“Hmmm,” whispered Eddie. “Two animals hidden in a cloth bag. Does this look familiar?”
“You know,” McCobber said, and laughed, “maybe I have seen this trick somewhere before, now that you mention it!”
“Like in our own backyard, perhaps?” said Eddie.
“If you will allow me,” continued Mephisto, “I would like to try that again.” He gently returned the animals to the bag and placed it back in the center of the table. Then, holding the cloth up again, he said, “Ing-ah-lah, Ting-ah-lah, Tock-ah-fer. Ing-ah-lah, Fing-ah-lah, Foo!”
When he lowered the cloth, the bag on the table seemed little changed. “Hmmm. Perhaps I need to review my ancient grammar.” Lifting the bag, he peered into it. “Well, at least now we seem to be on the right track.” From it he pulled first a silver spoon, then a knife, a fork, a crystal goblet, and a porcelain plate. He then arranged them on the table like a place setting. With a flourish he snapped the bag in the air, turning it into a freshly ironed napkin, which he promptly tucked into his collar. “You see.” He smiled. “A little perseverance can pay off.”
Holding the cloth up again, he said loudly, “CHOW TIME!” Mephisto swept the cloth away to reveal a roast bird of golden brown, resting on a green bed of parsley.
“Ah, yes!” he exclaimed. “And now the final touch. A fine wine, an 1815 chardonnay, perhaps . . .” Holding the magic cloth in his hands like a bottle, he proceeded to pour a deep, red liquid from it into the glass.
“I had hoped for a white wine, but . . .” He lifted the glass and sipped. “Ah, an 1814 burgundy. Still a fine choice.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said, picking up knife and fork. “I did miss my lunch today, and this is still hot.” Mephisto began to carve the roast bird, and as he did so he mused, “I do wonder whatever became of our friend the rabbit.”
Suddenly he stopped, looked at the bird, and then out at the audience. “Unfortunately,” he said, pulling open the bird and peering into it, “this still looks a little rare!”
Reaching in, he withdrew the flapping dove and nose-twitching rabbit. “Well,” he laughed. “ I guess I did say ‘stuffed,’ after all, didn’t I?”
Holding up the rabbit and dove, he stepped out from behind the table and bowed to the applauding crowd. The band played and the curtain came down.
As the houselights came up and the audience started to leave, Eddie sat deep in thought.
“So now what do I do?” he asked.
“Why, I’d go tell that old gob you know what his demon does on its night off.” McCobber fumed. “And if he doesn’t fess up and take the blame, you’ll expose him!”
“And just how do you propose I do that?” Eddie asked. “‘Excuse me, Captain Mephisto, but my demon thinks your demon should apologize’?”
“Well, why not?” asked McCobber. “If the little devil can dish it out, he’s also got to learn to take it.”
Eddie didn’t answer, but sat pondering as the theater emptied and the lights dimmed.
“Well?”
Eddie finally emerged from his thoughts, realizing that he wasn’t sure just how long he had been sitting in the dark, quiet theater.
“Well?” asked McCobber again impatiently. “Are we going to sit here all night, or what?”
“I’m going backstage to tell him I liked the show,” Eddie said.
“And then . . . ,” said McCobber.
“And that’s it,” Eddie answered. “He was a friend of my family and offered help to my dying mother. If it was his demon that stuck our cat and that rooster into a bag, well, that’s just a secret I’ll have to keep, that’s all!”
“It’s your hide, but if you ask me—”
“I didn’t ask you,” Eddie snapped as he headed up the aisle toward the back of the theater. “Now, are you coming or not?”
“Very funny,” McCobber said. “Like I’ve really got a choice.”
The place appeared to be empty, which was a relief. The last thing Eddie wanted was to have another run-in with that manager. The place was so empty, in fact, that he was beginning to wonder if he might have missed the magician as well.
Slipping into the wings, he heard voices being raised backstage. Eddie ducked behind a section of scenery. It was Mephisto and the manager, and they appeared to be having an argument.
“If you want to fire me, that’s one thing,” Mephisto said, “but at least pay me what you owe me!”
