Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 26, No. 4. Whole No. 143, October 1955

Hurley grunted. “Colored silk handkerchiefs by the yard, a couple hundred feet of rope, a bird cage, a dozen billiard balls—”

Merlini picked up one of the balls and hefted it. “These are all solid?”

“Yeah.” Hurley pointed to a small red-lacquered box bearing Chinese characters. “That has a secret compartment, but it’s empty. We took all this stuff and the clothes he’s wearing down to Varick Street and gave them a fluoroscopic examination. That doesn’t spot diamonds too well — they’re nearly transparent to X-rays — but it’ll show cavities in objects that should be solid.”

Inspector Gavigan picked up a book, La Prestidigitation Sans Appareils, and riffled the pages.

“No hollowed-out books,” Hurley said. “We cut his soap into little pieces, squeezed out all his toothpaste and shaving cream, cut open every last pill in half a dozen medicine bottles, took his pen and wrist watch apart. His teeth and eyes are his own.”

“Teeth and eyes?”

“False teeth made to hold gems aren’t too uncommon, and an importer once got past us declaring all his diamonds except the big one inside his glass eye.”

Gavigan looked into the bathroom. “Plumbing?” he asked.

“We took most of it apart; the rest we probed.”

Aldo dealt himself four Aces. “Les flics,” he said, “sont formidables. They miss nothing.”

“And what,” Merlini wanted to know, “was the searching routine on our nimble-fingered friend here?”

“I’ll show you,” Hurley said. “On your feet, wise guy.”

The Cheshire-cat grin that had seemed to be permanently affixed to the magician’s moon-like face vanished abruptly.

“Not the pill again! Ça, je refuse absolument!”

“No. We’ll skip the cathartic this time. But start stripping.”

Pierre Aldo put the deck on the floor, scooped up the Aces, turned them face down, snapped his fingers, then counted the cards face up. There were still four, but the Aces were now Kings. He dropped these on the deck, stood up, removed his coat, and began to unknot his tie.

“I do this now three times. Soon I am good enough for the Folies Bergère. Pierre Aldo — Le Prestidigitateur Nu!”

The glum Customs Agent turned the pockets of the coat inside out, then the sleeves. He felt the lining inch by inch and tossed the garment to Merlini who did the same. The man’s necktie, shirt, undershirt, trousers, shoes, socks and, finally, his shorts got the same painstaking inspection.

“New heels, I see,” Merlini said as he examined the shoes.

“Courtesy of the Customs Service,” Hurley explained. “We replaced the ones we cut up.”

“You also pay for les funérailles,” Aldo asked, “when I die from la pneumonie?”

Hurley threw him his shorts. Aldo, grinning again now, climbed into them.

“Well?” Hurley eyed Merlini without much hope. “What did we miss?”

“I think,” the magician said slowly, “that you saw a little too much. One thing — a small piece of misdirection — made you jump unconsciously to a hasty conclusion.”

Hurley didn’t believe it. “Are you telling me there is a place we haven’t looked?”

“I am. As you said — right under our noses. But first I want to ask a favor. If I’m right, Pierre’s next stop will be a Federal prison. Since I may not see him again very soon, I’d like to show him one trick before he goes.”

Aldo who had picked up his shirt nearly dropped it. “You are a magician?” He wasn’t smiling now.

“I do a little magic,” Merlini said. “I liked that Poker deal of yours, but I can top it. You shuffle, cut, and deal four Bridge hands. I won’t touch the cards at all and yet I’ll get a perfect hand,”

“The Bridge?” Aldo said slowly. “I do not know the Bridge so well.”

“Four players,” Merlini told him. “The complete deck is dealt, and a perfect hand is all the cards of one suit. The odds against getting it by chance are 158,753,389,899 to 1.”

Aldo sat on the floor again, picked up the deck, and began shuffling slowly. He looked thoughtful. “You want to make a little bet on that?”

“Sure,” Merlini said. “At those odds I can bet you between two and three ten-thousandths of a cent against the missing half million in diamonds.”

“I think,” Aldo said, “that you lose.” He dealt rapidly but stopped after four cards had been dealt to each hand, and turned those in front of Merlini face up. “How can you get thirteen cards of one suit when the first four are Aces?”

“You might give me a square deal,” Merlini said. “Suppose I shuffle the cards once first.” He held out his hand.

Aldo wasn’t interested. “Non! The trick is impossible. You are talking through the hat.”

George Hurley suddenly lost patience in a battle of magicians that might even have made hocus-pocus history.

He exploded. “You can play games with this character in his cell! I want to know where this hiding place is you say we missed — and right now!”

A Test of Identity by Michael Innes