1
Del just picked up his bag and went straight for the car, the biggest, blackest Lincoln you ever saw…
Wordlessly Del picked up his suitcase and began to walk toward the steps down into the station parking lot. In confusion so great it was almost like pain, Tom watched the smaller boy advancing away from him, and then looked back at the magician. Coleman Collins' icy face flickered a smile at him. I didn't think he'd be so old, Tom thought. He's even older than Mr. Thorpe.
'Say hello to your uncle,' Collins said. Even slightly slurred by alcohol, his voice was resonant and cultured. 'He has waited long enough to hear it.'
Del stopped moving. In the instant of silence after he dropped his case, the insects began their symphony again. 'I know. I'm sorry.' Del half-turned to look at his uncle. 'I am sorry. There was a big accident - a train went off the track… ' Del turned savagely away again, and Tom recognized with astonishment that his friend was either in tears or on the verge of them.
'A big accident. A big big big accident, was it? Not just a teeny-weeny little one? Not just a little spilled coffee, a little bump on the tracks, a little messy commotion? Didn't stain your clothes, all that coffee flying about?'
'It wasn't our train,' Tom said.
The magician focused his icy eyes on Tom - who was relieved to see, way down under all the layers of real and assumed anger, a layer of amusement. 'Ah. The mystery deepens.' He lolled back against the railing. 'Surely one of you two boys can explain why an unrelated accident, all that coffee flying about on some other train, led to my sitting here for most of the day. Is that in your power, Del?'
Del turned and explained. Haltingly, badly, with what looked almost like stage fright - but he was explaining, he was talking to his uncle, and Tom felt the strange tension about them wilting from the air.
When Del was done, his uncle said, 'And did you not see the spot, child? Didn't you sight the site? No visions of blood, or wrecked carriages, of dazed and crippled survivors, eager-beaver reporters, hard-eyed Polizei?' He startled both the boys by laughing. 'No corpses, no - '
'Uncle Cole,' Del said.
The magician glittered at him. 'Yes, dear one?'
'Is Rose Armstrong here this summer?'
Collins pretended to consider the question. 'Rose. Rose Armstrong. Now, I think I heard… was it a sick cousin in Missoula, Montana? Or was that some other Armstrong? Yess. Some dreary Armstrong person, not our little Vermont Rose. Yes, I do think that the girl should be taking part in our exercises. If we can ever get them begun, that is.'
'She is here.'
'She is. The real Rose.'
'Uncle Cole,' Del said. 'I'm sorry we were so late.'
'So it's come to that,' Collins said. 'Oh, dear. Let's have a look at something.' He held out one palm, and a silver dollar appeared between his first and second fingers. He revolved his hand, and the coin had moved to the space between the next two fingers. When he turned the palm back to the boys, the coin had vanished. He showed the back of his hand: not there. But then it was in the other hand, moving itself so quickly between his fingers it seemed to have a life of its own. He tossed the coin in the air and caught it. 'Can you do that yet?'
'Not as fast as you,' Del said.
'Let's get home,' said Coleman Collins.