The Burglar
Part 2

by Vaughan

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Jen is a burglar, who has been captured by an elderly magician, Trevor Phillips, with a shotgun. He persuaded her that he would not turn her in to the police or shoot her if she alloweed him to perform some illusions on her.

He has sawn her in two and restored her.

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"So, what's next?" Jen asked.

"Well, that depends," said the retired magician, Mr. Phillips.

"Depends on what?"

"Erm, partly on the costume you have selected and partly on what you
feel like doing."

Jen unzipped the seam in the polythene shroud of the costume she had selected
and caught a black shoe with a two-inch heel as it toppled out. Inspecting the
contents she found the pair of the shoe, several pairs of fishnet tights, a pair
of long red gloves and a strapless red velvet costume that would cover body from
crotch to armpit. "It seems to be a strapless velvet swimsuit sort of
thing," observed Jen.

"Oh good, there's three effects that that particular costume is suited
for. Do you want to know what I have in mind or would you rather it was a
surprise," offered Mr. Phillips.

Jen considered for a moment, whether the terror of anticipation was better or
worse the terror of being victim without knowing what is going to happen. She
came down on the side of knowing what he planned for her. "I think I'd
rather know what you have planned for me," stated Jen uncertainly.

"Ok, get dressed, while I move the stuff to where I want it!"
instructed the aged magician.

Jen found the costume fitted quite well, it pushed up her breasts a bit
enhancing her cleavage and was lightly boned and therefore seemed to reduce her
waist a bit. There was no skirt with the costume, but there were swags of cloth
attached at the hips the covered the groin area, but only just. The gloves also
fitted snugly reaching most of the way up her arms, finishing level with the top
of the body. Jen examined herself again in the mirror and noticed that while she
felt a little exposed, because her shoulders were bare, she looked every inch
the stereotypical magician's assistant from the 1930's and it looked quite
modest.

She looked over the screen to see what Mr. Phillips was doing, he seemed to
have pushed back most of the low boxes and brought out three cabinets. Jen
stepped out from behind the screen.

The old man looked at Jen and complimented her; "You do look good, as if
you've wore costumes like that all your life. Just one minor detail, you are
missing the ribbon around your neck."

"I didn't find a ribbon," stated Jen slightly offended that he was
nit picking.

"Check the corner of the costume bag, you should find a neck ribbon,
choker type thing, and a thing for your hair, but don't bother with the hair
slide, because I've got something else for you to wear on your head."

Jen went back to the bag and found the ribbon and the hair slide. The ribbon
was narrow and fastened around her neck with a hook and eye hidden by a small
bow. She found that it was most comfortable if the bow was locate slightly to
the right of center line of her neck and checking the mirror she thought that it
looked better too.

As Jen re-emerged, she asked, "Is that better?"

"Oh yes, You most definitely look the part. Just a couple more things
then we can start. Over there you'll find a dressing table and wigs. I hope that
the long black one will fit you, use plenty of hair grips, because we don't want
it coming off during any of the illusions, do we?"

Jen moved to the piece of furniture that Mr. Phillips had pointed out and was
amazed by the number of wig-heads ranged along the table, each covered with a
transparent plastic bag. "How come you have so many wigs?" she asked.

"I not sure really, but when I first started doing magic professionally,
magic was part of little playlets so as actors and actresses you needed a
variety of wigs to play all the parts required. As magic went to being an art form
in itself, the audience still expected large companies, but the economics were
turning against it. Thus, wigs and slick costume changes were a way to give the
impression of a larger troupe. Then as smaller troupes became acceptable, I
found that the right hair could enhance the effect of some of the magic I
performed. So I've always had quite a number of wigs about."

Jen had found what she assumed to be the wig the old magician had suggested
she put on; of the three black wigs in the group, it had a lot of hair in a
hairnet at the nape of the wig-head, the other two were short. She removed the
cover and lifted the head, asking, "is this the one?"

"Yes, that's it. Be sure to tuck all you hair in properly, won't
you."

