that had Gibbs for its name and Notting Hill for its background.
Edward, the eldest son, was a clerk in the city, who spent his
evenings in the practice of amateur conjuring. He was a freckled
youth, with hair that bristled in places where it should have lain
smooth, and he fell in love with Zuleika duly, at first sight, during
high-tea. In the course of the evening, he sought to win her
admiration by a display of all his tricks. These were familiar to this
household, and the children had been sent to bed, the mother was
dozing, long before the seance was at an end. But Miss Dobson,
unaccustomed to any gaieties, sat fascinated by the young man's
sleight of hand, marvelling that a top-hat could hold so many
goldfish, and a handkerchief turn so swiftly into a silver florin. All
that night, she lay wide awake, haunted by the miracles he had
wrought. Next evening, when she asked him to repeat them, "Nay," he
whispered, "I cannot bear to deceive the girl I love. Permit me to
explain the tricks." So he explained them. His eyes sought hers across
the bowl of gold-fish, his fingers trembled as he taught her to
manipulate the magic canister. One by one, she mastered the paltry
secrets. Her respect for him waned with every revelation. He
complimented her on her skill. "I could not do it more neatly myself!"
he said. "Oh, dear Miss Dobson, will you but accept my hand, all these
things shall be yours--the cards, the canister, the goldfish, the
demon egg-cup--all yours!" Zuleika, with ravishing coyness, answered
that if he would give her them now, she would "think it over." The
swain consented, and at bed-time she retired with the gift under her
arm. In the light of her bedroom candle Marguerite hung not in greater
ecstasy over the jewel-casket than hung Zuleika over the box of
tricks. She clasped her hands over the tremendous possibilities it
held for her--manumission from her bondage, wealth, fame, power.
Stealthily, so soon as the house slumbered, she packed her small