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Catweazle lifted his rod and swung a splendid
roach on to the bank while Vadanti stared at him in amazement. Catweazle smiled
complacently.
    ‘How
did you do that one?’ said the conjuror, convinced it was a trick.
    ‘Magic,’
said Catweazle.
    Vadanti
laughed again. The old man knew his stuff, there was no doubt about it. ‘Care
to come back for a cuppa,’ he said, ‘I’ve a new vanishing box might interest
you.’
    Catweazle
nodded. Mayhap this magician could lead him to the Signs!
    Vadanti
ran a little joke and magic shop in Elderford. As it was early closing day, his
wife had gone round to the local social club for the afternoon. ‘Bingo!’
explained Vadanti.
    ‘Schempamporasch!’
said Catweazle, determined not to be outdone.
    The
back parlour was piled with masks, funny noses, rubber spiders and all sorts of
jokes in little grey cardboard boxes. The table was littered with collapsible
birdcages, trick swords, rings and packs of cards. There were bottles with
false bottoms for hiding wine glasses underneath, gaily coloured boxes covered
with silver stars, and long cardboard tubes stuffed with the flags of all the
nations.
    Catweazle
was delighted. Here at last was a real magician. He picked up some trick rings
and examined them.
    ‘Sell a
lot of those,’ said Vadanti. ‘No skill required. Takes about a month to master
it.’ He winked at Catweazle. ‘And I make a lot of money out of stink bombs,
especially at the end of term.’
    He
picked up a sword, swished it through the air, and an orange appeared on the
point. He handed the orange to Catweazle who took the strange fruit from him
and sniffed it cautiously.
    Just
then Vadanti found his wife’s note by the telephone. ‘I’ve got a children’s
party at four. I’d better get changed,’ he said.
    He
began packing tricks into a suitcase.
    ‘Changed!’
said Catweazle, rather worried, ‘into what?’
    ‘Well I
can’t work like this, can I? I wouldn’t feel right without tails.’
    ‘Tails!’
gasped Catweazle.
    Vadanti
pressed a little button on the top of a large box and the lid slid open
silently. He went outside and returned with a little white rabbit which he put
gently into the box. There were holes all around it so that the rabbit could
breathe, and it settled down quite comfortably inside.
    ‘There
you are, Percy,’ said Vadanti, tapping the box. He turned to Catweazle. ‘Kids
love rabbits. Always go well. I once had a rabbit for my birthday and I’ve
never forgotten it. It was the only present I really wanted. Shan’t be long.’
He dashed away up the stairs.
    While
Vadanti was changing Catweazle pressed the button and took Percy from the box
leaving a bunch of bananas in his place. Then he tucked Percy under his robe.
‘The only present I really wanted’, he muttered, thinking Owlface might also
like a rabbit for his birthday.
    Vadanti
returned a few minutes later wearing a little beard, evening dress and a
red-lined opera cloak.
    ‘Who
art thou?’ asked Catweazle.
    ‘Presenting
Vadanti, man of magic and mystery,’ said the conjuror, bowing low before
Catweazle.
    Catweazle
helped Vadanti put his stuff into the car and watched him out of sight. Then he
went back to Duck Halt, where he put the rabbit in a battered cardboard box
which he tied up with string, then balanced him on the handlebars of his
tricycle and set off for Kings Farthing.
    Vadanti
had already arrived. Lady Collingford met him at the door. She was wearing a
paper hat at a rakish angle and looking rather desperate. The noise from the party
was deafening.
    ‘Thank
heavens!’ she said shakily. ‘Do come in, Mr Vadanti. They’re all eating at the
moment, so you’ll be able to get ready in peace.’
    She led
him into the drawing-room. ‘If there’s anything you want, don’t hesitate to
ask.’ She left him to unpack.
    It took
him quite a while to prepare the show. He put Percy’s special box underneath a
well-camouflaged hole in his trick table, and he was