“Come on, old-timer,” the manager sneered. “Just tell me how you do some of that stuff, and you’ll get your dough.”
Mephisto became indignant. “You, sir, have no right to ask that of me. Those are trade secrets.”
“All right, all right,” said the manager, trying a different angle. “Listen, I happen to know this young magician who’s got real style—you know, lots of pizzazz!—but he needs a gimmick. Now, with your tricks and his pizzazz, that guy could really go places!”
“Well,” said Mephisto, “he will have to figure out his own ‘gimmick’. I am still using mine.”
“Look, he’s willing to pay,” the manager coaxed. “I could even cut you in . . . maybe split it fifty-fifty?”
“You are asking me to sell my secrets for a few paltry dollars?” Mephisto said. “This is my act, my livelihood. Thank you, but NO!” He turned to go.
“Listen, Cappy, you’re not quite gettin’ any younger,” said the manager, roughly grabbing the older gentleman’s shoulder, “and you sure can’t take it with you!”
“I am warning you, sir.” The captain spoke with growing impatience. “You had better unhand me.”
“I am through being nice!” The manager grabbed Mephisto by both shoulders and forcibly turned him. “TELL ME NOW!”
Eddie’s growing rage drew him from the shadows.
“I am warning you . . . ,” Mephisto said, angrily facing his assailant.
“So where are these secrets?” the manager asked scornfully. “Under that goofy hat?” With a powerful swing he knocked the hat from the magician’s head, then quickly grabbed the front of his vest. “Or are they in here?”
Suddenly there was a muffled scream that seemed to come from Mephisto’s chest. A pair of small hands burst from his vest pockets, grabbing the manager’s wrists in a viselike grip. A dove appeared in an explosion of flapping wings, buffeting the now shrieking man’s face.
“I warned you!” Mephisto cried. Eddie froze, terrified.
The small hands tightened their grip even more, as the manager sunk to his knees, crying, “STOP! STOP!” In an instant the little fingers were at Mr. Wood’s throat, choking him. Eyes bulging, the man gasped and gagged.
“NO! NO!” Mephisto cried as he grabbed the little arms, trying to wrench them from the man’s throat. “Release him. . . . REE . . . LEASE . . . HIM!” Finally the magician pried the clutching hands free, and the manager fell backward, nearly senseless.
“Run!” Mephisto shouted to the manager. “Run! You have angered it, and I am no longer in control. Run!”
Hands to his throat, gasping for breath, the terrified manager got to his feet. Knocking Eddie out of the way, he ran past the scenery flats and into the dark passage. Running feet echoed down the hallway as he hit the door to the outside with a bang. It slammed shut, and then nothing. . . . Silence.
A shiver ran through Eddie when he realized that they were now completely alone.
He heard Mephisto inhale deeply. Then the magician threw back his head, and an explosion of maniacal laughter split the air.
“Ha, ha, ha! Well done, Dante. Well done!”
As the man cackled, the small demonic arms flailed victoriously from his chest, seeming to glory in its master’s joy.
As Mephisto’s laughter finally subsided, his gaze fell on Eddie.
“Well.” He sighed heavily. “I guess you know our secret.”
“Oh no,” McCobber whispered.
Eddie began to back away slowly. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
Me
phisto took a step closer. “Don’t be afraid.” The little arms reached out blindly toward the boy. “We won’t hurt you.”
Eddie took another step backward, only to find himself trapped by the framework of a scenery flat and its support.
Mephisto inched forward, smiling. “Dante just wants to be friends.”
The old man had taken another step closer, when suddenly his vest ripped open. A dark shape with flashing eyes and teeth lunged forth. McCobber screamed, and Eddie turned away, covering his face with his arm.
“Dante, you silly boy. That’s no way to make friends.” The old man chuckled softly, and Eddie lowered his arm.
Perched on Mephisto’s shoulder was a playful monkey, ruffling the man’s white hair.
Eddie released his breath with a loud sigh. “So that’s your demon!”
Mephisto laughed. “My demon, my angel, my blessing, and my curse. Yes, that’s Dante! But I would be lost without him.” Just then the dove flew from the darkness and landed on a nearby backdrop. “Ah, yes, and I can’t forget Gabriel, or”—he lifted the flap of his coat pocket, revealing the white rabbit’s twitching nose—“Lepus. We are a team, you know.”
