Page:Weird Tales Volume 09 Issue 02 (1927-02).djvu/102

 black box you hold an absolute proof of exactly every move my assistant and myself have made? Quite remarkable!"

The Egyptian took the little black box into his hands. Idly curious in manner, he carried it to the nearest light as if to survey it more closely. And, somehow, his foot caught in a rug and he stumbled.

The black box fell with a crash to the floor, and a creamy-white roll of film cascaded profusely from its confines.

"Really," Mohamet Ali gasped, "I must apologize for my clumsiness!" He stooped as though to gather up the film.

"That stuff's no good now!" shouted the cameraman. "The light has ruined it!"

"How terribly awkward of me!" murmured the Egyptian.

Billy Weaver left the group and, facing Mohamet Ali and Jerry Newman, waved two certified checks.

"What'll I do with these, now?" he queried.

Jerry Newman's face was a mask as he bowed to the Egyptian.

"Give them to Mohamet Ali," he said evenly; and presently he was watching a magician, an assistant, one sword—and two certified checks for five thousand dollars each vanishing through the doorway.



