Speaking of his experiences as stage helper, or _chela_, to the so-called Fakir of Ava, he says (_Independent_, May 28, 1903): “The ‘face’ of many a prestidigitateur has been saved and his defeat turned into a glorious victory by the merest chance. One of my first adventures with the Fakir of Ava affords a capital {242} illustration. We were doing the watch trick—taking a timepiece from some one in the audience, passing it upon the stage in a platter, destroying both platter and timepiece in plain view of the spectators, loading the fragments into a pistol, firing the weapon at a target and bringing the watch—whole and sound—to life again upon the face of the mark, in plain sight of the audience. But on that particular day the target concluded not to do its share of the performance. No watch would it produce; the machinery was out of order. We had to work hard to ‘save face.’ “Disguised as an usher of the house, I went down into the audience with the timepiece, hoping to be able to slip it unobserved into the pocket of the owner. He was sitting at a distance from the aisle; I found it impossible. I did the next best thing—slipped the watch into the waistcoat pocket of the man who sat next to the aisle on the same row with the owner. Then I returned to the stage. “The Fakir in the meantime was discussing learnedly upon some other subject. When I returned, the question of the whereabouts of the watch was called up and a bell on the stage was summoned to answer questions; one ring for ‘yes,’ two for ‘no.’ “ ‘Is the watch on the stage?’ “ ‘No,’ replied the obedient bell. “ ‘Is it in the audience?’ “ ‘Yes.’ “ ‘Is it on the first row?’ “ ‘No.’ “ ‘The second—the third, the fourth, the fifth?’ “To each question came a ‘no.’ “ ‘Is it on the sixth row?’ “ ‘Yes.’ “ ‘Is it the first man on the row?’ “ ‘Yes.’ “The eyes of the audience focused upon the unfortunate occupant of the seat. “ ‘Look in your pocket, sir,’ said the Fakir of Ava, in his politest, most persuasive tones. {243} “ ‘Go on with your show there and let me alone,’ shouted the enraged seat holder. “ ‘But I pray you, look in your pocket,’ said the Fakir. “The man obeyed and produced the watch. The trick, called in stage vernacular a ‘life saver,’ made a hit vastly more impressive than the one originally planned but spoiled by the perverseness of the target.” [Illustration: FIG. 1.—THE CELEBRATED “LEVITATION” MYSTERY.] Kellar’s greatest and most sensational illusion is his “levitation”—raising a person and leaving him suspended in mid-air without any apparent means of support, seemingly defying the law of gravitation. An explanation of this surprising feat is thus described by a writer in the _Strand Magazine_ (London):