“Pssht,” McCobber muttered. “A monkey passin’ himself off as a demon. Why, it’s enough to make a self-respecting imp turn in his horns!”
Eddie approached the old man and monkey with caution. Too much had happened in the last few minutes for him to be completely at his ease.
“Go ahead,” Mephisto reassured him. “He’s calmed down now. Most of that was for dramatic effect anyway. He loves to put on a show.”
The boy reached out slowly, and Dante, with surprising gentleness, took him by the finger and shook it.
“There, you see.” Mephisto smiled. “You have shaken hands and are now friends for life.” Eddie laughed.
“I am sorry you had to see all that,” Mephisto apologized. “But once a performer reaches a certain age, you start to lose your edge, and then every roughneck in the business is ready to throw you out as a has-been.”
“That guy was a real creep,” said Eddie. “I was glad you and Dante scared the devil out of him. Besides, the audience loved your act.”
Mephisto smiled sadly. “Thank you, Edgar. But times have changed. Once, we played only the largest theaters to sold-out crowds.” He stroked the monkey as it began reaching over to preen Eddie’s hair.
“Well, one thing’s for sure,” said Mephisto. “Dante certainly has taken a shine to you. I believe he would like to sit on your shoulder. Do you mind?”
McCobber hissed in Eddie’s ear. “He wouldn’t dare!”
“Sure!” And as the boy moved his shoulder closer, the monkey climbed aboard.
McCobber fumed. “Aaach, you filthy beast! Just make sure you stay on your own side and don’t be throwin’ any of that monkey feces in this direction!”
Mephisto handed Eddie a nut. “Here, give him this. It’s long past his dinnertime. He’s been stuck in the harness much longer than normal today.”
The little hands took the morsel, and then Eddie watched Dante cup them to his face and greedily devour the nut. “So,” said Eddie, looking toward the straps and cagelike structure that showed from beneath the unbuttoned vest. “So it was really Dante hiding under there and performing all those tricks?”
“Well,” Mephisto said, pulling another nut from his pocket. “He’s really only working during the Enchanted Cloth bit, but he does have to stay hidden for the whole act. Would you like to see how it works?”
“Could I?” Eddie was almost hesitant.
“If Dante can trust you, I guess I can too.” He laughed as he held open the vest and fully exposed the shoulder straps and attached framework. “These are made of corset stays and act as a tent. That way no one can detect his movements—and this platform at my middle is where he sits.”
“Amazing!” Eddie said, fascinated.
“Thank you.” Mephisto beamed. “It is effective. The only disadvantage is that I appear even more portly than I truly am.”
“But what an ingenious trick.” Eddie was impressed. “And Dante must be extremely well trained.”
“Oh, he is one of a kind, that’s true enough.” Mephisto patted him with pride. “Dante, would you like to show our new friend Edgar here just how you do your tricks?” The magician held open his vest again, and the monkey leapt from Eddie’s shoulder to the magician’s, then quickly climbed onto the perch within the framework.
“Attaboy, Dante,” Mephisto said as he buttoned up his vest. “He must really like you, son. Usually, after he’s been cooped up for as long as he has been today, it’s impossible to get him to go back inside.” He finished the last button and turned first one way and then the other, as if displaying the latest fashion. It was truly amazing. He simply looked like many other potbellied gentlemen his age.
“Now, imagine I am holding up the Enchanted Cloth.” He held his empty hands up and out in front of himself. “Ah,” he said in his stage voice, “if only I had a glass for my wine.” Instantly a little monkey hand poked through one of the vest pockets and held a crystal goblet in its fist.
Eddie laughed and applauded. “That’s great! But where does the glass come from?”
“Come, come, Edgar,” said Mephisto, wagging his finger. “You can’t expect us to show you all our secrets, can you?”
They both laughed as Mephisto opened his vest and Dante quickly resumed his place on the man’s shoulder.
“So,” Eddie said, offering the monkey another nut, “he has to ride in here all the way back to Mrs. Murphy’s?”
