Входит в сборник Журнал "Черных вдовцов"
В оригинале. Рассказ The Cross of Lorraine
Emmanuel Rubin did not, as a general rule, ever allow a look of relief to cross his face. Had one done so, it would have argued a prior feeling of uncertainty or apprehension, sensations he might feel but would certainly never admit to.
This time, however, the relief was unmistakable. It was monthly banquet time for the Black Widowers; Rubin was the host, and it was he who was supplying the guest; and here it was about twenty minutes after seven and only now - with but ten minutes left before the banquet was to start - only now did his guest arrive.
Rubin bounded toward him, careful, however, not to spill a drop of his second drink.
"Gentlemen," he said, clutching the arm of the newcomer, "my guest, the Amazing Larri - spelled L - A - R - R - I." And in a lowered voice, over the hum of pleased - to - meet - yous, "Where the hell were you?"
Larri muttered, "The subway train stalled." Then returned smiles and greetings.
"Pardon me," said Henry, the perennial - and nonpareil - waiter at the Black Widower banquets, "but there is not much time for the guest to have his drink before dinner begins. Would you state your preference, sir?"
"A good notion, that," said Larri, gratefully. "Thank you, waiter, and let me have a dry martini, but not too darned dry - a little damp, so to speak."
"Certainly, sir," said Henry.
Rubin said, "I've told you, Larri, that we members all have our ex officio doctorates, so now let me introduce them in nauseating detail. This tall gentleman with the neat mustache, black eyebrows, and straight back is Dr. Geoffrey Avalon. He's a lawyer and he never smiles. The last time he tried, he was fined for contempt of court."
Avalon smiled as broadly as he could and said, "You undoubtedly know Manny well enough, sir, not to take him seriously."
"Undoubtedly," said Larri. As he and Rubin stood together, they looked remarkably alike. Both were of a height - about five feet, five - both had active, inquisitive faces, both had straggly beards, though Larri's was longer and was accompanied by a fringe of hair down either side of his face as well.
Rubin said, "And here, dressed fit to kill anyone with a real taste for clothing, is our scribble expert. Dr. Mario Gonzalo, who will insist on producing a caricature of you in which he will claim to see a resemblance. Dr. Roger Halsted inflicts pain on junior - high students under the guise of teaching them what little he knows of mathematics. Dr. James Drake is a superannuated chemist who once conned someone into granting him a Ph.D. And finally. Dr. Thomas Trumbull, who works for the government in an unnamed job as code expert and who spends most of his time hoping Congress doesn't find out."
"Manny," said Trumbull wearily, "if it were possible to cast a retroactive blackball, I think you could count on five."
And Henry said, "Gentlemen, dinner is served."
It was one of those rare Black Widower occasions when the entree was lobster, rarer now than ever because of the increase in prices.
Rubin, who as host bore the cost, shrugged it off. "I made a good paperback sale last month and we can call this a celebration."
"We can celebrate," said Avalon, "but lobster tends to kill conversation. The cracking of claws and shells, the extraction of meat, the dipping in melted butter, takes one's full concentration."' And he grimaced with the effort he was putting into the compression of the nutcracker.
"In that case," said the Amazing Larri, "I shall have a monopoly on the conversation," and he grinned with satisfaction as a large platter of prime - rib roast was dexterously placed before him by Henry.
"Larri is allergic to seafood," said Rubin.
Conversation was indeed subdued as Avalon had predicted until the various lobsters had been clearly worsted in culinary battle, and then, finally, Halsted asked, "What makes you Amazing, Larri?"
"Stage name," said Larri. "I am a prestidigitator, an escapist extraordinaire, and the greatest living exposeur."
Trumbull, who was sitting to Larri's right, formed ridges on his bronzed forehead. "What the devil do you mean by exposeur?"
Rubin beat a tattoo on his water glass at this point and said, "No grilling till we've had our coffee."
"For God's sake," said Trumbull, "I'm just asking the definition of a word."
"Host's decision is final," said Rubin.
Trumbull scowled blackly in Rubin's direction. "Then I'll guess the answer. An exposeur is one who exposes fakes; people who, using trickery of one sort or another, pretend to produce effects they attribute to supernatural or paranatural forces."
