Эрл Гарднер - The Amazing Adventures of Lester Leith

Half an hour later, Katiska Shogiro dropped casually into the deck chair next to Lester Leith’s. After a moment, he said in his very polite manner, “Excussse pleassse, but would it be interrupting your honorable meditations unduly if I humbly ask for match?”

“Not in the least,” Leith said, and handed over a packet of matches.

Shogiro lit his cigarette. “Passengers,” he said conversationally, “have explain that very skillful magician is aboard contained in person of honorable you. Is possible perhaps that attentive student may look forward to exhibition tonight?”

Leith said, “I would hardly commend my amateurish attempts to the observation of an interested student. You know something of sleight of hand?”

Shogiro laughed. “Only very small ability,” he said, “but large interest.”

Leith said, “The idea of magic is to furnish entertainment. To a student of the art, the tricks will prove very transparent. I trust that you will remember that explanation destroys the mystery.”

“Oh, quite,” Shogiro said.

“I trust that I can count upon your silent cooperation?”

“Even clam,” Shogiro explained, “is like parrot compared with Japanese contemplation of magic performed by good friend who gives matches to humble and unworthy student.”

Lester Leith’s face showed relief.

“You are perhaps of long-time proficiency?” Shogiro asked.

“No,” Leith said. “My performance makes up in equipment that which it lacks in skill.”

“Equipment?” Shogiro asked.

“Equipment for misdirecting attention,” Leith said. “As a student, you will realize that the success of all magic lies in misdirecting the attention of the observer.”

“Oh, quite,” Shogiro said.

“Therefore,” Leith said, “I have sought to avail myself of the greatest attention distracter known to science.”

“Referring to which?”

“The pulchritude of feminine curves,” Leith said. “Miss Sanders has consented to act as my accomplice.”

“Very estimable distraction,” Shogiro said.

“I trust it will prove quite sufficient.”

“Confidence indeed is not misplaced,” Shogiro remarked, arising abruptly from the chair. “And now humble student begs permission to retire and leave honorable master in contemplation of mystifying trickery to be performed in evening. Thanking you very much.”

“Not at all,” Leith said, and Shogiro walked rapidly down the deck, his manner that of a man who is embarking upon a very definite mission.

Entertainment that night was in the hands of the passengers who contributed various forms of diversion. A dance team headed for Australia put on a tap dance, an artistic waltz, and a variation of the rumba. A poetess whose work had been published in some of the national magazines recited her favorite poem. A pianist played a selection from the classics, followed by some comedy jazz and a ragtime interpretation of one of the more familiar tunes of the Gay Nineties.

Beaver slipped through a rear door and took a seat in the back of the social hall. A moment later he signaled, and Sergeant Ackley, making himself as inconspicuous as possible, slipped into the adjoining chair and slumped down so as to make himself less noticeable. “Watch him, Beaver,” he whispered. “He’s going to pull something with this sleight-of-hand business.”

Up in the front row, Mah Foy was separated only by two chairs from Katiska Shogiro, who sat perfectly still, a smile of fixed politeness frozen on his face.

A couple of stewards started bringing in various pieces of equipment. The purser, who acted as master of ceremonies, said, “We have with us tonight a man who can do tricks that would make masters envious. These are no ordinary sleight-of-hand tricks. These optical illusions represent the latest achievements of science. It gives me great pleasure to introduce Mr. Lester Leith.”

Leith came forward and bowed. There was polite applause.

He said, “May I have your indulgence for a moment, please?” and walked down to where Mah Foy was seated.

“Shortly after the performance starts,” he whispered in the ear of the Chinese girl, “a man who was at that dinner is going to get up and leave the room. I want you to follow him and later tell me where he goes and what he does.”

Mah Foy nodded.

Leith stepped back to the lighted circle and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, let me present my assistant, Miss Ora Sanders.”

Ora, attired in a robe which covered her from neck to ankles, came forward and bowed. There was polite applause. She slipped off the robe and stood before the audience, garbed in black and white; a low-cut black blouse with white trimmings, a very short black skirt, a small white lace apron, and high black stockings.

The applause hesitated for a moment, then burst out anew. When the applause had subsided, Lester Leith said, “I’m going to ask your indulgence, ladies and gentlemen. Despite the comments of the purser, I feel that my performance may fall far short of his glowing description. However, I will do my best.”

The purser said, “What’s the idea of the apology? You told me this afternoon you were the best in the west.”

There was a roar of laughter.

Leith said, “A man always exaggerates his qualifications to get the job. No hard feelings.”

He advanced and shook hands with the purser. Suddenly he said, “Wait a minute. You don’t want this,” and took an egg from the purser’s side coat pocket. “And what’s this? Tut, tut. You shouldn’t be carrying a black widow spider around on your sleeve!”

With a startled exclamation the purser jumped back and brushed at his arm. The spider dropped to the floor and lay with its rubber legs quivering.

Leith said, “Tut, tut. Having killed my pet, you should at least give him a decent burial. Here, take this little casket. Put him in that.”

He handed the purser a small box. The purser bent forward, and Leith signaled to Ora Sanders, who handed him a loaded slapstick.

Just as the purser picked up the spider, the slapstick connected with that portion of his trousers which stretched tight in the stooping process. The impact set off the blank cartridge which had been imbedded in the slapstick, and the purser’s reactions were all that the gleeful audience could have anticipated.

When the discomfited purser had retired, Leith nodded to Ora Sanders. She brought forward a table, and, opening a box, took out a goldfish bowl, in which the audience could plainly see goldfish swimming around.

Leith looked around the audience, then singled out Silman Shore. “Mr. Shore,” he called.

“What is it?”

“You’re an expert hunter, I believe?”

“Yes.”

“Can you describe to the audience what you see in this bowl?”

“Goldfish,” Shore said.

Leith said, “Tut, tut. You need to have your eyes examined.” He reached in the goldfish bowl and pulled out a live, kicking rabbit, and, thereafter, while the audience applauded, he took out object after object from the bowl which apparently contained only live goldfish swimming about in water.

“Thank you, Mr. Shore,” Leith said, “for your cooperation. After all, you know, it adds to our amusement when we see our fellow travelers taking part. Mr. Shogiro, might I ask you to step forward please.”

“It is pleasure,” Shogiro said.

Leith said, “I noticed that you seemed rather hungry in the dining room tonight. Apparently, you’re a man with a large appetite... Ah, yes, I thought so. Turn around please.”

Shogiro turned around, and Lester Leith reached down the back of his coat to pull out a bunch of celery which he held up to the audience, then tossed to Ora Sanders.

“Now wait a minute,” he said as Shogiro, smiling politely, started back toward his seat. “What’s that you have in your pocket?”