"I suppose so. I'm not used to this kind of stuff; I've never worn a wig
before." Jen set about trying to fit the wig and gather all her brunette
locks beneath it. Once the wig was in place and straight, she fixed it there
with a lot of hairgrips. I felt heavy on her head like a hat, but all over. She
reached behind her neck and removed the hair-net that held the bundled up hair.
She felt the unaccustomed tickle of hair across the back of her shoulders and
wondered how long this wig actually was. Cautiously, because she was not certain
how securely the wig was fixed, Jen turned her head. The wig stayed put and she
felt wisps of hair spilling over her shoulder. Looking in the mirror she found
that hair at its longest reached the small of her back. She moved her head more
suddenly and still the hairpiece remained fixed. She stood up and arranged the
raven cascade so that it flowed down her back. Jen caught a glimpse of herself
in the mirror behind the screen. She noticed that with the backdrop of dark
tresses her exposed shoulders looked even paler. On a whim she twirled on the
spot.

"You seem to have fitted that about right, but it isn't quite
straight," remarked Mr. Phillips. Jen frowned at him. "But very good
for a first time," he added, "and, in fact, it doesn't matter all that
much, because if you look in the third drawer on the left, you should find a
tiara to wear on top; which should also help hold everything in place."

Jen looked in the drawer and found two things that might be called tiaras.
She held them up and asked which the old man had meant. He said they were just
hair-bands and said she should look in drawer above. There she found what she
immediate recognized as a tiara; the headband looked like it was made of silver
and diamonds, but she guessed it was chromed steel and paste. Inside the band
were three small combs that would hold it in place. She sat back down at the
mirror and fiddled with it until she had it on straight. It was heavier than she
expected. She sat a while and admired her reflection and out of habit opened a
few more of the drawers, where she found some makeup. She decided that she would
use some of it.

When she felt ready, Jen turned and asked the magician what he thought.

"Very good, you look every inch the princess, which is appropriate
because the illusion is called the Disembodied Princess. Illusionists who do the
fake version of the illusion I'm planning to do with you usually get there
assistant up in eastern costume; you know the thing; gauzy pants, a skimpy
bikini top, a veil and curly slippers, the works. The trouble with that costume
is it just gets in the way of the real magic."

"What did you say the trick was called?" asked Jen, not sure she
had heard correctly.

"It's called 'The Disembodied Princess' or in more prosaic terms 'The
Girl Without A Middle'," replied the elderly man.

"So you are planning to make my middle disappear, right?" queried
Jen, hoping that she had got it wrong.

"Exactly."

"So, what's with the wig and tiara then? I can't see they have anything
to do with it. Any way, how much of my middle do you intend to vanish?"

"In answer to the first question, my dear, the wig enhances the effect,
but the tiara is just for show, but its presence seems to have improved your
posture quite a bit. And do you mind if I don't answer the second question just
yet?"

Jen thought for a moment, then asked, "will it hurt as much as the
sawing in half did?"

"My wife told me that she particularly liked this effect, because the
pain was short lived and did not bruise," replied Mr. Phillips. "but
that was when she had been my assistant for several years, and was nearly inured
to the pain and bruising."

"Oh well, let's get on with it, then," sighed Jen. "Where do
you want me?"

"Don't say it like that, please," implored the magician. "I
know you didn't exactly volunteer for this, but it will all seem so much easier
and pleasant if you think of this as an adventure rather than a kind of bizarre
trip to the dentist. You will find that it all seems better if you smile a
bit."

Jen pasted on her fakest smile and this started her giggling. The smile
became genuine.

"There, that feels better already, doesn't it?" remarked Mr.
Phillips. "Ok, now you are feeling better, would you step into the cabinet
on the right."

Jen looked the cabinet over. It seemed to be built out of four boxes, The two
that stood on a thin base were about eighteen inches tall and six inches square
and were a foot part. The box fronts had hinges at the outside edges and a two
inch gap at the bottom. On top of the two lower boxes was a large rectangular
box with double doors on the front and no other openings. On top of the large
box was a slightly tapered, head sized box with a flap that folded upward.
Overall, the cabinet gave the crude impression of a human outline. The front and
sides were decorated with an Egyptian motif.

"You want me to get into that?" asked Jen. Mr. Phillips nodded
confirmation. "And then what happens?" She continued.

"Once you're in properly, I'll shut the doors and do what I need to do
to disappear your middle. Then I open the cabinet and show you that your middle
has disappeared. Once that's done it's just reverse the procedure to bring your
middle back and let you out. Simple really. All you have to do is stand there
and let it happen."

"It doesn't involve any saws does it?" Jen queried nervously.

"No, no saws," assured the old magician. "Only the sawing in
half ever involves an actual saw, and I've seen that done without, but not
often."

"OK, I'll do it," said Jen as she started to open the cabinet's
doors. "How come the insides of all magicians' boxes are always
black?" she inquired.

