Chapter V: Part 5

Transfer tube closed to opposite hand and in so doing load in red ball at top. In replacing tube on table open and close it again, so that the ball shall fall, but shall rest within the tube on the table.

“Now I will show you another curious effect. A ball which has been dematerialised in that way becomes very sensitive to colour. I will just give the ball a rub with this red silk handkerchief and drop it into the tube again.” Drop in white ball after rubbing, keeping tube closed; then raise it and show red ball at bottom.

“Here it is again, you see, but it has taken the colour of the handkerchief and is now a rosy red, a sort of maiden’s blush; the blush of a very shy maiden. Unfortunately maiden’s blush is not a fast colour, unless it’s the wrong kind; the kind that’s rubbed in with a powder puff. This kind soon gets pale again. I rub the ball again, this time with a white handkerchief, and again drop it into the tube.”

Drop in red ball, tube closed, lift and show white ball, under cover of its appearance transferring tube to opposite hand and allowing red ball to run back into palm to be got rid of a moment later.

“I think I heard a lady say, ‘Where is the red ball?’ This is the red ball, at least it was the red ball a moment ago. There is no other, for, as you see, the tube is empty.”

Again drop tube over candle as in Fig. 30. Pass ball from hand to hand and finally make believe to swallow it, meanwhile dropping it into the profonde.

“After being treated like this the ball becomes so volatile that I used to be always losing it. But I never lose it now. I just swallow it and then I know just where it is when I want it. It saves a lot of trouble.”

[16] A description of this trick will be found in _The Magician_ for March, 1914.

[17] If preferred the ball instead of being taken openly from the table, may be produced from the wand after the fashion familiar in the Cup and Ball trick, but on the whole I think this is best omitted.

THE BEWILDERING BLOCKS

The blocks which give its title to this trick are inch-square wooden cubes, three in number, as illustrated in Fig. 32. Each is coloured black on two of its opposite sides; these in use being made top and bottom. The four remaining sides are in the case of one block red, of another white, and of a third blue. The only other item of apparatus known to the spectators is a square cardboard tube, as depicted in Fig. 33. This is about five inches long, and of such dimensions laterally as to let either block slide by its own weight easily through it, but no more. All four items may be freely submitted to inspection, for in this case appearances are not deceitful. Both the blocks and the tube are no more and no less than they seem to be.

In exhibiting the trick, the tube is placed upright on the table, and the three blocks are dropped into it one after another, the company being requested to note particularly the order in which they are inserted, which we will suppose to be in the first instance blue, then white, and lastly red, as shown without the tube in Fig. 32. It is clear that, once inserted, they cannot by any natural means alter their relative positions, but, strange to say, when they are again uncovered, the red block just inserted at the top is found to have passed to the bottom, the other two moving up accordingly.

This surprising effect is produced by the secret introduction into the tube of a fourth block of which the spectators know nothing. This, which we will call the “trick” block, is, like the rest, coloured black at the top and bottom; but of the remaining four sides two, contiguous to each other, are red, and the other two blue.

When the tube is handed back to the performer after inspection, before placing it on the table he secretly introduces the trick block into its lower end, privately noting against which sides of the tube the two _red_ faces will lie, and taking care in placing the tube upon the table that the angle formed by these two sides shall be to the front. The other three blocks are then, in accordance with the patter, dropped in from above, in the order shown in Fig. 32, resting, unknown to the spectators, on top of the trick block. When the performer lifts off the tube, which he does grasping it diagonally between thumb and finger at about an inch from the top, he does so with gentle pressure, thereby holding back the uppermost block within the tube, and exposing the two others with the trick block at the bottom, as indicated by Fig. 34.

I gave a description of this trick in the _Magician_ of February, 1914. The patter for its exhibition was based on a popular nursery legend, and as this mode of presentation won general approval from the juveniles I cannot do better than repeat it practically as there given. The needful working instructions will be found interspersed with the patter.

“What I am going to show you now is not a trick, or, if you can call it a trick, it is one that works itself, for you will see for yourselves that I have really nothing to do with it. It is just an illustration of the force of bad example.

“No doubt you have all heard of a young gentleman called Fidgety Phil. There is a little poem about him. It says:

‘Fidgety Phil
Couldn’t keep still,
Made his mother and father ill.’

“There are a lot more verses but I am sorry to say I don’t know them. However, these few lines are enough to show you what sort of a boy Fidgety Phil was. He was the kind of boy that wherever he is, he wants to be somewhere else. When he was standing up he wanted to sit down, and when he was sitting down he wriggled about on his chair till he was allowed to stand up again.

“These little blocks are all that are left of a box of bricks which are said to have belonged to Fidgety Phil and they show what even a box of bricks may come to if a bad example is constantly set before them. These three little bricks have got to be just as fidgety as Phil was himself. Anyhow, that is the only way in which I can account for their queer behaviour.

