Miss Shumway Waves A Wand

“That’s okay with me,” I said, shaking his hand. “You don’t have to worry about that. Miss Shumway has an advanced sense of humour. I know you boys can take a joke.”

“There’s too much talk,” Bogle growled. “You ain’t letting this dame get away with this, are you?”

Myra twisted round, “Why can’t you beat it? There’re enough rubbish dumps in this town without you adding to them. Take this big pickle-puss away and haunt houses with him.”

Bogle swelled with fury, “Did you hear what she said?” he demanded turning on Ansell. “I ain’t going to stand for it! I’ll —”

“Wait a minute,” Ansell said, as Bogle made to get to his feet. “Sit down, Sam. We won’t get anywhere like this. Now look, Miss Shumway, if I wanted to, I could hand you over to the police. But that won’t get us anywhere. You and I could be useful to each other.”

“How?”

“You’ve got very clever fingers,” Ansell told her, settling himself comfortably in the basket-chair. “Perhaps you can do other tricks besides—er-—exploring people’s pockets.”

Myra frowned, “What if I can?” she said cautiously.

“Now look, my dear,” Ansell went on, “we can, if we forget our differences, be profitable to each other. On the other hand, if you don’t wish to be helpful, then I must hand you over to the police and work out my problems with Bogle.”

“That should be a problem in itself,” Myra said, looking it Bogle scornfully. “How you’ve got anywhere with that lump of cheese surprises me.”

Bogle closed his eyes. The strain of controlling himself was getting too much for him. “The things I’ll do to you when I get you alone,” he said in a strangled voice.

“Never mind that, Bogle,” Ansell said sharply. “We must stick to the point.” He turned back to Myra, “Please don’t irritate him. Are you going to be helpful or not?”

“Why, of course.” A mischievous gleam had come into her eyes. “You want to know if I can do tricks? Well, I think I could give you a little demonstration.” She looked at me, then at Bogle. “Ah! Now if Samuel will help me, I think I’ll— yes, the very thing!” She reached across the table and plucked a length of pink ribbon from one of Bogle’s ears. She pulled steadily and several yards of ribbon lay on the table before Bogle recovered from his astonishment and jerked away. The ribbon fell in a little pile to the ground and Bogle stared at it in horror.

“Why, Mr. Bogle,” I said, “you didn’t tell me you were that sort of a girl.”

“Did that come from me?” Bogle whispered.

“And to think I said you were empty headed,” Myra said sadly. “Why didn’t you tell me you used your head as a cupboard? I won’t take out the sawdust because your poor head might collapse, but I’m sure you’ll be glad to get rid of this,” and she removed a billiard ball from his other ear.

Bogle shivered and sprang to his feet. He dug his fingers into his ears feverishly.

“It’s all right, Bogle,” Ansell said kindly. “She was only demonstrating a trick. She’s a magician.” He turned to Myra, “I must say that was extremely expert.”

Myra shrugged. “If I had my apparatus here, I’d show you something really good. That’s just kid’s stuff.”

Bogle sat down again.

“Why don’t you two go off somewhere and get to know each other?” I said to Myra. “This fella Bogle’s got a nice face and maybe he just wants conversation. I’ll talk to Doc while you two enjoy yourselves.”

“Enjoy myself? With him?” Myra said, jerking her thumb at Bogle. “I’d rather walk around with a typhoid epidemic.”

I thought she had something there, but I kept my opinion to myself.

“What you need,” Bogle said, leaning across the table, “is a smack in the slats.”

If the slats were where I thought they were, I felt he had something, too.

“Quiet!” Ansell snapped. “We’re wasting too much time.” He looked at Myra severely,

“Young lady, you’re deliberately aggravating him. I warn you, I’m not standing much more of this.”

Myra laughed. “I’ll be good, poppa, honest I will,” she said, and patted his hand. “Now, tell me all about it.”

Ansell looked at her suspiciously. “You seem to forget that you can’t afford to be funny,” he said.

“Aw, skip it, Doc,” I broke in. “Why don’t you say what you want to say and stop nagging the girl?”

Ansell looked a little surprised, “I’m trying to, but there’re so many interruptions.”

I turned on Bogle, “Don’t interrupt the Doctor any more, Bud,” I said. He’s getting tired of it.”

“Yes,” Myra joined in. “Give that big mouth of yours a rest. We’re sick of the sound of your voice.”

Bogle was so surprised that he just sat in a heap, his eyes starting out of his head.

“Okay, Doc,” I said quickly, before Bogle could recover. “The floor’s all yours.”

“Do either of you believe in witchcraft?” Ansell asked.

Myra held up her hand. “I do,” she said. “How else do you explain our Samuel away?” Bogle took off his tie and tried to tear it in half. He was blue in the face with passion. He jerked and pulled at the tie, but it was too strong for him.