Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Own Company; Or, Barnstorming in the Middle West онлайн

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He finished with another laugh, and a light began to dawn on Thaddeus Burnham.

"You rascal!" exclaimed the vexed manager, flushing as he realized he had been fooled. "You are responsible for all this! The dog and cat——"

"Ventriloquism," admitted Frank

"The money——"

"Sleight of hand."

"Why should you——"

"Wanted to show you what I can do. Those are little things. I assure you that I believe I can entertain an audience for an hour and thirty minutes and send every person away satisfied. I have studied magic, and, with Zolverein's apparatus, I can do many things of interest. Give me a chance to try it."

"But the apparatus—you have no right to touch it."

"On the contrary, it belongs to me now."

"Belongs to you—how?"

"It was given me by Zolverein before he died. That was why he sent for me. He gave it to me because he was grateful for what I did for him in keeping him from falling beneath the wheels of the train."

Burnham looked doubtful.

"I have two witnesses that he gave me all his apparatus," said Merry. "They are Drs. Harte and Gray. Both heard him give the stuff to me. Let me look it over, give me twenty minutes' time, and, with the aid of his assistant, who is waiting on the stage, I will give a performance that will please and satisfy the audience."