“Please have a good look at them, and see if you can discover anything peculiar about them. I can’t, myself.” (The blocks are handed for examination.) “They seem to me to be just ordinary bits of coloured wood, and this square tube is believed to have been a chimney pot belonging to the same set. I want you to notice particularly that the bricks are just the right size to fit closely in the chimney. They go in quite easily; but when they are once inside they can’t turn round, or turn over, or change places. But the curious thing is that though they can’t they _do_, as you will see presently.

“I place the chimney-pot here on the table, where you can see all round it, and I drop the three bricks into it one by one. Notice particularly the order in which I put them in. First, the blue. You heard it go down. Next, the white, and now, the red. Don’t forget. Blue at the bottom, white in the middle, and red at the top.

“Now, without my saying or doing anything, they will at once begin to shift about. They can’t keep still for more than a few seconds. When I lift off the chimney pot, you will find that they have changed places.” (It is lifted accordingly, performer holding back the uppermost block within it by gentle pressure on opposite angles of the tube, and exhibiting only the three lower blocks now as in Fig. 34.)

“There, as I told you, like Fidgety Phil, they couldn’t keep still. The white brick has climbed to the top, the red one has gone down to the bottom, and the blue one is now in the middle.

“We will try again. I will put the bricks in in just the same order, to make it easier for you to remember them.”

Performer has meanwhile allowed the red block, left in the upper part of the tube, to sink to the bottom, checked by the third finger, and replaces tube upright on table.

“As before, I drop in first the blue, then the white, then the red.” (This last being the trick block, care must be taken to keep its _red_ sides well to the front.)

“Again I lift off the chimney pot, and again you see, the bricks have changed places. White has come to the top, and red has gone to the bottom again.”

The trick block, which this time remained at the top, is now allowed to slide down to the bottom. The tube is again placed on the table, but so turned that the _blue_ sides of the block within it are brought to the front.

“I can’t tell you why the bricks behave in this way, but you can see for yourselves that _I_ have nothing to do with it. We will try it once more, and for a change I will put the red block in first, then the white and then the blue. That order will be easy to remember. Red, white and blue reckoning from the bottom upwards. Again I remove the cover. The same thing has happened again, but with a little difference. White has come to the top again, but blue has this time gone to the bottom.”

While attention is drawn to the new order of the blocks, the performer allows the ordinary blue one, now left in the tube, to slide out into his hand, and in picking up the others secretly substitutes this for the trick block, which is now at the bottom of the tube.

“Once more, ladies and gentlemen, here is the chimney pot, and here are the three bricks, for inspection by any one who cares to look at them. Perhaps some of you may be able to account for their remarkable behaviour. It’s a puzzle to me; but I never was good at guessing. My own idea is that they are haunted by the ghost of Fidgety Phil. If not, I give it up.”

AN “OD” FORCE

To avoid misconception, it may be well to state at once that the peculiar spelling of the word “od” in the above title is not a printer’s error. The explanation will be found in the patter, which is founded on a discovery claimed to have been made by a scientist at one time of world-wide renown, and the responsibility for so spelling the word rests with him. For programme purposes the reader is at liberty to re-name the trick according to his own fancy. “Mysterious Motion,” or “Moved by Magic” would fairly represent the effect produced, which consists in causing a borrowed coin to move automatically at the will of the operator, in various directions.

The requirements for the trick are as follows:

(1) The “tramway” whereon the coin is to be made to travel. This consists of a slab of wood thirteen inches long by four wide, and three-eighths of an inch thick and covered as to its upper side with fine black cloth. To the cloth-covered side of this is attached, by means of a screw at each corner, a parallelogram of brass or copper wire enclosing a space two inches wide. The four screws, which are likewise of brass, and which are of the round-headed kind, are within the parallelogram and serve to keep the wire extended. Midway at each end is another screw, driven in _outside_ the wire, in such manner as to make all taut. These last two screws, for a reason connected with the working of the trick, stand up a shade higher than the other four, but the difference is not great enough to be noticeable. See Fig. 35.

(2) A special “pull” carried on the person of the performer. This consists of a fine black thread, to one end of which is attached a weight travelling up and down the trouser leg, after the manner described (in connection with a self-suspending wand) at page 111 of “Later Magic.” In the present case, however, the weight is much smaller, being in fact just large enough to rather more than counterbalance the coin used in the trick, _plus_ the friction to be overcome by the thread in the working of the trick. The degree of such friction is an uncertain quantity, as it will largely depend on the nature of the operator’s underwear and its closeness to his own body. The precise weight most effective must be ascertained by previous experiment, and regulated accordingly.

