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until given permission.”
    â€œSome Christmas surprise,” put in a thin lady, ceasing to eat nuts and raisins for the first time since dinner, and nodding brightly as she patted her hair. “I’ve heard of such things before. Sometimes they have someone to call dressed as Santa Claus, and every guest gets a gift.”
    â€œWhen?” said a small, sandy man with a tartan tie, emerging from his nap.
    â€œQuite an idea,” agreed Mr Mullinger.
    â€œConfined to barracks, by Gad,” snapped the colonel fiercely, and reached for the decanter.
    There came a discreet hurricane of fluttering applause from the table across the room. Young Glover had just completed another conjuring trick.
    â€œWhat’s the noise about?” demanded the old colonel, preening his moustache, and vaguely trying to light a match with a cigarette.
    â€œAstoundin’,” remarked a stout commercial traveller. “Dipped a piece of white paper right into a glass of ink? an’ when he pulled the paper out again? it was all black but the ink in the glass had changed to pure water. Makes Maskylion look silly he does; makes Maskylion look silly. Dipped a piece of white paper—”
    ***
    â€œQuite simple,” said young Glover modestly. “You see it was only a glass of clean water with some black silk inside the glass, sticking lightly against the side. When I stuck the paper in the water I drew it out with the black silk on it.”
    There was enthusiastic applause.
    â€œTalking about conjuring,” said Mr Mullinger lightly, “I once heard a chap say that it was possible for him to leave a glass full of water on a table in the room, that he would go out, and when he walked into the room again within a few minutes, the glass would be empty.”
    â€œConfederate in the room,” said the stout dowager excitedly.
    â€œNo, he said not,” said Mr Mullinger. “No one else in the room was to touch the glass at all. All bunk, of course. Quite impossible. I would bet a sovereign it couldn’t be done. Don’t know whether the chap was trying to impress us with psychic stuff or whatever you call it, but—”
    â€œI could do it!”
    ***
    Mr Mullinger stared at Eric Glover’s eager face with surprise.
    â€œYou would leave a glass full of water inside this room, go out, and when you walked in again the glass would be empty. Impossible!”
    â€œYou spoke about a pound bet,” said Mr Glover playfully. “I’ll call you!”
    Mr Mullinger stared in silence. Chairs scraped near in an interested circle.
    â€œThere is a glass here,” said the ancient Mr Warboys, snapping his upper set more tightly into position.
    â€œI shall want that,” snapped the old colonel, irritably removing the other’s fingers from the stem. What about that glass young Glover has been using? Use that, dammit!”
    â€œI’d like to see that glass,” muttered Mr Mullinger. He got up, examined the glass carefully and flicked it ringingly with his fingernail.
    â€œNo false bottom there,” grinned Glover.
    â€œLet’s know where we stand,” grunted the older man. “Do you know what you have undertaken to do?”
    Glover nodded.
    â€œI will go out of this room, leaving that glass full of water. No one else is to touch it; it shall stand on the table in full view of everybody. When I walk in again—which I shall do within five minutes of walking out—the glass will still be on the table BUT EMPTY.”
    â€œImpossible,” declared Mr Mullinger.
    Glover smiled quietly. He filled the glass from a decanter of water and set it on the table, where it stood palely agleam against the dark polish of the oak.
    â€œI know a good way of keeping milk from going sour,” put in the commercial traveller suddenly.
    â€œWhat way?” demanded a sour-looking woman, looking up from a woollen pullover she was committing for a