by W. W. Jacobs
sovereigns."
"I'm afraid of the air getting to it," ses Bob Pretty.
"You don't want to be afraid o' that, Bob," ses John Biggs, theblacksmith, coming up behind and putting 'is great arms round 'im. "Takeoff that rag, somebody; I've got hold of 'im."
Bob Pretty started to struggle at fust, but then, seeing it was no good,kept quite quiet while they took off the bandages.
"There! look at 'im," ses the conjurer, pointing. "Not a mark on 'isface, not one."
"Wet!" ses Bob Pretty. "Do you mean to say there's no marks?"
"I do," ses the conjurer.
"Thank goodness," ses Bob Pretty, clasping his 'ands. "Thank goodness!I was afraid I was disfigured for life. Lend me a bit o' looking-glass,somebody. I can 'ardly believe it."
"You stole Dicky Weed's watch," ses John Biggs. "I 'ad my suspicions ofyou all along. You're a thief, Bob Pretty. That's wot you are."
"Prove it," ses Bob Pretty. "You 'eard wot the conjurer said the othernight, that the last time he tried 'e failed, and 'ad to giveeighteenpence to the man wot the watch 'ad belonged to."
"That was by way of a joke like," ses the conjurer to John Biggs. "I canalways do it. I'm going to do it now. Will somebody 'ave the kindnessto lend me a watch?"
He looked all round the room, but nobody offered--except other men'swatches, wot wouldn't lend 'em.
"Come, come," he ses; "ain't none of you got any trust in me? It'll beas safe as if it was in your pocket. I want to prove to you that thisman is a thief."
He asked 'em agin, and at last John Biggs took out 'is silver watch andoffered it to 'im on the understanding that 'e was on no account to fireit into Bob Pretty's pocket.
"Not likely," ses the conjurer. "Now, everybody take a good look at thiswatch, so as to make sure there's no deceiving."
He 'anded it round, and arter everybody 'ad taken a look at it 'e took itup to the table and laid it down.
"Let me 'ave a look at it," ses Bob Pretty, going up to the table. "I'mnot going to 'ave my good name took away for nothing if I can 'elp it."
He took it up and looked at it, and arter 'olding it to 'is ear put itdown agin.
"Is that the flat-iron it's going to be smashed with?" he ses.
"It is," ses the conjurer, looking at 'im nasty like; "p'r'aps you'd liketo examine it."
Bob Pretty took it and looked at it. "Yes, mates," he ses, "it's aordinary flat-iron. You couldn't 'ave anything better for smashing awatch with."
He 'eld it up in the air and, afore anybody could move, brought it downbang on the face o' the watch. The conjurer sprang at 'im and caught at'is arm, but it was too late, and in a terrible state o' mind 'e turnedround to John Biggs.
"Afore anybody could move, he brought it down bang on theface o' the watch."]
"He's smashed your watch," he ses; "he's smashed your watch."
"Well," ses John Biggs, "it 'ad got to be smashed, 'adn't it?"
"Yes, but not by 'im," ses the conjurer, dancing about. "I wash my 'andsof it now."
"Look 'ere," ses John Biggs; "don't you talk to me about washing your'ands of it. You finish your trick and give me my watch back agin sameas it was afore."
"Not now he's been interfering with it," ses the conjurer. "He'd betterdo the trick now as he's so clever."
"I'd sooner 'ave you do it," ses John Biggs. "Wot did you let 'iminterfere for?"
"'Ow was I to know wot 'e was going to do?" ses the conjurer. "You mustsettle it between you now. I'll 'ave nothing more to do with it."
"All right, John Biggs," ses Bob Pretty; "if 'e won't do it, I will. Ifit can be done, I don't s'pose it matters who does it. I don't thinkanybody could smash up a watch better than that."
John Biggs looked at it, and then 'e asked the conjurer once more to dothe trick, but 'e wouldn't.
"It can't be done now," he ses; "and I warn you that if that pistol isfired I won't be responsible for what'll 'appen."
"George Kettle shall load the pistol and fire it if 'e won't," ses BobPretty. "'Aving been in the Militia, there couldn't be a better man forthe job."
George Kettle walked up to the table as red as fire at being praised likethat afore people and started loading the pistol. He seemed to be moreawkward about it than the conjurer 'ad been the last time, and he 'ad toroll the watch-cases up with the flat-iron afore 'e could get 'em in.But 'e loaded it at last and stood waiting.
"Don't shoot at me, George Kettle," ses Bob. "I've been called a thiefonce, and I don't want to be agin."
"Put that pistol down, you fool, afore you do mischief," ses theconjurer.
"Who shall I shoot at?" ses George Kettle, raising the pistol.
"Better fire at the conjurer, I think," ses Bob Pretty; "and if things'appen as he says they will 'appen, the watch ought to be found in 'iscoat-pocket."
"Where is he?" ses George, looking round.
Bill Chambers laid 'old of 'im just as he was going through the door tofetch the landlord, and the scream 'e gave as he came back and GeorgeKettle pointed the pistol at 'im was awful.
"The scream 'e gave as George Kettle pointed the pistol at'im was awful."]
"It's no worse for you than it was for me," ses Bob.
"Put it down," screams the conjurer; "put it down. You'll kill 'arf themen in the room if it goes off."
"Be careful where you aim, George," ses Sam Jones. "P'r'aps he'd better'ave a chair all by hisself in the middle of the room."
It was all very well for Sam Jones to talk, but the conjurer wouldn't siton a chair by 'imself. He wouldn't sit on it at all. He seemed to beall legs and arms, and the way 'e struggled it took four or five men to'old 'im.
"Why don't you keep still?" ses John Biggs. "George Kettle'll shoot itin your pocket all right. He's the best shot in Claybury."
"Help! Murder!" says the conjurer, struggling. "He'll kill me. Nobodycan do the trick but me."
"But you say you won't do it," ses John Biggs. "Not now," ses theconjurer; "I can't."
"Well, I'm not going to 'ave my watch lost through want of trying," sesJohn Biggs. "Tie 'im to the chair, mates."
"All right, then," ses the conjurer, very pale. "Don't tie me; I'll sitstill all right if you like, but you'd better bring the chair outside incase of accidents. Bring it in the front."
George Kettle said it was all nonsense, but the conjurer said the trickwas always better done in the open air, and at last they gave way andtook 'im and the chair outside.
"Now," ses the conjurer, as 'e sat down, "all of you go and stand nearthe man woe's going to shoot. When I say 'Three,' fire. Why! there'sthe watch on the ground there!"
He pointed with 'is finger, and as they all looked down he jumped up outo' that chair and set off on the road to Wickham as 'ard as 'e could run.It was so sudden that nobody knew wot 'ad 'appened for a moment, and thenGeorge Kettle, wot 'ad been looking with the rest, turned round andpulled the trigger.
There was a bang that pretty nigh deafened us, and the back o' the chairwas blown nearly out. By the time we'd got our senses agin the conjurerwas a'most out o' sight, and Bob Pretty was explaining to John Biggs wota good job it was 'is watch 'adn't been a gold one.
"That's wot comes o' trusting a foreigner afore a man wot you've knownall your life," he ses, shaking his 'ead. "I 'ope the next man wot triesto take my good name away won't get off so easy. I felt all along thetrick couldn't be done; it stands to reason it couldn't. I done my best,too."
