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datatime: 2022-11-27 00:48:09 Author:NoIgqhNa

'Don't blame New York,' he said. 'It can't help itself.'

He turned on his heel and made a smart withdrawal.

'Did you ever see his performance?'

'So I did,' she said, conceding his point with an apologetic look. 'Forgive me. That was Swann talking. He hated to be called a magician. He said that was a word that had to be kept for miracle-workers.'

'Illusionist,' she said.

'Now I think I didn't know him at all,' she went on, 'didn't understand him. I think maybe it was another trick. Another part of his magic.'

'To Hamburg,' she said, 'I don't like this city. It's too hot. And too cruel.'

'Illusionist,' she said.

Valentin had re-appeared, his lugubrious features rife with suspicion. He carried an envelope, which he clearly had no desire to give up. Dorothea had to cross the carpet and take it from his hands.

'The letter,' she repeated.

'Oh yes. I lived with Swann seven and a half years, and I got to understand him as well as anybody ever could. I learned to sense when he wanted me around, and when he didn't. When he didn't, I'd take myself off somewhere and let him have his privacy. Genius needs privacy. And he was a genius, you know. The greatest illusionist since Houdini.'

He looked at her strangely, almost as though she'd said something obscene.

'About it being an accident.'

Valentin had appeared with a glass of milk. He set it down on the table in front of Harry. As he made to leave, she said: 'Valentin. The letter?'

'But you don't believe it?'

'May I ask . . . your name?'

'Did you ever see his performance?'

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

'May I ask . . . your name?'

'About it being an accident.'

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

'I'd think sometimes-it was a kind of miracle that he let me into his life . . .'

'I read about it. Tragic.'

'Illusionist,' she said.

'I'd think sometimes-it was a kind of miracle that he let me into his life . . .'

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