boucher book oct28.pdf - Index of

38 Anthony Boucher
Fergus took another long drink himself. “Go on. There’s another bottle in the
car, and I’ve gone far enough to be resolved not to leave here sober. And I don’t want
sober companions, either.” His green eyes were already beginning to glow with a
new wildness.
“No, thank you, colleague.”
Gloria Garton left her throne, walked over to the plump man, and stood close,
her soft hand resting on his arm. “Oh,” she said, implying that dogs were dogs, but
still that the party was unquestionably in her honor and his refusal to drink was a
personal insult.
Ozymandias the Great looked at Gloria, sighed, shrugged, resigned himself to
fate, and drank.
“Have you trained many dogs?” the casting director asked.
“Sorry, colleague. This is my first.”
“All the more wonderful! But what’s your profession otherwise?”
“Well, you see, I’m a magician.”
“Oh,” said Gloria Garton, implying delight, and went so far as to add, “I have
a friend who does black magic.”
“I’m afraid, ma’am, mine’s simply white. That’s tricky enough. With the black
you’re in for some real dangers.”
“Hold on!” Fergus interposed. “You mean really a magician? Not just presti …
sleight of hand?”
“Of course, colleague.”
“Good theater,” said the casting director. “Never let ’em see the mirrors.”
“Uh-huh,” Fergus nodded. “But look, Mr. Manders. What can you do, for
instance?”
“Well, I can change—”
Yoggoth barked loudly.
“Oh, no,” Ozymandias covered hastily, “that’s really a little beyond me. But I
can—”
“Can you do the Indian rope trick?” Gloria asked languidly. “My friend says
that’s terribly hard.”
“Hard? Why, ma’am, there’s nothing to it. I can remember that time in Darjeeling—”
Fergus took another long drink. “I,” he announced defiantly, “want to see the
Indian rope trick. I have met people who’ve met people who’ve met people who’ve
seen it, but that’s as close as I ever get. And I don’t believe it.”
“But, colleague, it’s so simple.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Ozymandias the Great drew himself up to his full lack of height. “Colleague,
you are about to see it!” Yoggoth tugged warningly at his coattails. “Leave me alone,
Wolf. An aspersion has been cast!”
Fergus returned from the wings dragging a soiled length of rope. “This do?”
“Admirably.”
“What goes?” the casting director demanded.
“Shh!” said Gloria. “Oh—”
She beamed worshipfully on Ozymandias, whose chest swelled to the point of