XXIX.
THE MAGIC SHOP.
I had seen the Magic Shop from afar several times; I had passed it once ortwice, a shop window of alluring little objects, magic balls, magic hens,wonderful cones, ventriloquist dolls, the material of the basket trick,packs of cards that _looked_ all right, and all that sort of thing,but never had I thought of going in until one day, almost without warning,Gip hauled me by my finger right up to the window, and so conductedhimself that there was nothing for it but to take him in. I had notthought the place was there, to tell the truth--a modest-sized frontage inRegent Street, between the picture shop and the place where the chicks runabout just out of patent incubators,--but there it was sure enough. I hadfancied it was down nearer the Circus, or round the corner in OxfordStreet, or even in Holborn; always over the way and a little inaccessibleit had been, with something of the mirage in its position; but here it wasnow quite indisputably, and the fat end of Gip's pointing finger made anoise upon the glass.
"If I was rich," said Gip, dabbing a finger at the Disappearing Egg, "I'dbuy myself that. And that"--which was The Crying Baby, Very Human--"andthat," which was a mystery, and called, so a neat card asserted, "Buy Oneand Astonish Your Friends."
"Anything," said Gip, "will disappear under one of those cones. I haveread about it in a book.
"And there, dadda, is the Vanishing Halfpenny--only they've put it thisway up so's we can't see how it's done."
Gip, dear boy, inherits his mother's breeding, and he did not propose toenter the shop or worry in any way; only, you know, quite unconsciously,he lugged my finger doorward, and he made his interest clear.
"That," he said, and pointed to the Magic Bottle.
"If you had that?" I said; at which promising inquiry he looked up with asudden radiance.
"I could show it to Jessie," he said, thoughtful as ever of others.
"It's less than a hundred days to your birthday, Gibbles," I said, andlaid my hand on the door-handle.
Gip made no answer, but his grip tightened on my finger, and so we cameinto the shop.
It was no common shop this; it was a magic shop, and all the prancingprecedence Gip would have taken in the matter of mere toys was wanting. Heleft the burthen of the conversation to me.
It was a little, narrow shop, not very well lit, and the door-bell pingedagain with a plaintive note as we closed it behind us. For a moment orso we were alone and could glance about us. There was a tiger in_papier-mache_ on the glass case that covered, the low counter--agrave, kind-eyed tiger that waggled his head in a methodical manner; therewere several crystal spheres, a china hand holding magic cards, a stock ofmagic fish-bowls in various sizes, and an immodest magic hat thatshamelessly displayed its springs. On the floor were magic mirrors; one todraw you out long and thin, one to swell your head and vanish your legs,and one to make you short and fat like a draught; and while, we werelaughing at these the shopman, as I suppose, came in.
At any rate, there he was behind the counter--a curious, sallow, dark man,with one ear larger than the other and a chin like the toe-cap of a boot.
"What can we have the pleasure?" he said, spreading his long magic fingerson the glass case; and so with a start we were aware of him.
"I want," I said, "to buy my little boy a few simple tricks."
"Legerdemain?" he asked. "Mechanical? Domestic?"
"Anything amusing?" said I.
"Um!" said the shopman, and scratched his head for a moment as ifthinking. Then, quite distinctly, he drew from his head a glass ball."Something in this way?" he said, and held it out.
The action was unexpected. I had seen the trick done at entertainmentsendless times before--it's part of the common stock of conjurers--but Ihad not expected it here. "That's good," I said, with a laugh.
"Isn't it?" said the shopman.
Gip stretched out his disengaged hand to take this object and found merelya blank palm.
"It's in your pocket," said the shopman, and there it was!
"How much will that be?" I asked.
"We make no charge for glass balls," said the shopman politely. "We getthem"--he picked one out of his elbow as he spoke--"free." He producedanother from the back of his neck, and laid it beside its predecessor onthe counter. Gip regarded his glass ball sagely, then directed a look ofinquiry at the two on the counter, and finally brought his round-eyedscrutiny to the shopman, who smiled. "You may have those two," said theshopman, "and, if you _don't_ mind one from my mouth. _So!_"
Gip counselled me mutely for a moment, and then in a profound silence putaway the four balls, resumed my reassuring finger, and nerved himself forthe next event.
"We get all our smaller tricks in that way," the shopman remarked.
I laughed in the manner of one who subscribes to a jest. "Instead of goingto the wholesale shop," I said. "Of course, it's cheaper."
"In a way," the shopman said. "Though we pay in the end. But not soheavily--as people suppose... Our larger tricks, and our daily provisionsand all the other things we want, we get out of that hat... And you know,sir, if you'll excuse my saying it, there _isn't_ a wholesale shop,not for Genuine Magic goods, sir. I don't know if you noticed ourinscription--the Genuine Magic Shop." He drew a business card from hischeek and handed it to me. "Genuine," he said, with his finger on theword, and added, "There is absolutely no deception, sir."