It will be found convenient to use by way of weight a glass tube, closed at the bottom like a test-tube and loaded with buckshot, more or less in quantity according to the weight required. The mouth of the tube is closed by a cork, through which one end of the thread is passed, and secured on the under side by a knot and a spot of gum. When the minimum weight that will effectually serve the desired purpose has been ascertained, any vacant space above the leaden pellets should be filled with cotton wool (to prevent rattling) and the cork should then be cemented into the tube. If preferred, the wool may be interspersed among the buckshot.

The opposite end of the thread, which will be somewhere about thirty inches in length (this again being a point to be determined by experiment), is passed through the curled end of a good-sized safety pin. This, for use in the trick, is attached to the inside of the performer’s vest, just within the lowest part of the opening. To the free-end of the thread, after passing through the loop of the pin, is attached a disc of copper or zinc, three-quarters of an inch in diameter, against which, on one side, is pressed and flattened out a pellet of conjurer’s wax, in good adhesive condition. If the length of the thread has been duly regulated, the little disc will rest normally just within the vest, but can be drawn out the extent of a couple of feet or so, returning swiftly to its hiding place the moment it is released.

(3) A glass ball--professedly crystal.

(4) An ordinary match-box, empty.

Instructions for the working of the trick will be most conveniently given step by step with the patter, which may run as follows:

“In the early days of Queen Victoria’s reign, when the oldest of us here present were good little boys or girls, and the rest were not born or thought of, there lived a celebrated scientific gentleman, called the Baron von Reichenbach. I am sorry to say he was a German, but he couldn’t help it. As his father and mother were Germans, he had to be one too. It shows how careful children ought to be in the choice of their parents. He invented a lot of useful things, among them creosote and paraffin. Neither of them smells very nice, but they don’t trouble about that in Germany.

“Besides being a great chemist, Von Thingany dabbled in what are called the occult sciences, and he claimed to have discovered a new force (a sort of magnetism, only different) and which, he declared, pervaded every thing in nature, especially crystal. Directed by a strong will, like his own, or mine, it would do all sorts of wonderful things. It seemed to me that such a force would come in very handy for magical purposes, and I set to work to invent it over again, and I have at any rate produced something very like it. The Baron called his force ‘odd,’ but he spelt it ‘od,’ which is odd too. You must judge for yourselves whether my force is the same as his, and you can spell it which way you like.

“I have only been able so far to work up a very small amount of the force, say about six mouse-power, so it won’t turn tables, or lift pianos. I can only get it, so far, to move a small weight like a florin or a half-dollar, and that only for a very short distance. For greater conveniences I have made this little tramway for the coin to perform upon. These wires which you see are not for it to travel on, but merely to get more equal distribution of the force. There is nothing out of the way about it, nor with this ball, except that it is crystal. Examine both as much as you please.”

The two articles are accordingly offered for inspection. The performer takes back the tramway in the left hand, holding it by one end in such manner that it is gripped in the fork of the thumb, leaving the thumb itself comparatively free. Taking back the ball with the right hand and remarking “Now to develop the force,” he rubs it on his left coat-sleeve, and strokes the surface of the tramway two or three times with it.

“Having now established a proper degree of ‘oddity’ between the tram and the crystal, I will ask for the loan of a half-dollar (or florin as the case may be) marked in any way the owner pleases.”

He replaces the ball on the table, and in the act of again turning to the audience gets hold of the waxed disc and draws it away from the body, holding it clipped between the ends of the first and second fingers, the left thumb pressing the thread against the cloth top of the tramway, and acting for the time being (and indeed throughout the trick) as a brake neutralising at pleasure the pull of the weight.

He receives the coin on the tramway; then picking it up with the right hand, makes some observation as to the mark, meanwhile pressing the waxed side of the disc against it, then replacing it, disc down, in the middle of the tramway.

“I shall now, by means of the ‘od’ force, compel the coin to move towards me.” This he does accordingly, by relaxing the pressure of the thumb upon the thread and merely bringing the pull of the weight into operation. When the coin has all but reached the nearer end of the tramway, he says, “We will now see if we can make it travel a little longer distance.” So saying he draws the thread out again and lays the coin on the farther end of the tram, and again makes it travel slowly back. A good effect may be here produced by making it stop halfway, and (after remarking in a casual way that the power is hardly strong enough) picking up the ball, again rubbing it upon the sleeve and moving it, a few inches distance, in the direction in which the coin is to travel, when it resumes its journey accordingly.

Once more picking up the coin, he replaces it at the farther end of the tramway, but in so doing passes the thread outside and around the screw at that end. He then remarks, as if bethinking himself: “By the way, a lady suggested the other night that the coin was attracted towards me by my personal magnetism. I know I am an attractive man: I have been told so frequently but that is not the explanation in this case, as I will prove to you by making the coin travel _away_ from me.” So saying, he draws the coin towards him, easing off the pressure on the thread to enable him to do so, and leaves it at the inner end. The ball is now moved away from himself, and the pressure of the brake being relaxed, the coin is now drawn in the same direction.