"Well, it's something real magicians picked up from illusionists. You
see it helps them hide stuff like hidden panels and such, because it's difficult
to tell the depth of matt black box. Us magicians use it because it actually
looks good, unlike some of the sillier things that they get up to."

The interior of the cabinet was bare, except for three shackles; two wide
ones at the top of each of the leg boxes and a narrower padded one in the base
of the head box. Each shackle had an open padlock hanging from it. "I
suppose you want me to lock myself in," said Jen, giving the top padlock a
tap.

"Yes, of course," he said and then seeing Jen's skeptical look,
added, "It's for your safety; it prevents you from moving too far that your
middle doesn't come back. And don't worry I've got the keys so I can let you out
afterwards."

"Yeah, right." Jen unhooked the lower padlocks and opened the
shackles and shuffled backwards into the person shaped cabinet. She closed the
shackles and hooked the padlocks in place without closing them. "Is it
alright, perhaps, to have them in place, but open?"

Mr. Phillips shook his head and said, "No sorry, but they might fall
out. And then where would you be? In trouble, that's where."

"I suppose if you insist," sighed Jen.

"I insist!"

Jen snapped the leg padlocks shut and then straightened up, reaching behind
her neck for the neck shackle. She unhooked the padlock and opened the shackle.
Jen moved her head back into the shackle and found the hair of the wig got in
the way. "What am I supposed to do with all this hair? It's getting in the
way."

"I'll come over and help you with that," said the aged magician. He
put down the gun, confident that his captive burglar could not attack him.
Trevor Phillips walked round the cabinet and opened the back of the head box.
Jen twisted to look at him. Close up, his face seemed handsome in a time-worn
way. He smiled at her. "Now turn and face front, so I can get all this hair
out of your way." She turned and soon felt him easing the hair so that
instead of lying down her back it draped through the back door of the cabinet's
head section and down its back. When the old man had finished only a couple of
stray wisps tickled the back of her neck.

Jen rested her neck in the shackle and snapped the padlock in place. The
shackle was very tight, but the padding stopped it from hurting. "This
collar's a bit tight," she observed.

"It needs to be," commented the elderly magician. He finished
arranging the hair and then shut the back door of the head section. He leaned
down to flip the leg doors shut. Now Jen realized why the leg doors did not
reach the bottom; so that her toes stuck out of the bottom. Immediately after,
the doors to the main section were closed and held shut by a clip. "I
thought rather than shutting you in straight away, I would let you get used to
this while I get the last couple of items for this illusion."

"Thank you," Jen replied, not entirely sure if she was grateful
that she was not going to be shut in immediately.

Mr. Phillips shuffled off to somewhere out of Jen's limited field of view and
return a minute or so later breathing heavily and dragging something metallic.
Jen heard something being leaned against the back of the cabinet. The old man
emerged into view.

"Are you alright in there so far?" asked the magician. Jen nodded.
"Ok, I'm going to shut the flap and when I open it in a short when your
middle will have disappeared, so don't worry."

Jen nodded again. He reached forward and gently lowered the front flap of the
head box over her face. Jen expected it to be dark once the box was closed, but
after about ten seconds she could detect various places where light got in. The
nearest of these were two slots either side of the base of the head box. Another
pair of slots in the base of the main section could also be detected but not
seen, finally some light from the toe holes filtered up past her legs.

Outside, Mr. Phillips picked up one of the blades he had retrieved once Jen
was secured in the box. It was a struggle, but he managed to lift the blade,
which was only slightly narrower than the cabinet was deep, so that it rested on
the shoulder of the cabinet. Jen hear the sound of it making contact. The
magician drew a few breaths gathering his strength as he raised the blade so
that it aligned along the level top of the main part of the cabinet. With a
great effort, he slid the blade across the top of the main box through the slot
at the base of the head box and out the other side.

Inside the cabinet, Jen heard the slide of metal across wood and the slot to
her right went dark. Something unseen tried to push her head and neck to her
left; she resisted aided by the shackle. She felt the blade pass through her
neck, almost in the same way she had felt the separation blades when she was
sawn in half. The tiara touched the left wall of the head box holding her head
still against the sideways force being applied at her neck. The light from the
left hand slot was suddenly blocked. Moments later the sideways force stopped
and she felt her head stand straight once more. She now drew breath to scream
her surprise and found that she could not breathe as deeply as she had tried to,
so the scream came out as a whimper.