He seemed to be carrying out the joke pretty thoroughly, I thought.
He turned to Gip with a smile of remarkable affability. "You, you know,are the Right Sort of Boy."
I was surprised at his knowing that, because, in the interests ofdiscipline, we keep it rather a secret even at home; but Gip received itin unflinching silence, keeping a steadfast eye on him.
"It's only the Right Sort of Boy gets through that doorway."
And, as if by way of illustration, there came a rattling at the door, anda squeaking little voice could be faintly heard. "Nyar! I _warn_ 'ago in there, dadda, I WARN 'a go in there. Ny-a-a-ah!" and then theaccents of a downtrodden parent, urging consolations and propitiations."It's locked, Edward," he said.
"But it isn't," said I.
"It is, sir," said the shopman, "always--for that sort of child," and ashe spoke we had a glimpse of the other youngster, a little, white face,pallid from sweet-eating and over-sapid food, and distorted by evilpassions, a ruthless little egotist, pawing at the enchanted pane. "It'sno good, sir," said the shopman, as I moved, with my natural helpfulness,doorward, and presently the spoilt child was carried off howling.
"How do you manage that?" I said, breathing a little more freely.
"Magic!" said the shopman, with a careless wave of the hand, and behold!sparks of coloured fire flew out of his fingers and vanished into theshadows of the shop.
"You were saying," he said, addressing himself to Gip, "before you camein, that you would like one of our 'Buy One and Astonish your Friends'boxes?"
Gip, after a gallant effort, said "Yes."
"It's in your pocket."
And leaning over the counter--he really had an extraordinary long body--this amazing person produced the article in the customary conjurer'smanner. "Paper," he said, and took a sheet out of the empty hat with thesprings; "string," and behold his mouth was a string box, from which hedrew an unending thread, which when he had tied his parcel he bit off--and, it seemed to me, swallowed the ball of string. And then he lit acandle at the nose of one of the ventriloquist's dummies, stuck one of hisfingers (which had become sealing-wax red) into the flame, and so sealedthe parcel. "Then there was the Disappearing Egg," he remarked, andproduced one from within my coat-breast and packed it, and also The CryingBaby, Very Human. I handed each parcel to Gip as it was ready, and heclasped them to his chest.
He said very little, but his eyes were eloquent; the clutch of his armswas eloquent. He was the playground of unspeakable emotions. These, youknow, were _real_ Magics.
Then, with a start, I discovered something moving about in my hat--something soft and jumpy. I whi
pped it off, and a ruffled pigeon--no doubta confederate--dropped out and ran on the counter, and went, I fancy, intoa cardboard box behind the _papier-mache_ tiger.
"Tut, tut!" said the shopman, dexterously relieving, me of my headdress;"careless bird, and--as I live--nesting!"
He shook my hat, and shook out into his extended hand, two or three eggs,a large marble, a watch, about half a dozen of the inevitable glass balls,and then crumpled, crinkled paper, more and more and more, talking all thetime of the way in which people neglect to brush their hats _inside_as well as out--politely, of course, but with a certain personalapplication. "All sorts of things accumulate, sir... Not _you_, ofcourse, in particular... Nearly every customer... Astonishing what theycarry about with them..." The crumpled paper rose and billowed on thecounter more and more and more, until he was nearly hidden from us, untilhe was altogether hidden, and still his voice went on and on. "We none ofus know what the fair semblance of a human being may conceal, Sir. Are weall then no better than brushed exteriors, whited sepulchres-----"
His voice stopped--exactly like when you hit a neighbour's gramophone witha well-aimed brick, the same instant silence--and the rustle of the paperstopped, and everything was still...
"Have you done with my hat?" I said, after an interval.
There was no answer.
I stared at Gip, and Gip stared at me, and there were our distortions inthe magic mirrors, looking very rum, and grave, and quiet...
"I think we'll go now," I said. "Will you tell me how much all this comesto?...
"I say," I said, on a rather louder note, "I want the bill; and my hat,please."
It might have been a sniff from behind the paper pile...
"Let's look behind the counter, Gip," I said. "He's making fun of us."
I led Gip round the head-wagging tiger, and what do you think there wasbehind the counter? No one at all! Only my hat on the floor, and a commonconjurer's lop-eared white rabbit lost in meditation, and looking asstupid and crumpled as only a conjurer's rabbit can do. I resumed my hat,and the rabbit lolloped a lollop or so out of my way.
"Dadda!" said Gip, in a guilty whisper.
"What is it, Gip?" said I.
"I _do_ like this shop, dadda."
