under Maskelyne.
(Thomas Elbourne knew my most guarded secret; he had to. But I trusted him; I had to. I
say this as simply as possible, to convey the simplicity of my belief in him. Thomas had
worked with magicians all his life, and nothing any more surprised him. There is little I
know about magic today that I did not learn from him one way or the other. Yet never once,
in all the years I worked with him — he retired several years ago — did he ever explicitly
reveal the secret of another magician to me or to anyone else. To call his trust into
question would be to question my very sanity. Thomas was a Londoner from Tottenham, a
married man without children. He was many years older than me, but I never discovered
exactly how many. At the time Olive Wenscombe began working for me I assume he must have
been in his middle or late sixties.)
I decided to employ Olive Wenscombe almost as soon as she arrived. She was neither tall
nor broad, but had an attractive and slim body. She held her head erect as she walked or
stood, and her face had well-defined features. She was American-born, and had an accent
she identified as East Coast, but had lived and worked in London for several years. I
introduced her as informally as possible to Thomas Elbourne and Georgina Harris, then
asked to see whatever references she might have brought with her. I generally gave
references a great deal of weight when assessing an applicant, because a recommendation
from a magician whose work I knew would almost certainly gain the applicant the job. Olive
had brought two such references with her, one was from a magician working the resort towns
of Sussex and Hampshire, whose name I did not recognize, but the other was from Joseph
Buatier de Kolta, one of the greatest living performers. I was, I admit, impressed. I
quietly passed de Kolta's letter to Thomas Elbourne, and watched his expression.
“How long did you work for Monsieur de Kolta?” I asked her.
“Only for five months,” she said. “I was hired for a tour of Europe, and he let me go at
the end of it.”
“So I see.”
After that, employing her was something of a formality, but even so I felt I had to
subject her to the usual tests. It was for these that Georgina had come along, as it would
not be right to ask any applicant, even one as experienced as Olive Wenscombe, to
demonstrate her abilities without the presence of a chaperone.
“Did you bring a rehearsal costume with you?” I said.
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“Then if you would be so kind—”
A few minutes later, wearing a body-hugging costume, Olive Wenscombe was led by Thomas to
a few of our cabinets, and asked to take up position inside one. The production of a
living, healthy young woman from what appears to be an empty cabinet is one of the
traditional stand-bys of magic. To bring off the effect, the assistant has to insinuate
herself into a concealed compartment, and the smaller this compartment can be the more
surprising the effect of the illusion. Careful choice of a voluminous costume, and one
that is made of bright colours and has glittery ribbons sewn into the fabric, to catch and
reflect the limelight, will enhance the mystery. It was obvious to us all that Olive was
well versed in secret compartments and panels. Thomas took her first to our Palanquin
(which even by that time we rarely used in the act, since the trick had become so well
known), and she knew exactly where the hidden compartment was and promptly climbed into it.
Thomas and I next asked her to essay the illusion known as Vanity Fair, in which a young
woman is apparently made to pass through a solid mirror. This is not a difficult illusion
to perform, but it does require agility and quickness of movement on the part of the girl.
Although Olive said she had not taken part in it before, after we had shown her the
mechanism she showed she
(Thomas Elbourne knew my most guarded secret; he had to. But I trusted him; I had to. I
say this as simply as possible, to convey the simplicity of my belief in him. Thomas had
worked with magicians all his life, and nothing any more surprised him. There is little I
know about magic today that I did not learn from him one way or the other. Yet never once,
in all the years I worked with him — he retired several years ago — did he ever explicitly
reveal the secret of another magician to me or to anyone else. To call his trust into
question would be to question my very sanity. Thomas was a Londoner from Tottenham, a
married man without children. He was many years older than me, but I never discovered
exactly how many. At the time Olive Wenscombe began working for me I assume he must have
been in his middle or late sixties.)
I decided to employ Olive Wenscombe almost as soon as she arrived. She was neither tall
nor broad, but had an attractive and slim body. She held her head erect as she walked or
stood, and her face had well-defined features. She was American-born, and had an accent
she identified as East Coast, but had lived and worked in London for several years. I
introduced her as informally as possible to Thomas Elbourne and Georgina Harris, then
asked to see whatever references she might have brought with her. I generally gave
references a great deal of weight when assessing an applicant, because a recommendation
from a magician whose work I knew would almost certainly gain the applicant the job. Olive
had brought two such references with her, one was from a magician working the resort towns
of Sussex and Hampshire, whose name I did not recognize, but the other was from Joseph
Buatier de Kolta, one of the greatest living performers. I was, I admit, impressed. I
quietly passed de Kolta's letter to Thomas Elbourne, and watched his expression.
“How long did you work for Monsieur de Kolta?” I asked her.
“Only for five months,” she said. “I was hired for a tour of Europe, and he let me go at
the end of it.”
“So I see.”
After that, employing her was something of a formality, but even so I felt I had to
subject her to the usual tests. It was for these that Georgina had come along, as it would
not be right to ask any applicant, even one as experienced as Olive Wenscombe, to
demonstrate her abilities without the presence of a chaperone.
“Did you bring a rehearsal costume with you?” I said.
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“Then if you would be so kind—”
A few minutes later, wearing a body-hugging costume, Olive Wenscombe was led by Thomas to
a few of our cabinets, and asked to take up position inside one. The production of a
living, healthy young woman from what appears to be an empty cabinet is one of the
traditional stand-bys of magic. To bring off the effect, the assistant has to insinuate
herself into a concealed compartment, and the smaller this compartment can be the more
surprising the effect of the illusion. Careful choice of a voluminous costume, and one
that is made of bright colours and has glittery ribbons sewn into the fabric, to catch and
reflect the limelight, will enhance the mystery. It was obvious to us all that Olive was
well versed in secret compartments and panels. Thomas took her first to our Palanquin
(which even by that time we rarely used in the act, since the trick had become so well
known), and she knew exactly where the hidden compartment was and promptly climbed into it.
Thomas and I next asked her to essay the illusion known as Vanity Fair, in which a young
woman is apparently made to pass through a solid mirror. This is not a difficult illusion
to perform, but it does require agility and quickness of movement on the part of the girl.
Although Olive said she had not taken part in it before, after we had shown her the
mechanism she showed she
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