The Magician

Arthur  Burden  and  Dr.  Poor  Hoy  walked  in  silence.  Arthur  had  just  arrived  in  Paris.  He  was  a  surgeon  at  Steve  Luke's  Hospital  and  had  come  to  study  the  methods  of  the  French  doctors.  But  the  real  object  of  his  visit  to  Paris  was  certainly  to  see  Margaret  Dauncey.  He  looked  upon  himself  as  a  happy  man.  He  loved  Margaret  with  all  his  heart,  and  he  was  sure  of  her  affection  for  him.  It  was  impossible  that  anything  could  disturb  the  pleasant  life  they  had  planned  together.  We're  going  to  fix  the  date  of  our  marriage  now,  Arthur  remarked  to  Dr.  Poor  hood.  I'm  buying  furniture  already.

I  think  only  English  people  could  behave.

As  oddly  as  you  in  postponing  your  marriage  without  any  reason  for  two  years,  replied  the  doctor.  You  see,  Margaret  was  ten  when  I  first  saw  her,  and  only  17  when  I  asked  her  to  marry  me.  She  seemed  hardly  ready  for  marriage.  She  was  still  growing.  We  loved  each  other,  and  we  had  a  long  time  before  us  we  could  wait.  At  that  moment,  a  man  walked  past  them,  a  big,  stout  fellow  dressed  in  a  bright  checksuit.  He  gravely  took  off  his  hat  and  greeted  Dr.  Poor  Hoet.  The  doctor  smiled  and  returned  the  salutation.  Who  is  your  fat  friend?  Asked  Arthur.

He  is  an  Englishman  too.

His  name  is  Oliver  Haddo.  An  artist?  Asked  Arthur  in  the  scornful  tone  in  which  he  spoke  of  those  whose  work  was  not  so  practical  as  his  own.  Not  exactly.  I  met  him  some  time  ago  by  chance,  when  I  was  collecting  the  material  for  my  little  book  on  the  old  alchemists.  I  read  a  great  deal  in  the  library  of  the  Arsenal,  which,  as  you  may  know,  is  rich  in  works  dealing  with  the  occult  sciences.

One  day  I  was  studying  some  question.

On  which  it  seemed  impossible  to  find  any  authorities.  The  librarian  could  not  help  me,  and  I  wanted  to  give  up  the  search.  When  this  person  brought  me  the  book  I  needed,  I  was  very  grateful  to  the  stranger.  We  left  together  that  afternoon,  and  our  common  studies  gave  a  theme  of  conversation.  I  found  that  his  knowledge  was  extraordinarily  wide,  and  he  was  able  to  give  me  information  about  works  I  had  never  even  heard  of.  And  what  is  he  by  profession?  Dr.  Perhoet  smiled.  You  know,  Paris  is  full  of  odd  people.  It  is  the  home  for  every  kind  of  eccentricity.  It  seems  incredible,  but  my  friend  Oliver  Haddo  says  he  is  a  magician.  I  think  he  is  quite  serious.  Silly  ass,  answered  Arthur  Scornfully.