Stranger in a Strange Land

Regrettably (since it might have turned many sinners into seekers of the light) much of this sacred history had to be covered up, the amount depending on the local lawmen. But she could show it in closed Happiness meetings of the local churches she attended, if the shepherd wanted her to, which he almost always did. But, while it was always good to add to Happiness, the saved did not need it; Patricia would rather have saved sinners. She couldn’t preach, she couldn’t sing, and she had never been called to speak in tongues but she was a living witness to the light.

In the ten-in-one, her act came next to last, just before the magician; this gave her time to put away unsold photographs of herself (a quarter for black & white, half a dollar in color, a set of special photographs for five dollars in a sealed envelope sold only to marks who signed a printed form alleging that they were doctors of medicine, psychology, sociology, or other such entitled to professional material not available to the general public—and such was Patricia’s integrity that she would not sell these even for ten dollars if the mark did not look the part; she would then ask to see his business card—no dirty dollars were going to put her kids through school—and also gave her time to slip behind the rear canvas and get herself and her snakes ready for the blow-off.

The magician, Dr. Apollo, performed on the last platform nearest to the canvas fly leading to the blow-off. He started by passing out to his audience a dozen shiny steel rings, each as wide as a plate; he invited them to convince themselves that each ring was solid and smooth. Then he had them hold the rings so that they overlapped. Dr. Apollo walked along the platform, reached out with his wand and tapped each overlap—the solid steel links formed a chain.

Casually he laid his wand in the air, rolled up his sleeves, accepted a bowl of eggs from his assistant, and started to juggle half a dozen of them. His juggling did not attract too many eyes; his assistant was more worthy of stares. She was a fine example of modern functional design and, while she wore a great deal more than did the young ladies in the posing show, nevertheless there seemed to be a strong probability that she was not tattooed anywhere. The marks hardly noticed it when the six eggs became five, then four three, two—until at last Dr. Apollo was tossing one egg in the air, with his sleeves still rolled up and a puzzled look on his face. At last he said, “Eggs are getting scarcer every year,” and tossed the remaining egg over the heads of those nearest the platform to a man in the back of the crowd. “Catch!”

He turned away and did not seem to notice that the egg never reached its destination.

Dr. Apollo performed several other tricks, while wearing always the same slightly puzzled expression and with the same indifferent patter. Once he called a young boy close to the platform. “Son, I can tell you what you are thinking. You think I’m not a real magician. And you’re right. For that you win a dollar.” He handed the kid a dollar bill. It disappeared.

The magician looked unhappy. “Dropped it? Well, hang on to this one.” A second bill disappeared.

“Oh, dear. Well, we’ll have to give you one more chance. Use both hands. Got it? All right, better get out of here fast with it—YOU should be home in bed anyhow.” The kid dashed away with the money and the magician turned back and again looked puzzled. “Madame Merlin, what should we do now?”

His pretty assistant came up to him, pulled his head down by one ear, whispered into it. He shook his head. “No, not in front of all these people.”

She whispered again; he looked distressed. “I’m sorry, friends, but Madame Merlin insists that she wants to go to bed. Will any of you gentlemen help her?”

He blinked at the rush of volunteers—“Oh, just two of you. Were any of you gentlemen in the Army?”

There were still more than enough volunteers. Dr. Apollo picked two and said, “There’s an army cot under the end of the platforms just lift up the canvasflow, will you set it up for her here on the platform? Madame Merlin, face this way, please.”

While the two men set up the cot, Dr. Apollo made passes in the air at his assistant. “Sleep… sleep… you are now asleep. Friends, she is in a deep trance. Will you two gentlemen who so kindly prepared her bed now place her on it? One take her head, one take her feet. Careful, now—“ In corpse-like rigidity the girl was transferred to the cot.