"Then these young gentlemen have," the professor went on, turning to the three boys.
Jack nodded silently.
"It is a strange power that we mystics have over the forces of nature," the pretended philosopher went on. "We have but to plant a seed in the soil, and, lo! a plant bearing fruit shoots up."
"That would be a good thing to sell to farmers," said Mr. Post.
"It can not be sold. Only an adept can perform it," said Professor Punjab. "I would do it for you, only the conditions are not just right here. But I can, perhaps, show you something you probably never saw before."
With a flourish he drew from his pocket a large black handkerchief. This he shook to show there was nothing in it. He spread it over his extended left arm, which was crooked at the elbow. Then he placed his right hand under it, and brought out a large orange.
"Well I'll be blowed!" exclaimed Mr. Post.
"Ain't got any more of 'em there, have you, Professor?"
"There is only one," was the reply, as the man returned the handkerchief to his pocket and passed the orange to Mr. Post. "It is difficult to produce one, I assure you."
"Not when you have them concealed in your coat, where you probably put it when you were in the dining car," was Jack's comment, made to himself.