“‘_Quod erat demonstrandum_,’ as our old friend Shakespeare (or was it Euclid) used to say.” (To the lender of the coin.) “You must take care of this coin, Sir; it is now charged with a minute quantity of the ‘od’ force, and so long as you keep it you can never be ‘stony-broke.’ I will show you just one more effect with it before I return it to you.”

While speaking, he has carelessly picked up the coin, and replaced it on the _inner_ side of the screw so that this shall be no longer encircled by the thread. Picking up the match box from the table, he pushes out the “tray” portion with the forefinger; then throwing aside the outer case, he picks up the tray, and inverts it over the coin.

“I will now show you that the ‘od’ force still operates even though it is cut off from any direct connection with the subject of the experiment: but in this case a little more power is required.” So saying he rubs the glass ball again on his coat-sleeve, and, moving the ball accordingly, causes the coin to travel towards him, the match-box naturally moving with it. In again picking up the coin, to return it to the owner, he detaches it from the disc, which flies back to its original resting-place.

THE MYSTERY OF THE THREE SEALS

This is a trick involving some little trouble in the way of preparation, and perhaps a little more than average address on the part of the performer, but on the other hand it costs little; for all the needful appliances may be homemade, and in the hands of an expert the trick will amply repay the time and trouble expended upon it. Baldly stated, its effect consists in the magical introduction of a marked coin into the innermost of a nest of three envelopes, each securely sealed.

The requirements for the trick are as under:

1. Two nests of envelopes. The innermost of each is one of the little square kind used in shops to contain copper “change,” or to hold the weekly wage of an employee. It should be of cartridge or stout manila paper, and about two inches square. The next larger is of the ordinary square or so-called square-note size, and the third a little larger still. Envelopes of the two last mentioned sizes are not always to be obtained made of cartridge or manila, but this condition is not in their case absolutely essential. The flap of each envelope must be stuck down and sealed with red wax.[18]

2. A special envelope, which we will call the “trick” envelope. This is of the same size and kind as the innermost of the nested envelopes but has undergone special preparation as follows: Taking two ordinary envelopes, cut round the edges of one of them with a penknife, completely dividing back from front. Take the plain or non-flap side of the one so treated, lay it squarely under the flap of the other, and stick the flap down upon it in the ordinary way: then add a seal of red wax, as closely as possible corresponding in appearance with the two seals of the innermost of the nested envelopes. Lastly, cut away the superfluous paper round the seal and the edges of the flap. The envelope will now be shown as in Fig. 36, and when closed will have the appearance of an envelope sealed in the ordinary way, though it as yet lacks the connecting medium for actually securing it.

3. The “coin mat” (page 4) freshly treated with the usual adhesive. The side so treated is to be turned downwards on the table with a shilling pressed against the adhesive portion.

4. A penknife, to be used as envelope opener.

As shortly as possible before the presentation of the trick, the trick envelope must be further prepared by spreading a thin layer of seccotine on that portion of the underside of the flap immediately under the seal.

N. B. This must not be done too long beforehand, as it is essential to the success of the trick that the envelope be used while the seccotine is still in a “tacky” condition.

The envelope prepared as above, to be laid on the table, behind some small object, or preferably just inside the foremost rim of a Japanese tray; at one corner, mouth uppermost, and flap to the rear. Under these conditions, the butting of the opposite edge of the envelope against the forward wall of the tray will be found greatly to facilitate the subsequent introduction of the borrowed coin. Before so placing the envelope, its edges on each side should be pressed slightly inwards, so as to make it expand a little at the opening.

These arrangements duly made, the performer may introduce the trick as follows:

“I don’t know whether anybody here remembers George the Third, I can’t say I do myself. He was before my time, but there is a funny little story told about him. One day when out for a walk, he went into a farmhouse where he found the family having their dinner. One dish consisted of apple-dumplings, and the question crossed the King’s mind, ‘How on earth did the apples get into the dumplings?’ He didn’t like to ask, but he couldn’t get the puzzle out of his head. He thought about it so much and it worried him so that at last he went clean out of his mind. He became _non compos mentis_, which is the doctors’ polite way of saying dotty.

“I mention this story by way of a caution. What I am going to show you is ever so much more incomprehensible than any number of apple-dumplings; in fact, so extra-extraordinary that if anybody here was the least bit excitable and I sprung it upon him unawares he might go dotty like old Georgie. So if any of you feel at all nervous, don’t hesitate to go home, or you can go and sit on the stairs till this particular experiment is over. Nobody moves! I am pleased to find that you are all so strong-minded, but if anything happens don’t blame me.

“I have known strong men; men of massive intellect, like myself, come here with a smile on their faces, but when they left the smile was replaced by an air of grim determination. You could see at a glance that they had made up their minds to find out how it was done, or _die_. They haven’t come again: so I suppose they died.[19]

“As you are prepared to run the risk I will ask some gentleman to oblige me with the loan of a shilling, marked, in some unmistakable way. Thank you, Sir. You have marked the coin? Then please place it here, on this little tray. I won’t touch it myself at present. All please keep one eye upon it, the other eye you had better keep on me.”

