The young wizard had now gotten the real watch just where he wanted it, on the plant, where he could “produce” it whenever he wanted to. But the trick was not yet finished. Joe ground away with the poker at the pieces of the cheap watch already in the pestle. He then showed the pieces to the audience, poured them out on the paper bag, where the pieces of glass already were. The whole was then wadded up, put into the trick pistol, and the rest was a mere matter of detail. Joe walked over, picked up the pot, pulled the plant up by the roots, the watch of course seeming to have been down in the dirt. And, naturally, the watch was not in the least damaged, though it seemed to have gone through all sorts of misfortunes.
The real secret of the trick, aside from the sleight-of-hand work necessary, lay in the prepared paper bag and the mortar and pestle, which were made for just such mystification as this.
“It went very well, Joe,” said the professor, at the conclusion of the performance. “That little piece of ribbon added to it.” For Joe had thought to put into the pistol a bit of ribbon such as that by which the watch was suspended. Otherwise he could not have accounted for the piece on the ring of the watch.
“Do you think they liked it?” Joe asked.
“I’m sure they did. You may do that trick at each place where we perform. And if you can work up any new ones, do so.”
“I will!” promised Joe, much delighted with his progress.
Inventing new tricks is not as easy as might be supposed, and for the next few days Joe suggested feats to Professor Rosello only to have them refused as not being effective enough or as too old. But Joe was not discouraged.
At a performance one night in the town of Cardiff, Joe had occasion to walk down among the audience to exhibit some pieces of apparatus, to show that there was nothing concealed about it. As he passed one row of seats he was surprised to hear a boyish voice say:
“Hello, Joe!”
He looked around and saw Harry Martin, one of his chums from Bedford.