Jen took as much breath as she could and asked, in a hoarse whisper, which
was as much as she could manage, "What's happening out there?"

Mr. Phillips, with his hands on his knees trying to recover his breath,
wheezed, "I just pushed a blade through your neck."

"Can you open the door of the head box? I'm having trouble breathing in
here."

The elderly magician, straightened up and opened the flap on the front of the
head section of the cabinet. "Try to breathe normally! In...! Out...!
In...! Out...!" he said, demonstrating in order to get his breathe back.

Jen felt her breathing ease as she breathed along with the aged man. "It
was a bit muffled, but did I hear you right? Did you really say you had put a
blade through my neck?"

"Um, yes, I said that. How does it feel?" the magician inquired.

"It all happened so quick. I was standing there minding my own business
then something hits me in the neck and I'm more worried about being knocked out
on the inside of this box than what's happening to my neck. Now I come to think
about it, I did feel something pass through, but it wasn't painful or ticklish
like the saw, more like when you put in the other blades, sort of as if my neck
was already cut," Jen explained, not quite knowing why she was being so
forthcoming.

"How does the rest of you feel, from the neck down?"

Jen took a moment to think about her body. As she mentally ticked of her
parts most of them felt no different, but her calves were feeling tense again,
so she moved her feet and toes thus easing the tension. "The rest of me
feels alright. May I ask you a question?"

"Fire away!"

"Well, you say you've pushed a metal blade through my neck, right?"
Mr. Phillips nodded. "So, how come I can breathe, eh?"

The retired magician, thought a while before responding. "The trite
answer is, 'it's part of the magic,' but I don't suppose that will satisfy your
curiosity." Jen tried to shake her head and her head barely moved, but Mr.
Phillips caught the movement and continued. "It is actually one of the main
principles of the true magic that I practice, that when living things are
divided magically they continue to operate as if undivided, except for some
restriction of the transmission of movement between the divided parts. That is
how you can feel your separated parts, but shaking your head just then didn't
work very well. Breathing and blood circulation are, kind of, in-between. Hence
you had difficulty breathing, because you were trying to breathe too hard.
Thinking of the blood, tell me if you start feeling faint and I'll do something
to alleviate it." The old man got a far away look in his eyes and said,
"I've had several assistant's who got too excited during the act and
frequently fainted during the performance, fortunately once they were restored
the blood circulation went back to normal and they were easy to wake up. It was
mostly good for the performance; it added drama to the situation, but I took to
having a small bottle of smelling salts about my costume to speed the revival
process."

"Yeah, great, but what about me. I thought you said you were going to
vanish my middle; what has a blade through the neck got to do with that?"
queried Jen.

"I'm sorry, forgive an old man his memories," said the magician,
evidently returning to the present. "Let's get on with this, because it's
not as much fun if the girl without a middle isn't awake to appreciate what I've
done."

The magician shuffled out of Jen's sight. She heard him drag the heavy blade
from where he had rested it against the back of the cabinet. As Mr. Phillips
lifted the blade and try to slot into the slot in the base of the cabinet's main
section, Jen could hear him wheezing again. Concerned, she asked, "Are you
alright? I don't want you passing out on me, especially in my current
predicament."

Once he could rest the old man replied, "I'll be alright. It's just so
long since I handled these blades. I had forgotten quite how heavy they were.
You know when I was a young man I used to carry these blades one in each hand
and clash them together to demonstrate that they were real. But now sadly I need
both hands."

"Why don't you use lighter blades, you know thinner or use a lightweight
alloy perhaps?" suggested Jen.

"Would that I could have, but lightweight alloys weren't in range of my
pocket when I built this effect," commented the aged magician.
"Besides the weight is one of the properties that makes them work. I think
it's a question of having enough momentum to make the cut, but, then again,
there's also the performance factor; a thick heavy blade looks more real, in a
way, than a thinner blade, and they have to be strong enough to withstand the
stresses that the magic imposes on them. My mentor told me a tale of a magician
who tried to use thinner blades, and it worked for a while too; but then one day
the blade broke while the illusion was being performed, metal fatigue, I
suppose. I'm told the assistant died while still on stage, because he had actors
dressed as ambulance men stationed in the theatre for effect, instead of a real
ambulance crew."