Receive the coin on the mat, held in right hand. After showing the left hand empty, transfer the mat to that hand and show the right empty. Return the mat to right hand, but before doing so turn that hand over so as to receive the mat with thumb undermost. Just as you reach the table to place the mat upon it bring the second and third fingers over the borrowed coin, and under cover of your own body turn the mat over. In putting it down on the table draw away the borrowed coin into the hand and palm it. To the eye of the spectator the state of things will be unaltered, your own coin, now uppermost on the mat, being taken for the borrowed one.

You continue, standing behind your table, and resting the right hand, with the palmed coin, close to the trick envelope, and holding up the two nests in the other hand: “I have here two envelopes, or, to be exact, six envelopes, for each of those you see contains two more, one within the other: all carefully sealed. I am going to pass the coin this gentleman has lent me into the innermost of one or other of them, I don’t care which, for they are exactly alike, so I shall leave the choice to yourselves.”

While you are speaking as above the disengaged hand slips the genuine coin into the trick envelope, closes it, pressing the flap well down, and palms it, dropping it a moment or two later into a pochette till needed.

“You decide for this envelope? Just as you please. As the other will not be needed I will ask somebody to open it, and bear witness that things are exactly as I have stated.”

Leaving the chosen envelope on the table in full view and bringing forward the other, have the latter opened by some member of the company with the penknife. Hand the envelope produced from it, with the knife, to a second spectator, to be dealt with in like manner. When the innermost is reached, have this opened by the lender of the marked coin: this apparent proof of good faith tending to make him less critical when, at a later stage, he is invited to do the same with the trick envelope.

“Nothing could be fairer, could it? You will all agree that it would have been impossible to introduce anything into the innermost of those three envelopes without breaking all three seals. When I say impossible, of course I mean impossible to a mere man. To a magician there is no such word as impossible, except in the dictionary. In fact, the more impossible a thing is, the more any respectable magician makes up his mind to do it. Watch me carefully, please. I want you to be quite sure all through that there is no deception.

“Now then, to pass the coin into this other envelope.” As you say this, you pick up the coin mat, depress it enough for all present to see the coin upon it, and make the motion of sliding it off into the left hand. This should be done while standing a little in front of your table. In turning to replace the mat, reverse it and lay it with the side to which the coin adheres downwards. If deftly executed, this reversal of the mat will be imperceptible, as it is covered by the turn to the table. Even if it were noticed it would have practically no significance for the spectators, who naturally take it for granted that the coin has passed from the mat into your hand. The moment you have laid down the mat, the now disengaged hand picks up the nest of envelopes, and you make believe to rub the coin (supposedly in left hand) into it. This done, you hold the envelope aloft in each hand alternately, allowing it to be seen that the hands are otherwise empty.

“So far, so good! The coin has passed from my hands into the innermost envelope. But I don’t expect you to take my word for it. Will you, sir” (any given spectator) “open the outermost envelope, first, however, satisfying yourself that it is still securely sealed?”

It is just possible, though not very likely, that the person to whom the envelope and penknife have been handed may notice, and remark audibly, that he cannot feel any coin in the envelope. If such a remark is made, you reply that the coin naturally had to be dematerialised before it could pass into the envelope, and it will take a few minutes for it to re-materialise, but it will become gradually more solid, and will then be distinctly perceptible.

The outer envelope having been opened you take back its contents, and under pretext of getting as many witnesses as possible to fair play, have the next envelope opened by a second person, seated at some little distance from the lender of the shilling. The last named gentleman is invited himself to open the last envelope, or rather, the trick envelope, which you in transit substitute for it. Having already opened a precisely similar envelope, and found it securely fastened, he is not likely to anticipate anything different about this one. If he uses the penknife and cuts it open along the edge of the flap in the usual way he will naturally hold it with the thumb upon the seal and all will be well. As a rule, he will be more concerned to identify the coin as the one he lent than to seek for any suspicious feature about the envelope. Even in the unlikely case of his tearing open the envelope, instead of cutting it, it is doubtful whether he would detect the use of the seccotine, which should by this time be practically dry; and by the rest of the spectators it would still be taken for granted that this envelope, like the rest, was sealed in the ordinary way.

It will be obvious to the expert reader that the central idea, viz., the transformation by the use of seccotine of an open envelope into one apparently sealed in the regular way, is one that admits of a wide variety of detail as to the mode of presentation. For instance: The procedure suggested for getting rid of the duplicate coin, and apparently rubbing it into the envelope, is but one of many alternatives. The coin might be “passed” by the agency of fire, _i.e._, wrapped in a piece of flash paper with open fold at bottom and flared off at the psychological moment over a candle flame, or it might be got rid of by vanishing it into the pocket of a black art mat, or by the use of a black art patch, as described at page 20.