"So should I," I said to myself, "if the counter wouldn't suddenly extenditself to shut one off from the door." But I didn't call Gip's attentionto that. "Pussy!" he said, with a hand out to the rabbit as it camelolloping past us; "Pussy, do Gip a magic!" and his eyes followed it as itsqueezed through a door I had certainly not remarked a moment before. Thenthis door opened wider, and the man with one ear larger than the otherappeared again. He was smiling still, but his eye met mine with somethingbetween amusement and defiance. "You'd like to see our showroom, sir," hesaid, with an innocent suavity. Gip tugged my finger forward. I glanced atthe counter and met the shopman's eye again. I was beginning to think themagic just a little too genuine. "We haven't _very_ much time," Isaid. But somehow we were inside the showroom before I could finish that.
"All goods of the same quality," said the shopman, rubbing his flexiblehands together, "and that is the Best. Nothing in the place that isn'tgenuine Magic, and warranted thoroughly rum. Excuse me, sir!"
I felt him pull at something that clung to my coat-sleeve, and then I sawhe held a little, wriggling red demon by the tail--the little creature bitand fought and tried to get at his hand--and in a moment he tossed itcarelessly behind a counter. No doubt the thing was only an image oftwisted indiarubber, but for the moment--! And his gesture was exactlythat of a man who handles some petty biting bit of vermin. I glanced atGip, but Gip was looking at a magic rocking-horse. I was glad he hadn'tseen the thing. "I say," I said, in an undertone, and indicating Gip andthe red demon with my eyes, "you haven't many things like _that_about, have you?"
"None of ours! Probably brought it with you," said the shopman--also in anundertone, and with a more dazzling smile than ever. "Astonishing whatpeople _will_, carry about with them unawares!" And then to Gip, "Doyou see anything you fancy here?"
There were many things that Gip fancied there.
He turned to this astonishing tradesman with mingled confidence andrespect. "Is that a Magic Sword?" he said.
"A Magic Toy Sword. It neither bends, breaks, nor cuts the fingers. Itrenders the bearer invincible in battle against any one under eighteen.Half a crown to seven and sixpence, according to size. These panoplies oncards are for juvenile knights-errant and very useful--shield of safety,sandals of swiftness, helmet of invisibility."
"Oh, dadda!" gasped Gip.
I tried to find out what they cost, but the shopman did not heed me.He had got Gip now; he had got him away from my finger; he had embarkedupon the exposition of all his confounded stock, and nothing was going tostop him. Presently I saw with a qualm of distrust and something very likejealousy that Gip had hold of this person's finger as usually he has holdof mine. No doubt the fellow was interesting, I thought, and had aninterestingly faked lot of stuff, really _good_ faked stuff,still----
I wandered after them, saying very little, but keeping an eye on thisprestidigital fellow. After all, Gip was enjoying it. And no doubt whenthe time came to go we should be able to go quite easily.
It was a long, rambling place, that showroom, a gallery broken up bystands and stalls and pillars, with archways leading off to otherdepartments, in which the queerest-looking assistants loafed and stared atone, and with perplexing mirrors and curtains. So perplexing, indeed, werethese that I was presently unable to make out the door by which we hadcome.
The shopman showed Gip magic trains that ran without steam or clockwork,just as you set the signals, and then some very, very valuable boxes ofsoldiers that all came alive directly you took off the lid and said----Imyself haven't a very quick ear, and it was a tongue-twisting sound, butGip--he has his mother's ear--got it in no time. "Bravo!" said theshopman, putting the men back into the box unceremoniously and handing itto Gip. "Now," said the shopman, and in a moment Gip had made them allalive again.
"You'll take that box?" asked the shopman.
"We'll take that box," said I, "unless you charge its full value. In whichcase it would need a Trust Magnate----"
"Dear heart! _No!_" and the shopman swept the little men back again,shut the lid, waved the box in the air, and there it was, in brown paper,tied up and--_with Gip's full name and address on the paper!_
The shopman laughed at my amazement.
"This is the genuine magic," he said. "The real thing."
"It's a little too genuine for my taste," I said again.
After that he fell to showing Gip tricks, odd tricks, and still odder theway they were done. He explained them, he turned them inside out, andthere was the dear little chap nodding his busy bit of a head in thesagest manner.
I did not attend as well as I might. "Hey, presto!" said the MagicShopman, and then would come the clear, small "Hey, presto!" of the boy.But I was distracted by other things. It was being borne in upon me justhow tremendously rum this place was; it was, so to speak, inundated by asense of rumness. There was something a little rum about the fixtureseven, about the ceiling, about the floor, about the casually distributedchairs. I had a queer feeling that whenever I wasn't looking at themstraight they went askew, and moved about, and played a noiselesspuss-in-the-corner behind my back. And the cornice had a serpentine designwith masks--masks altogether too expressive for proper plaster.