Larri thrust out his lower lip, raised his eyebrows, and nodded his head. "Pretty good for a guess. I couldn't have put it better."
Gonzalo said, "You mean that whatever someone did by what he claimed was real magic, you could do by stage magic."
"Exactly," said Larri. "For instance, suppose that some mystic claimed he had the capacity to bend spoons by means of unknown forces. I can do the same by using natural force, this way." He lifted his spoon and, holding it by its two ends, he bent it half an inch out of true.
Trumbull said, 'That scarcely counts. Anyone can do it that way."
"Ah," said Larri, "but this spoon you saw me bend is not the amazing effect at all. That spoon you were watching merely served to trap and focus the ethereal rays that did the real work. Those rays acted to bend your spoon. Dr. Trumbull."
Trumbull looked down and picked up his spoon, which was bent nearly at right angles. "How did you do this?"
Larri shrugged. "Would you believe ethereal forces?"
Drake laughed and, pushing his dismantled lobster toward the center of the table, lit a cigarette. He said, "Larri did it a few minutes ago, with his hands, when you weren't looking."
Larri seemed unperturbed by exposure. "When Manny banged his glass. Dr. Trumbull, you looked away. I had rather hoped you all would."
Drake said, "I know better than to pay attention to Manny."
"But," said Larri, "if no one had seen me do it, would you have accepted the ethereal forces?"
"Not a chance," said Trumbull.
"Even if there had been no way in which you could explain the effect? Here, let me show you something. Suppose you wanted to flip a coin . . ."
He fell silent for a moment while Henry passed out the strawberry shortcake, pushed his own out of the way, and said, "Suppose you wanted to flip a coin, without actually lifting it and turning it - this penny, for instance. There are a number of ways it could be done. The simplest would lie simply to touch it quickly, because, as you all know, a finger is always slightly sticky, especially so at mealtime, so that the coin lifts up slightly as the finger is removed and can be made to flip over. It is tails now, you see. Touch it again and it is heads."
Gonzalo said, "No prestidigitation there, though. We see it flip."
"Exactly," said Larri, "and that's why I won't do it that way. Let's put something over it so that it can't be touched or flipped. Suppose we use a . . ." He looked about the table for a moment and seized a salt shaker. "Suppose we use this." He placed the salt shaker over the coin and said, "Now it is showing heads? . . ."
"Hold on," said Gonzalo. "How do we know it's showing heads? It could be tails and then, when you reveal it later, you'll say it flipped, when it was tails all along."
"You're perfectly right," said Larri, "and I'm glad you raised the point. Dr. Drake, you've got eyes that caught me before. Would you check this on behalf of the assembled company? I'll lift the salt shaker and you tell me what the coin shows."
Drake looked and said, "Heads!" in his softly hoarse voice.
"You'll all take Dr. Drake's word, I hope, gentlemen? Please, watch me place the salt shaker back on the coin and make sure it doesn't flip in the process. . . ."
"It didn't," said Drake.
"Now to keep my fingers from slipping while performing this trick, I will put this paper napkin over the salt shaker."
Larri molded the paper napkin neatly and carefully over the salt shaker, then said, "But, in manipulating this napkin, I caused you all to divert your attention from the penny and you may think I have flipped it in the process." He lifted the salt shaker with the paper about it and said, "Dr. Drake, will you check the coin again?"
Drake leaned toward it. "Still heads," he said.
Very carefully and gently, Larri put back the salt shaker, the paper napkin still molded about it, and said, 'The coin remained as is?"
"Still heads," said Drake.
"In that case, I now perform the magic." Larri pushed down on the salt shaker, and the paper collapsed. There was nothing inside.
There was a moment of shock, and then Gonzalo said, "Where's the salt shaker?"
"In another plane of existence," said Larri airily.
"But you said you were going to flip the coin."
Avalon said, 'There's no mystery. He had us all concentrating on the coin as a diversion tactic. When he picked up the salt shaker with the napkin around it to let Jim look at the coin, he just dropped the salt shaker into his hand and placed the empty, molded napkin over the coin."
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