The critical part of the trick is the “switching” of the two envelopes at the final stage, but in view of their small size this is a matter of very little difficulty. The expert will probably do this after some fashion of his own. The less instructed reader may use the following plan, which he will find by no means difficult of execution, though it will need some little practice to work it neatly.

While the second envelope is being opened, get the trick envelope from the pochette into the right hand, clipping it against the second and third joints of the second and third fingers, with the “seal” side turned away from them. When the genuine envelope is handed to you receive it with the left hand, and immediately transfer it to the right, pushing it between the fingers and the palmed one, with the seal facing in the same direction. The moment it is masked by the fingers push the trick envelope outward with the thumb, bringing this into view in its place. Smartly executed the change is instantaneous and cannot possibly be detected. The apparent object of passing it from hand to hand is to have the left hand empty and so free to take back the penknife from the last holder. From this point all will be easy, as it is the trick envelope which is now alone in view, and all you have to guard against is any accidental exposure of the one now hidden in the hand.

This description may justly appear somewhat long-winded, but its length is occasioned by the number of small details demanding notice. In performance, the trick should not take, at most, more than ten minutes. The introductory patter may of course be shortened at pleasure.

[18] If the performer does not object to the slight additional trouble, he will find an easy method of obtaining envelopes exactly square and of any desired description of paper, indicated in the chapter entitled “A Few Wrinkles,” _post._

[19] This rigmarole may equally well be used by way of introduction to any other trick of sufficient importance. King George’s puzzlement about the dumplings is said to be a matter of history, but, I do not guarantee it as a fact.

THE WIZARD’S POCKETBOOK

This is an extremely small volume, consisting in fact of six pages only, and no letterpress, the instructions for its use being embodied in a separate leaflet. On each of its pages are miniature reproductions of thirty-six playing cards, six in a row; every card of the pack being represented once at least among the whole number. The object of the book is to enable the owner to discover the name of a card drawn (or merely thought of) by some member of the company. The chooser is only asked to look at the book, and state on which one or more of its pages the card in question appears, when the performer, without seeing or handling the book himself, can instantly name the card. The six pages of the book are reproduced in the diagrams which follow. Figs. 37-42.

To be in a position to work the trick, it is necessary in the first place to memorise each of the fifty-two cards of the pack in connection with a particular number. This may at first sight appear a formidable undertaking, but it is not so in reality.

All that really needs to be memorised is the order of the suits; which is as under:

1. Clubs.
2. Hearts.
3. Spades.
4. Diamonds.

This order may be instantly recalled by using as a memory-peg the word _CH_a_S_e_D_, which contains the initials of the four suits in the proper order, or the reader may if he prefers it recall them by reflecting that _Cool Heads Soon Decide_.

The arrangement of each suit follows the natural order, the ace of clubs being No. 1; the deuce 2; and the trey 3; knave 11; queen 12 and king 13. The card next following, viz., the ace of hearts, will be 14; the deuce of hearts 15, and so on, the complete arrangement being as shown below:

1. Ace of clubs.
2. Deuce of clubs.
3. Trey of clubs.
4. Four of clubs.
5. Five of clubs.
6. Six of clubs.
7. Seven of clubs.
8. Eight of clubs.
9. Nine of clubs.
10. Ten of clubs.
11. Knave of clubs.
12. Queen of clubs.
13. King of clubs.
14. Ace of hearts.
15. Deuce of hearts.
16. Trey of hearts.
17. Four of hearts.
18. Five of hearts.
19. Six of hearts.
20. Seven of hearts.
21. Eight of hearts.
22. Nine of hearts.
23. Ten of hearts.
24. Knave of hearts.
25. Queen of hearts.
26. King of hearts.
27. Ace of spades.
28. Deuce of spades.
29. Trey of spades.
30. Four of spades.
31. Five of spades.
32. Six of spades.
33. Seven of spades.
34. Eight of spades.
35. Nine of spades.
36. Ten of spades.
37. Knave of spades.
38. Queen of spades.
39. King of spades.
40. Ace of diamonds.
41. Deuce of diamonds.
42. Trey of diamonds.
43. Four of diamonds.
44. Five of diamonds.
45. Six of diamonds.
46. Seven of diamonds.
47. Eight of diamonds.
48. Nine of diamonds.
49. Ten of diamonds.
50. Knave of diamonds,
51. Queen of diamonds.
52. King of diamonds.

The arrangement of the table being once understood, the number associated with any given card in the club suit suggests itself automatically, _e.g._, the seven of clubs is likewise No. 7 in the list. To ascertain the name of the card corresponding to any of the higher numbers, all that is needed is to subtract from that number 13, or such higher multiple of thirteen as the case will admit, and the difference will represent its position in its own suit.