Mr. Phillips now felt strong enough to push the second blade through. Once he
had adjusted the angle of the blade to level, he leaned forward and gave the
handle of the blade a shove. The blade moved smoothly forward, slowing twice as
it forced its way through Jen's legs. Jen heard the blade coming but could do
nothing about it. Again she felt the passing through feeling. The blade stopped
when the handle reach the outside of the cabinet. For a few moments, Jen's feet
felt numb, as if she had been sitting with them curled under her, then full
feeling returned, along with a new sensation, her body felt cold from neck to
knee, as if she was standing wearing next to nothing in a winter draught.

"You could have warned me!" protested Jen.

"I suppose I could have, but it works best if the muscles are a bit
relaxed. Any pain?"

"Not really," conceded Jan, "My neck is getting a bit tired,
but my legs don't hurt yet, but I'm feeling very cold in here."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that, but I have no control over the temperature
you feel, it varies with time, I once worked out it had something to do with
sunspot activity, but it's a decade or more since I kept note of these things. I
think that when there are a lot of sunspots the vanished part is colder and when
there are few sunspots disappeared bits are warm, almost hot."

"What has vanishing people got to do with sunspots?" then the
significance of what he had just said hit her. "Are you saying that you
have made my middle disappear? But I can still feel it."

"What did you expect?"

"How should I know? maybe to lose feeling all together. I'm new to this
stuff. Can you bring me back now, please, I'm getting very cold."

"Not yet, I haven't shown you your vanished bits. I know that sounds
ridiculous, but I never did find a better way to describe it. Bear with me while
I bring the mirror so you can see what's happened." Mr. Phillips shuffled
off and soon returned with the mirror.

After some repositioning and adjustment of the mirror, Jen could see the
entire front of the cabinet, with the blade handles on one side, the leading
edges on the other, her head in the tapered head box and her toes sticking out
of the bottom of the leg boxes and twitching at her command. This did not look
so bad.

Mr. Phillips came forward and touched her face; a light finger tap on her
nose. She wrinkled her face and asked what he had done that for. He said that he
wanted to prove to her that the mirror was not faked. She said that she know
that already. The aged magician squatted down and squeezed Jen's toes gently
through the shoe leather. She twitched them in response.

"Alright, so the bits I can see are real, so what?" asked Jen.

"I had better show you the rest then." He opened the door to the leg box
nearest him. In the box stood the column of Jen's fishnet encased leg between
the pedestal of the shoe and the capital of the wide shackle at the top of the
box. Jen flexed the leg, at first picking the wrong one, because she had been
confused by the mirror. The magician leaned across to flip open the other leg
box revealing the other leg in perfect symmetry. "I can tell you're not
really all that impressed." remarked Mr. Phillips.

"What's to be impressed with; you've locked me in an ice box and pushed
blades through me. Ok solid metal blade through solid me might get my applause
if I could see it."

"Alright, I'll show you something a little more impressive." He
stood up and undid the catch holding the door of the main section shut. With a
dramatic gesture he threw open the doors to reveal the empty interior of the
cabinet. "You see I've vanished your middle."

Jen looked at the blank space where she assumed her body should have been.
"Ok, I'm impressed, or I would be if my body, wherever it is weren't so
cold. Hey, wait a minute, you told me that illusionists used black inside boxes
to fool people's depth perception; I bet that goes double in mirrors. How do I
know that you haven't put a black panel in front of me while I wasn't
looking."

"Skeptical, eh. I always found the assistants who were skeptical enjoyed
themselves more; maybe because they found the magic more amazing, when they were
convinced." Mr. Phillips opened a side door of the cabinet and put his arm
in. A quick wave and he withdrew. "That better?"

"I suppose so. No wait! You could be leaning in in front of the panel.
That would also explain why I couldn't feel any change."

"Well, you are clever. You're the first person who has suggested that,
but I'm afraid you're wrong. Because if I do this, that knocks your little
theory on the head." He moved behind the cabinet, where Jen heard the click
of another catch being undone. The magician lowered the back of the cabinet
until it was horizontal. As he did so the black hair of the wig Jen was wearing,
cascaded over the top edge of the descending door. Mr. Phillips gathered the
hair together and gently tugged it.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Demonstrating that the hair you can see through the cabinet is the hair
attached to your head."

"OK, Maestro, so I can't see my body. What have you done with it? I want
it back before I freeze to death."

"To be totally honest, I'm not exactly sure what's happening with your
body. I do know that it isn't here," he said, leaning into cabinet and
waving both arms through the space where Jen's torso should have been. "I
couldn't swear to exactly what's happened to your delightful torso. It might
have been sent somewhere, or it might have really have gone temporarily out of
existence. But whatever has happened to it it's easy enough to get it
back."

