When this had been done, I begged the king to take three of the cards at hazard, and choose from them the place he might consider most suitable.
“Let us see,” Louis Philippe said, “what this one says: ‘I desire the handkerchiefs to be found beneath one of the candelabra on the mantelpiece.’ That is too easy for a sorcerer; so we will pass to the next card: ‘The handkerchiefs are to be transported to the dome of the Invalides.’ That would suit me, but it is much too far, not for the handkerchiefs, but for us. Ah, ah!” the king added, looking at the last card, “I am afraid, Monsieur Robert-Houdin, I am about to embarrass you. Do you know what this card proposes?”
“Will your majesty deign to inform me?”
“It is desired that you should send the handkerchiefs into the chest of the last orange-tree on the right of the avenue.”
“Only that, sire? Deign to order, and I will obey.”
“Very good, then; I should like to see such a magic act: I, therefore, choose the orange-tree chest.”
The king gave some orders in a low voice, and I directly saw several persons run to the orange-tree, in order to watch it and prevent any fraud.
I was delighted at this precaution, which must add to the effect of my experiment, for the trick was already arranged, and the precaution hence too late.
I had now to send the handkerchiefs on their travels, so I placed them beneath a bell of opaque glass, and, taking my wand, I ordered my invisible travellers to proceed to the spot the king had chosen.
I raised the bell; the little parcel was no longer there, and a white turtle-dove had taken its place.