Suppose, for instance, that the performer desires to know what card answers to the number 20. Deducting thirteen from 20, the remainder, 7, tells him that the card is the seventh (_i.e._ the seven) of the second suit, viz., hearts. If he wants to know the name of No. 29, he deducts 26, when the remainder, 3, tells him that the card is the three of the third suit, spades. If the card be No. 40, the number to be deducted will be 39, and the remainder, 1, tells him that the card is the first of the fourth suit, viz., the ace of diamonds. After a very few trials, this little exercise in mental arithmetic becomes so familiar that the calculation becomes practically instantaneous.

Going a step further; with each of the six pages of the pocket-book is associated a special number, known as its “key” number. These are as under:

Page 1 Key Number 1
” 2 ” ” 2
” 3 ” ” 4
” 4 ” ” 8
” 5 ” ” 16
” 6 ” ” 32

The memorising of these is also a very simple matter, for it will be noted that the key numbers are the first six factors of the familiar geometrical progression, 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32. Printed as below:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
---------------------
1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32

the upper figures, in ordinary type, expressing the numbers of the pages, and the lower, in black type, the corresponding key numbers, a very small amount of study will associate them so closely in the mind as to fix them firmly in the memory.

Having mastered these two simple lessons, the learner is in a position to use the pocket-book. To ascertain the card chosen, he has only to add together the key numbers of the pages in which he is told that such card appears. The total will be the number at which that card stands in the list given on page 185, and, this being known, it becomes an easy matter to name the card itself.

We will suppose, for instance, that performer is told that the chosen card appears on the second page, and no other. The key number of this page being 2, the card must be the second in the list, viz., the deuce of clubs. If he is told that the chosen card is to be found on pages 1, 3 and 6: the key number of these three pages being 1, 4 and 32: together making 37, and thirty-seven less twenty-six being eleven, he knows that the card must be the eleventh of the third suit, otherwise the knave of spades. If he is told that the card is on the third, fifth and sixth pages, the key numbers of which are 4, 16 and 32, total 52, it is clear that the card must be the last in the list, viz., the king of diamonds.

* * * * *

So much for the working of the trick. But the reader, if of an enquiring mind, will naturally ask, “How is this result obtained?” The answer rests upon a special property of the geometrical progression which forms the six key numbers. It is a curious fact that by the use of these six numbers, either singly or in combination with others of the series, any number, from unity up to 63, can be expressed. Thus, the numbers, 1, 2, 4, 8, 16 and 32 we already have, these being numbers of the series. As to other numbers:

1 + 2 = 3
4 + 1 = 5
4 + 2 = 6
4 + 2 + 1 = 7
8 + 1 = 9
8 + 2 = 10
8 + 2 + 1 = 11
8 + 4 = 12
8 + 4 + 1 = 13

and so on throughout up to 52, which being the limit of the pack, is the highest number with which we need concern ourselves.

In making up the pages of the pocket-book, advantage has been taken of this principle. A given card is inserted on that page or pages (and those only) whose key numbers, alone or added together, correspond with the position which the card holds in the list. Thus the ace of clubs will appear on the first page (not because it is the first card, but because the key number of that page is 1) and on no other. The deuce of clubs, in like manner, on page 2, the key number of that card being two. The next card, the three of clubs, must appear on page 1 and page 2, their key numbers together amounting to 3. The process as to cards standing at higher numbers is the same. Thus, the ace of spades, being the twenty-seventh card, and twenty-seven being the aggregate of 16, 8, 2 and 1, will appear on the first, second, fourth and fifth pages. Conversely, if the performer is told that the card appears on the four pages last named, he knows that it is the twenty-seventh card, _i.e._, the ace of spades. Any spaces remaining vacant on the page after the whole pack has been dealt with, are filled up by duplicates of cards already figuring _on the same page_, their appearing under these conditions making no difference to the calculation.

I am indebted to an ingenious amateur, Mr. Victor Farrelly, for the idea of a novel method of using the pocket-book. Mr. Farrelly does not offer of his own accord to show what can be done with it, but keeps it in reserve, for use in a special emergency. Every conjurer meets now and then with the pig-headed person who absolutely declines to have a given card forced upon him, and persists in endeavouring to extract one from some other part of the pack. Armed with the pocket-book, the performer can set such a person at defiance, and indeed get additional _kudos_ from his objectionable behaviour.

He cheerfully gives up the struggle, saying “You seem to think, sir, that I wish to influence your choice in some way. To prove the contrary, I give the pack into your own hands. Shuffle it well. Thank you. Now take from it any card you please. Look at it, and put it in your pocket. You are satisfied, I presume, that I do not know that card? You are quite right. I have not the smallest idea of it, but I shall discover it without the smallest difficulty by a process of mathematical magic. I have here” (producing pocket-book) “a little book of six pages, on each of which thirty-six cards are illustrated. Will you kindly see whether the card you chose is represented among those on the first page? Meanwhile I will divide the pack, which please remember I have not touched since you shuffled it yourself, into six portions, one for each page of the book.” This is done, the six packets being turned face down on the table.