Then abruptly my attention was caught by one of the odd-lookingassistants. He was some way off and evidently unaware of my presence--Isaw a sort of three-quarter length of him over a pile of toys and throughan arch--and, you know, he was leaning against a pillar in an idle sort ofway doing the most horrid things with his features! The particular horridthing he did was with his nose. He did it just as though he was idle andwanted to amuse himself. First of all it was a short, blobby nose, andthen suddenly he shot it out like a telescope, and then out it flew andbecame thinner and thinner until it was like a long, red fl
exible whip.Like a thing in a nightmare it was! He flourished it about and flung itforth as a fly-fisher flings his line.
My instant thought was that Gip mustn't see him. I turned about, and therewas Gip quite preoccupied with the shopman, and thinking no evil. Theywere whispering together and looking at me. Gip was standing on a littlestool, and the shopman was holding a sort of big drum in his hand.
"Hide and seek, dadda!" cried Gip. "You're He!"
And before I could do anything to prevent it, the shopman had clapped thebig drum over him.
I saw what was up directly. "Take that off," I cried, "this instant!You'll frighten the boy. Take it off!"
The shopman with the unequal ears did so without a word, and held the bigcylinder towards me to show its emptiness. And the little stool wasvacant! In that instant my boy had utterly disappeared!...
You know, perhaps, that sinister something that comes like a hand out ofthe unseen and grips your heart about. You know it takes your common selfaway and leaves you tense and deliberate, neither slow nor hasty, neitherangry nor afraid. So it was with me.
I came up to this grinning shopman and kicked his stool aside.
"Stop this folly!" I said. "Where is my boy?"
"You see," he said, still displaying the drum's interior, "there is nodeception----"
I put out my hand to grip him, and he eluded me by a dexterous movement. Isnatched again, and he turned from me and pushed open a door to escape."Stop!" I said, and he laughed, receding. I leapt after him--into utterdarkness.
_Thud!_
"Lor' bless my 'eart! I didn't see you coming, sir!"
I was in Regent Street, and I had collided with a decent-looking workingman; and a yard away, perhaps, and looking a little perplexed withhimself, was Gip. There was some sort of apology, and then Gip had turnedand come to me with a bright little smile, as though for a moment he hadmissed me.
And he was carrying four parcels in his arm!
He secured immediate possession of my finger.
For the second I was rather at a loss. I stared round to see the door ofthe Magic Shop, and, behold, it was not there! There was no door, no shop,nothing, only the common pilaster between the shop where they sellpictures and the window with the chicks! ...
I did the only thing possible in that mental tumult; I walked straight tothe kerbstone and held up my umbrella for a cab.
"'Ansoms," said Gip, in a note of culminating exultation.
I helped him in, recalled my address with an effort, and got in also.Something unusual proclaimed itself in my tail-coat pocket, and I felt anddiscovered a glass ball. With a petulant expression I flung it into thestreet.
Gip said nothing.
For a space neither of us spoke.
"Dadda!" said Gip, at last, "that _was_ a proper shop!"
I came round with that to the problem of just how the whole thing hadseemed to him. He looked completely undamaged--so far, good; he wasneither scared nor unhinged, he was simply tremendously satisfied with theafternoon's entertainment, and there in his arms were the four parcels.
Confound it! what could be in them?
"Um!" I said. "Little boys can't go to shops like that every day."
He received this with his usual stoicism, and for a moment I was sorry Iwas his father and not his mother, and so couldn't suddenly there,_coram publico,_ in our hansom, kiss him. After all, I thought, thething wasn't so very bad.
But it was only when we opened the parcels that I really began to bereassured. Three of them contained boxes of soldiers, quite ordinary leadsoldiers, but of so good a quality as to make Gip altogether forget thatoriginally these parcels had been Magic Tricks of the only genuine sort,and the fourth contained a kitten, a little living white kitten, inexcellent health and appetite and temper.
I saw this unpacking with a sort of provisional relief. I hung about inthe nursery for quite an unconscionable time...
That happened six months ago. And now I am beginning to believe it isall right. The kitten had only the magic natural to all kittens, andthe soldiers seemed as steady a company as any colonel could desire. AndGip----?
The intelligent parent will understand that I have to go cautiously withGip.
But I went so far as this one day. I said, "How would you like yoursoldiers to come alive, Gip, and march about by themselves?"
"Mine do," said Gip. "I just have to say a word I know before I open thelid."
"Then they march about alone?"
"Oh, _quite_, dadda. I shouldn't like them if they didn't do that."
I displayed no unbecoming surprise, and since then I have taken occasionto drop in upon him once or twice, unannounced, when the soldiers wereabout, but so far I have never discovered them performing in anything likea magical manner...
It's so difficult to tell.
There's also a question of finance. I have an incurable habit of payingbills. I have been up and down Regent Street several times looking forthat shop. I am inclined to think, indeed, that in that matter honour issatisfied, and that, since Gip's name and address are known to them, I mayvery well leave it to these people, whoever they may be, to send in theirbill in their own time.