gentlemen," he said to the mockers in a wavering voice,
"I will now present to you the concluding item of my entertainment. I
will cause this lady to disappear under your very eyes, without the
aid of any mechanical contrivance or artificial device." This was the
merest showman's patter, for, as a matter of fact, it was not a very
wonderful illusion. But as he led his wife forward to present her to
the audience the conjurer was wondering whether the mishaps that had
ruined his chance would meet him even here. If something should go
wrong--he felt his wife's hand tremble in his, and he pressed it
tightly to reassure her. He must make an effort, an effort of will,
and then no mistakes would happen. For a second the lights danced
before his eyes, then he pulled himself together. If an earthquake
should disturb the curtains and show Molly creeping ignominiously
away behind he would still meet his fate like a man. He turned round
to conduct his wife to the little alcove from which she should
vanish. She was not on the stage!

For a minute he did not guess the greatness of the disaster. Then he
realised that the theatre was intensely quiet, and that he would have
to explain that the last item of his programme was even more of a
fiasco than the rest. Owing to a sudden indisposition--his skin
tingled at the thought of the hooting. His tongue rasped upon
cracking lips as he braced himself and bowed to the audience.

Then came the applause. Again and again it broke out from all over
the house, while the curtain rose and fell, and the conjurer stood on
the stage, mute, uncomprehending. What had happened? At first he had
thought they were mocking him, but it was impossible to misjudge the
nature of the applause. Besides, the stage-manager was allowing him
call after call, as if he were a star. When at length the curtain
remained down, and the orchestra struck up the opening bars of the
next song, he staggered off into the wings as if he were drunk. There
he met Mr. James Hennings himself.

"You'll do," said the great man; "that last trick was neat. You ought
to polish up the others though. I suppose you don't want to tell me
how you did it? Well, well, come in the morning and we'll fix up a
contract."

And so, without having said a word, the conjurer found himself
hustled off by the Vaudeville Napoleon. Mr. Hennings had something
more to say to his manager.

"Bit rum," he said. "Did you see it?"

"Queerest thing we've stru