We will suppose that the chosen card is not found on the first page. “Then,” says the performer, “this first packet will tell me nothing, and may be disregarded. Now, for the second page, is your card upon that? It is? Then I draw two cards from the second heap, and turn up one of them. And now for the third page. Do you find your card there? You do? Then I take up three cards from the third packet, and again turn up the last one.”

We will suppose that the chosen card is not found in either the fourth or the fifth page, but re-appears on the sixth, whereupon six cards are counted off from the corresponding packet, and the last of them turned up. The performer has by this time mentally added up the key numbers of the second, third and sixth pages: viz., 2, 4 and 32, together making 38, and knows therefrom that the card is the thirty-eighth in the list, viz., the queen of spades. He does not however at once display his knowledge, but pretends to make a mental calculation from the cards exposed upon the table, giving, if he so pleases, and the cards lend themselves to it, some fanciful explanation of his method. It seems to me, however, that this last is a needless elaboration. Personally, I should prefer merely to call attention by name to the cards exposed, and say, “When these three cards appear in conjunction, it is clear that the card drawn was the queen of spades” (or whatever it may happen to be). Any one deluded, as the majority will probably be, into believing that you really infer the name of the drawn card from those on the table, will be farther from the real solution than ever.

CONCERNING PATTER

It will doubtless have been observed that I have in the foregoing pages been somewhat lavish in respect of patter. I have done so for two or three reasons.

First, in order to enable the reader to form a better estimate of the effect of the trick presented, duly clothed and coloured, to the mind of the spectator. A trick described, however minutely, from the mere mechanical or technical point of view, gives scarcely more idea of its actual effect than the rough charcoal sketch of the artist does of the finished painting. Secondly, because ready-made patter, if the reader cares to use it, will save him a considerable amount of trouble. My third reason is more personal, namely, that it has been a labour of love to do so. To my mind the devising of some little bit of appropriate fiction to serve as introduction to a trick is the pleasantest part of the inventor’s work.

It may perhaps be thought that I have, in some of the more ambitious tricks, been overliberal in this particular. I remember thinking, after witnessing a “show” by Dr. Lynn, a popular performer of the last generation, that he had talked a great deal, and done very little, and that I had had very little real magic for my money. On the other hand, the loquacious doctor was always amusing, and it must not be forgotten that to amuse, even more than to puzzle, is the _raison d’être_ of the modern magician. It seems to me therefore quite legitimate to use, to a reasonable extent, the art of the _raconteur_ to supplement that of the magician.

If my own patter is in some cases found superabundant, I have at any rate done my best to make it amusing, and if the reader opines that I have not paid sufficient regard to the late Mr. Ducrow’s celebrated maxim, “Cut the cackle, and come to the ’osses,” he is quite at liberty to cut my cackle to what he may consider more reasonable proportions. No doubt, time would be saved thereby. If, for instance, he were to cut out the little romantic fictions with which I have introduced “The Miracle of Mumbo Jumbo” and “The Story of the Alkahest,” and start “right away” with the bare performance of the trick, both could be exhibited in little more time than I have allotted to either alone. Which treatment is likely to give the greater satisfaction to his audience, he must decide for himself.

Where the performer has the gift (for a “gift” it undoubtedly is) of devising effective patter for himself I am strongly in favour of his doing so. Borrowed patter may be likened to a borrowed dress-coat. It is never likely to be an exact fit, and a “giant’s robe upon a dwarfish thief,” or the reverse, cannot be expected to be a becoming garment. Every man has, or should have, a style of his own, and it is rarely good policy to imitate that of somebody else. If a low comedy man were to essay to play Hamlet, or a tragedian, however eminent, were to try to give an imitation of Harry Lauder, the result would be likely to be disappointing.

The reader, undertaking to write his own patter, and desirous of making it just what patter should be, will find counsels of perfection in “Our Magic,” and the more nearly he can approach them the better. As, however, all have not the good fortune to possess that admirable work, I venture to indicate what to my own mind seem to be the chief points to be aimed at.

It is almost a commonplace to say that the main object of patter is misdirection. As the term is more usually applied, this means something said or done midway in the course of a trick to draw away the attention of the audience at some critical moment, and to create what the French conjurers call a “_temps_” _i.e._, an “opportunity” for doing, unnoticed, some necessary act. But misdirection may very well start at an earlier stage than this: in fact, well in advance of the actual execution of the trick. Each trick should have some sort of introduction, and the patter serving this purpose should be such as to lead the mind of the hearer away from the true explanation of the marvel, and to suggest, in a more or less plausible way, some other, remote from the real one.