Nays were echoed by all four troupe members.
Elbert grasped for one last chance. “I have a good act,” he promised. He started re-creating the rose-from-the-hat trick. The Silk Hatters booed. Flustered, Elbert accidentally dropped the rose. His pet dove escaped from his sleeve to pick it up.
“Still boring,” fake-snored the Levitator.
To top it all off, the Vanisher, a shrewd, tiny man who highly resembled a rat—he even had whiskers on his face—produced a ripe tomato from his pocket and chucked it at the stage. The tomato splattered against Elbert’s head.
Poor Elbert, he could only stand in stunned silence, tomato dribbling down his golden hair, as the troupe members howled with laughter. The Levitator wiped away tears.
“You’ll never be worth anything, boy,” he said, his shoulders shaking from laughing so hard. “Not to worry. Most men aren’t destined for fame.”
“Or women,” added the Mind Reader.
Heartbroken, Elbert left the theater with a pit in his stomach. He sat on the curb the rest of the afternoon, too embarrassed to go home and admit his failure to his parents. His pet dove gently pecked at his hand to cheer him up.
The pit in Elbert’s stomach eventually burned with anger. He kicked his scruffy shoes against the uneven pavement. Who did the Silk Hatters think they were? He would show them.
That evening, with stale tomato bits in his hair, he roamed aimlessly down the streets until he noticed a clockmaker’s shop not far from the busy marketplace. As he stared through its windows at the steadily rotating hands of the pocket watches and the rhythmic, back-and-forth pendulum of a grandfather clock, an idea popped in his head.
He ventured into the shop. He was greeted by the soft tick-tocking of the numerous timepieces that lined the dimly lit shelves, as well as the gentle aroma of lavender. Clocks of all shapes and sizes surrounded him—long clocks in handsome dark wood, mantel clocks with enamel faces, brass and silver pocket watches, wristwatches. It was clear the clockmaker took great care in his handiwork. Each wooden item was delicately carved and free from even a speck of dust. Their fine details shone in the soft glow of dozens of green-and-white-striped candles that sat in sconces mounted along the walls. Elbert realized these candles were responsible for the lavender smell.
The clockmaker sat behind the desk in the corner, examining a wristwatch through a magnifying lens. He was an ancient man, with tufts of feathery white hair and a weathered face. The clockmaker peered up at Elbert and asked in a soft voice, “May I help you?”
Elbert replied he was looking for the best pendulum money could buy, though he kept his lips sealed about the pitiful amount of money he actually had in his pockets. He told the clockmaker he wanted something that could “hypnotize and wow an audience.”
The clockmaker seemed to ponder Elbert’s request, his eyes slowly sweeping over the magician as if reading him. At long last, he nodded, dusted off his hands on his sweater vest, and introduced himself as Santiago. If the old man noticed the tomato drippings in Elbert’s hair, he made no mention of it. Santiago moved slowly and talked slowly, but Elbert could tell each step and every word was carried out with a sense of purpose.
Santiago led Elbert to his collection of clock parts. There were silver chains, tiny bells, dials, windup keys, and pendulums.
“I believe this will suit your needs,” the clockmaker said, showing Elbert a sleek black case.
Inside the case lay a fat, golden pendulum, its thin chain nested snugly in the velvet cushion. Elbert immediately felt himself drawn to the pendulum, as if it were a magnet. He touched the gold. It was solid, but not flashy. It had an irresistible appeal.
“I obtained this long ago from a fellow clockmaker,” said Santiago with a smile. “I daresay he did not know its true value, though that’s not necessarily a great loss. I don’t have much use for it, myself.”
“How do you know for sure it can hypnotize people?” asked Elbert.
“Look at yourself. You’re entranced by the gold, yes?”
True. Elbert asked for the price. It was far beyond what he could afford.
“Come now, cheer up,” Santiago said gently, upon seeing Elbert’s dejected look. “Tell you what, I’ll lend you the pendulum. All I ask in return is that you help out in my shop every evening until your debt is paid, and it will be yours to keep.”
“Truly, sir?” whispered Elbert.
The clockmaker placed the pendulum around Elbert’s neck and gave him a steady smile. “Life goes round and round like a clock, my friend, but our individual roles in the cycle are brief. What good is our precious time if we don’t use it to help each other out?”
Thanks to the clockmaker’s golden pendulum, Elbert’s magic acts improved tenfold. Within three months, he had risen among the ranks of the magician world as a promising hypnotist. He went from performing in the streets to performing in taverns and shops, until finally he was performing on stages in crowded theaters.
Word quickly spread about “Elbert the Excellent” across the city. Journalists and crowds swarmed around the magician after each show with questions. Soon, people all up and down the East Coast had learned of Elbert and his magnificent ability to make a person do anything on command.
Skeptics also speculated about the logic behind the magic act.
“Humans are simply attracted to the pendulum’s gold finish,” explained a stodgy professor in a lecture to his students. “The magic itself is not real. They just see the gold and become mesmerized like fools.”
Real magic or not, Elbert became wildly successful. So successful, in fact, that the Silk Hatters approached him a few months later. They again had another open spot in their troupe, because the Levitator had accidentally fallen thirty feet during a performance and broken his leg in two places. The remaining members of the Silk Hatters told Elbert they’d be happy to welcome him to the group.
To which Elbert
