his spine and the beginning of his tail. And now, when he needed him most, his friend had vanished.

From without came the constant running of feet in the corridor onto which all the dressing rooms opened, voices and smothered laughter, and cries of greeting as the magicians arrived to prepare for the event just about to begin.

Adam asked himself whether perhaps he had not been too sharp with the little dog, and whether Mopsy might be sulking. But he was certain this couldn’t be, for it wasn’t his character. He had a degree of independence and outspokenness, but he bore no grudges and by and large was obedient.

When, after a half hour, Mopsy had not returned, Adam had thought that he must just have forgotten the time, or got onto the scent of something interesting, and wouldn’t be far away. He had gone out to look for him, calling, “Mopsy, Mopsy, where are you?” There had been no reply, even after he had given the high, piercing whistle which was their signal and which usually reached Mopsy’s ears no matter how far afield he had strayed. When there had been no patter of feet racing back to him, Adam had returned puzzled and troubled to prepare to leave for the theater.

What could have happened? One comfort: there was no wheeled traffic in Mageia to endanger him. Might he have got lost? Or fallen asleep? The one thing that never dawned upon Adam was the truth.

The Stage Manager had knocked at his door to check once more with Adam. The Orchestra Leader had appeared to ask for the sheets of his music and to inquire what tempo he wished it played during his performance. They had been sent away together quite bewildered.

“That must be some act,” said the Stage Manager outside the door. “He doesn’t want any set at all. Okay, so we’ll give him a bare stage.”

“And no music,” added the Orchestra Leader. “All right. I can let my boys have a rest while he’s on,” and they had gone off.

Left alone again, Adam called upon his store of courage, which had never failed him before. He reflected that Mopsy was clever and accustomed to using his brains, as he had demonstrated many times in the past. He would probably turn up after the show rather ashamed of himself. And as for his own desire to become a member of the Guild of Master Magicians, well, he had come this far and might as well go on. He realized at this point that he had not yet really given a thought to what he would do for the final test. Something spectacular, The Great Robert had advised. He supposed he would get an idea, but for the moment his heart wasn’t in it.

For he always came back to the worry— Where was Mopsy? What had happened to him? And supposing he was in trouble? Unless Adam knew exactly where Mopsy was, he could not direct his magic to help him.

There came a knock on the door. Adam cried, “Come in!” It was the Robert family with Jane in tow. She was looking unusually pretty in a brand new, spangled costume of pink and blue silk with flashing sequins, and a smart, short cape to match in the same colors hung from her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She was happier than she had ever been before. Only a few days ago she had been weeping miserably, locked in a room, the butt of the family.

On the other hand, her brother Peter, his face slightly less lumpy now, was subdued. Of course he was jealous of his sister and the prominence into which she had suddenly been thrust, but there it was. Even his father and mother were making a fuss over her, which was a novel experience for him.

“Well, my boy,” The Great Robert said heartily, “here’s your little assistant. We’ve all come to wish you luck.”

“Oh yes,” agreed Mrs. Robert, “we hope that Jane does well.”

“Why Jane,” said Adam, “how sweet you look! I
am
proud to have you . . .”

But Jane made no reply. She had been glancing about the room and some of the color had gone from her cheeks.

“By Jove,” Robert said, “my suit fits you perfectly—like a glove.” He went to Adam, passed his hand over his shoulders and back and then patted his sides. “No pigeons, eh?” he chuckled. “Ha, ha, ha! We’ll be up in the stage box watching, and I’m sure you’ll have something extraordinary to show us all.” Then he added, “And afterwards—ha, ha—there’ll be something to eat at our house, of course and—ah—that little demonstration you promised. Well, come on everyone, Adam probably wants to go through his routine with Jane.” He and his wife and Peter trooped out, shutting the door behind them.

“Where’s Mopsy?” asked Jane.

“I don’t know,” Adam replied. “He’s disappeared.”

Jane gave a cry of anguish, “Disappeared? How? Where? What happened?”

“I don’t know. I let him out late this afternoon and he didn’t come back. I thought perhaps he was just being naughty, for we’d had a little quarrel before.”

“Oh no,” said Jane. “Mopsy wouldn’t do that.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Adam agreed. “It isn’t like him.”

Jane was quite pale now and on the verge of tears, for Mopsy had grown dear to her. “Do you suppose anything dreadful could have happened to him? Poor Mopsy! I can’t bear it, I love him so. Perhaps he ate poison and is sick or dying. Oh, Adam, can’t you do something?”

The young magician replied, “Not unless I know where he is.”

“But your magic box!” cried Jane. “Can’t you use that? You told me . . .”

“. . . that you can use it for imagining. I’ve tried thinking where he might be and sending out magic waves in the hope that he might be there. But he wasn’t.”

“We must try again,” said Jane. “Oh please, do! Perhaps he’s back at the house by now.”

Adam tried.

“Or down by the city gates?”

There was no result.

“Or maybe for some reason he’s gone to the picnic grounds.”

Nothing worked. It was like throwing out radar waves into an empty sea. None of Adam’s magic came back to him to tell him it had found Mopsy. For, of course, it never occurred to them to think of, or even imagine the one place where he was helplessly locked up in Mageia’s Museum of Magic in the basement of the Town Hall, across the Square.

They were unaware that the dressing-room door had been opening silently, until someone went, “Psst!”

They turned and saw that it was Ninian. Adam said, “Hello, come in.” For a moment he thought and hoped that the magician might have heard something of Mopsy’s whereabouts.

“Psst!” hissed Ninian again, and then, “Shsh!” as he slipped inside the door. “Nobody must know I’m here—not a soul!”

“Why, Ninian,” Jane asked, “what’s the matter? You’re in a state.”

Which was indeed true. He appeared to be in a complete twitter and so frightened, worried and nervous his cheeks were shaking as well as his limbs. “Shsh! Not so loud!” He shut the door quickly and hissed some more with his finger to his lips, then whispered, “I’ve come to warn you. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll flee at once. They’re after you.”

“After me?” said Adam. “Whatever for? And who are ‘They?’ ”

Adam having spoken in his normal voice, Ninian went into a perfect frenzy of “pssts” and “shshs” and then croaked, “Malvolio and his crowd. They think you’re a magician.”