The Lock and Key Library: The Most Interesting Stories of All Nations: Real Life
Science
The Lock and Key Library: The Most Interesting Stories of All Nations: Real Life
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction; Parapsychology
The Arab watched all these movements, for his honor was at stake.
We went through the same process with the second pistol and the
solemn moment arrived.
Solemn, indeed, it seemed to everybody--to the spectators who were
uncertain of the issue, to Madame Houdin, who had in vain besought
me to give up this trick, for she feared the result--and solemn
also to me, for as my new trick did not depend on any of the
arrangements made at Algiers, I feared an error, an act of
treachery--I knew not what.
Still I posted myself at fifteen paces from the sheik, without
evincing the slightest emotion.
The Marabout immediately seized one of the pistols, and, on my
giving the signal, took a deliberate aim at me. The pistol went
off, and the ball appeared between my teeth.
More angry than ever, my rival tried to seize the other pistol, but
I succeeded in reaching it before him.
"You could not injure me," I said to him, "but you shall now see
that my aim is more dangerous than yours. Look at that wall."
I pulled the trigger, and on the newly whitewashed wall appeared a
large patch of blood, exactly at the spot where I had aimed.
The Marabout went up to it, dipped his finger in the blood, and,
raising it to his mouth, convinced himself of the reality. When he
acquired this certainty, his arms fell, and his head was bowed on
his chest, as if he were annihilated.
It was evident that for the moment he doubted everything, even the
Prophet.
The spectators raised their eyes to heaven, muttered prayers, and
regarded me with a species of terror.
This scene was a triumphant termination to my performance. I
therefore retired, leaving the audience under the impression I had
produced. We took leave of Bou-Allem and his son, and set off at a
gallop.
The trick I have just described, though so curious, is easily
prepared. I will give a description of it, while explaining the
trouble it took me.
As soon as I was alone in my room, I took out of my pistol case--
without which I never travel--a bullet mold.
I took a card, bent up the four edges, and thus made a sort of
trough, in which I placed a piece of wax taken from one of the
candles. When it was melted, I mixed with it a little lampblack I
had obtained by putting the blade of a knife over the candle, and
then ran this composition in the bullet mold.
Had I allowed the liquid to get quite cold, the ball would have
been full and solid; but in about ten seconds I turned the mold
over, and the portions of the wax not yet set ran out, leaving a
hollow ball in the mold. This operation is the same as that used
in making tapers, the thickness of the outside depending on the
time the liquid has been left in the mold.
I wanted a second ball, which I made rather more solid than the
other; and this I filled with blood, and covered the orifice with a
lump of wax. An Irishman had once taught me the way to draw blood
from the thumb without feeling any pain, and I employed it on this
occasion to fill my bullet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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