“As I said,” resumed the magician, with a smile, “I am always on the lookout for new effects. This morning, when I was waiting for my train at the station to take me and my effects on to the next town, where I show night after to-morrow, I noticed the fireworks factory. It occurred to me that I might use some simple little piece of fireworks in demonstrating one of my tricks, so, as I had time enough, I went over to the office.
“They had just what I wanted, and the manager took me up to the store room to show me different styles of it. While we were on the second floor there was an explosion in one of the distant buildings. The manager rushed away at once, leaving me there in the factory.
“I realized that the fire was somewhere near me, but I had no idea that it might spread to the building in which I then was. Left to myself, I strolled about, looking at the different pieces of fireworks. I was very much interested. I even went up to the top story, all alone. Those in the factory must have rushed out at the first alarm.
“I realized that there was a fire, but I fairly lost myself in working out the details of a new illusion that came to me while in the factory. I sat down amid the store of pyrotechnics and became involved in thought. Then, before I knew it, I was trapped. I rushed to the opening and must have fainted. The rest you young gentlemen know better than I.”
Joe had received the information he wanted. The explanation was a perfectly natural one. Perhaps, though, no one but a man like Professor Rosello would have sat down in a fireworks factory, with a blaze near him, to work out the details of a trick. But, as he said, he fairly lost himself in a maze of thought, and when he did realize his danger it was almost too late.
“And now, once more, permit me to thank you for saving my life. I can offer you no adequate reward, nor, I imagine, do you want one, Joe Strong.”
Joe shook his head negatively.
“But if ever you are in need of a friend—that is such a friend, with such limited talents as I possess—don’t fail to call on Peter Crabb, otherwise known as Professor Rosello,” he added earnestly. “I am going to travel on to-night,” he resumed. “I shall feel well enough then. I can not get the fireworks I desired, but they will do later.
“As I said, if ever you want a friend, don’t forget me. I may not be able to do much for you, but such as I can do, I will do gladly. I know many men and women in such lines of public life as I, myself, follow, and it may be I can help you to gratify some ambition.”
“I wonder if you could?” asked Joe, boldly. “I have only one ambition—that is at present—and that is, to be what you are.”