"I want my body back, please," begged Jen. "I'm getting so
cold."

"Alright, here goes. I'll skip the throwing things through your gap and
such like." The aged magician lifted the rear of the box with one hand and
moved the draped hair with the other. There was a soft snick as the catch on the
rear panel was secured. As Mr. Phillips came round the cabinet he shut the side
door and then having leaned in and rapped the inside of the back panel, he shut
the front doors and fastened the catch. "How are you in there?" the
magician asked.

"Still freezing."

Without bothering to shut the doors on the other three boxes, Mr. Phillips
went to the side of the box and pulled on the lower blade. The blade slid out
smooth and clanged when it dropped onto the floor.

"How about now?"

"I'm still very cold."

Jen could see and feel the sideways movement of her head as the old man
pulled the blade, as the edge of the blade returned through her neck, the
feeling of absolute cold left her body. Mr. Phillips quickly stepped back and
allowed the blade to fall onto the other one with a metallic crash. He stepped
forward and re-opened the main section, revealing Jen's red velvet clad body,
which was still shivering.

After a quick mental stock take, Jen reckoned that she was all there and
together and actually feeling pretty good about the situation, a little to her
surprise. "Could you let me out of here, please?" she requested.

"Of course, I could, my dear Jen, but I thought I would let you let
yourself out."

"And how do I do that?" asked Jen.

"I'm sure that you can pick the locks."

Jen lifted the padlock at her neck into view. "I reckon I could, if I
had my tools."

"So, Jen, are you getting hungry?" asked the old man.

"What's that got to do with anything?" responded Jen, wondering
where the talk of letting her out of this box had gone. "I thought we were
talking about letting me out of this device."

"We were, but now it's time for my supper. You see nowadays I'm a man of
regular, not to say rigid, habits. In my touring days, I never knew when I was
going to be able get my next meal from one day to the next. Such irregular
living gave me ulcers and all sorts of other complaints that did not stop me
working, but made life less pleasant. If I did not love the magic so much I
would have given up many years before I did. Since I retired, I have keep to a
strict regimen of meals at particular times and I feel vastly better for it. So,
I'll be going down to the kitchen to make myself my supper. I was offering to
bring back something to eat while I'm going any way."

"Let me get this straight; you are going to leave me locked in this
thing, while you go and make supper. And you are offering to bring something
back for me."

"Exactly right my dear," said the old man, "I would like you
to be here when I return, because you are being a very good assistant. I'll let
you escape when I get back; I always like to see a professional at work. I'm
going to have some tea and a mushroom omelette, would you like the same?"

"Ok," said Jen resigned to being captive for quite a while.

"I'll be as fast as I can. Less than ten minutes, I reckon. At least you
won't suffer the cramps while I'm gone." Mr. Phillips left closing the door
softly.

Jen stood there still restrained inside the cabinet, enjoying the warmth of
the room and wondered. A lot of questions vied for attention. How had he known
she was here? Why had she not attempted to escape? Why had she co-operated? Why
had she changed her clothes, not once, but twice? Why had she allowed him to saw
her in half? How had he sawn her in half? Was Mr. Phillips a real magician or a
very clever illusionist? Was Mr. Phillips sane? Was he calling the police even
now? Would he come back at all? The entire question of how the magic worked, if
it really was magic. Why was all this stuff stored in an upstairs room, instead
of some shed or warehouse? In fact why had he kept this equipment at all? How
much was all this stuff worth?

Then surprised herself by thinking, 'I wonder if he makes a good omelette.'
Jen's mind went onto an entirely different tack, considering her brief
relationship with the retired magician. It had started with hostility, but that
was to be expected as she was an intruder. Why had he offered her an alternative
to shooting or the police. Why had she accepted? Why did she feel better about
him and more trusting? She discovered she quite liked her captor. She found him
gentle, considerate and kind, despite the pain he had inflicted. She began to
wonder what else he had in store for her. What were the other two cabinets that
he had dragged into the clear area for? She found herself looking forward to
being subjected to whatever Mr. Phillips had in mind for her. This realization
jarred; why was she anticipating more pain and discomfort? She soon realized
this was not what she was enjoying, but the peculiar situations she was being
put into and the polite and sensitive way that the old man was subjecting her to
them.

While all these thoughts had been ebbing and flowing through her mind, Jen
was flexing her toes to keep the cramps at bay, and caressing the soft nap of
her costume.