“No,” said Mephisto, “usually I put him in this suitcase. It has a little more breathing room—Wait a minute.” He looked puzzled. “How did you know that I am staying at Murphy’s boardinghouse?”
“Oh . . . Ah . . .” Eddie suddenly felt exposed himself. “I . . . I live in the neighborhood and just happened to be passing by when you came out this evening.”
“Ah, I see,” Mephisto continued. “So, you saw her stop me for the rent?”
Eddie nodded. “And it didn’t look like Dante could have been in the trunk then. It was practically empty.”
“Ah, yes.” Mephisto smiled slyly. “I knew that if we encountered our dear landlady she would be expecting the rent. And just to put to rest any suspicions she might have had about me harboring pets, I took the precaution of putting the money in the suitcase and the monkey under my vest.”
“Then he must have been already tired of hiding under there by the time you got to the theater,” Eddie said.
“Actually,” said Mephisto, “I took an opportunity to put him in the suitcase once I knew we were in the clear.”
“That’s why you went into the shed!” Eddie exclaimed, before he realized what he was doing.
Mephisto stopped short. “How did you . . . ?” Then his eyes widened, as he finally understood. “Oh, my goodness. You are the boy who was out in the yard this morning, aren’t you?”
Eddie nodded and looked down.
“Oh, my boy,” Mephisto cried. “I am so sorry that the blame fell on you. When I heard the commotion this morning and looked out to see them release the rooster and cat from that bag, I suspected Dante was somehow involved.”
“Suspected?” Eddie asked. “Didn’t you know?”
“I was confused.” Mephisto suddenly looked helpless and old. “I must have been asleep when he escaped. You see, we had been up late going over and over a new routine. When we finally went to bed, it must have been well past one a.m. I went out like a light, but Dante must have been restless. And when that infernal rooster crowed at sunup, like it always does, he must have taken matters into his own hands, so to speak.”
“He probably heard our cat yowling too,” Eddie added. “I was just getting to sleep myself when Cairo started in. I can’t really blame Dante, though. When I finally did get to sleep, I dreamt that I had silenced them. In fact, I was still dreaming when I woke up and found myself out on the lawn.”
“So that’s why they blamed you,” Mephisto said. “You had sleepwalked into the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Eddie shrugged. “I guess Dante really does know magic after all. He made everyone believe that I’d performed that miraculous act.”
“But one thing puzzled me this morning,” said Mephisto thoughtfully, “and it puzzles me still. Where did he get the bag? It wasn’t one of mine.”
“That was my pillowcase,” Eddie explained. “I was trying to make Cairo be quiet last night when I . . . ah . . . sort of ‘accidentally’ threw my pillow out the window.” He smiled sheepishly, half-embarrassed. “I found it in the yard this morning without its case. I can remember yanking on some fabric in my dream, so sometime while I was sleepwalking I must have pulled the pillowcase off the pillow. I guess it was still in my hand when I walked over to the judge’s. And Cairo—well, he’s pretty curious, so he probably just came over to see what I was doing in the chicken yard.”
“Aha,” said Mephisto, fitting the pieces together. “So Dante, who apparently arrived at the same time you did, saw a familiar prop—the cloth bag—and two animals he wanted to make disappear—the cat and the rooster. Then, just as he had been trained to do, he stuffed them into the bag and hoped they would vanish!”
“Or turn into dinner,” Eddie said, and laughed.
“He did improvise a dramatic touch that’s not in the act, however,” said Mephisto, “by hanging the bag from the weather vane.”
“Maybe,” Eddie added, “once they didn’t disappear but actually became noisier . . . Maybe he panicked and tried to ditch the evidence.”
“And ended up framing the neighbor kid,” Mephisto said, as they both burst into relieved laughter.
As the laughter subsided, Mephisto became serious again. “I am sorry I was too much of a coward to stand up and take the blame, but I was afraid . . . afraid that if Mrs. Murphy found out about my teammates, we would find ourselves on the street. And frankly, I was terrified that I might have to expose the secret of my act.” He hung his head, ashamed.
Eddie Page 6
