Paddington at Work. Michael BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
on television, “but there’s one on your back!”
The applause which followed Paddington’s remark was even greater than it had been for Barry Baird and as it echoed round the ballroom the comedian put his hand over the microphone, leant over the footlights, and glared down at Paddington. “Barry Baird does the funnies here, bear,” he hissed.
“So much for wit and humour,” he announced, as he straightened up and showed a row of gleaming white teeth to the audience. “Now we come to the serious part of the show. The fastest act you’ve ever seen, ladies and gentlemen. Before your very eyes – no mirrors – no deception – before your very eyes I will remove the entire contents of the pockets belonging to any gentleman in the audience who cares to step up here – and he’ll never know it happened! Now come along, ladies and gentlemen, all I’m asking for is one volunteer…”
“Oh, crikey!” groaned Jonathan, as there was a sudden movement from the front row. “Trust Paddington!”
Barry Baird seemed to lose some of his bounce as Paddington climbed up on to the stage, but he quickly recovered himself.
“A big hand, ladies and gentlemen,” he boomed. “A big hand for this young bear gentleman who’s volunteered to have his pockets picked.”
“He’ll be lucky if he gets anything out of Paddington’s pockets,” murmured Mr Brown.
Barry Baird signalled to the band to start playing and then, talking all the while, he hovered round Paddington, his hands gliding up and down through the air like two serpents.
There was a gasp of amazement from the audience as he held up first a pencil then a notebook for them to see. Paddington himself looked as surprised as anyone for he hadn’t felt a thing.
Signalling to the band to play even faster, Barry Baird, his white teeth gleaming in the spotlight, circled the stage once more, waving his arms in time to the music.
Suddenly he stopped and the expression froze on his face as he slowly withdrew his hand from one of Paddington’s side pockets.
“Uggh!” he exclaimed before he could stop himself. “What have you got in there, bear?”
Paddington examined Barry Baird’s hand with interest as the music came to a stop. “I expect that’s a marmalade sandwich, Mr Baird,” he replied cheerfully. “I put it in there in case I had an emergency. I’m afraid it’s a bit squashed.”
Barry Baird, who looked as if he was about to have a bit of an emergency himself, stared at his hand for a moment as if he could hardly believe his eyes, and then gave a rather high-pitched laugh as he turned to face the audience.
“I’ve been in some jams before now,” he announced feebly, “but this is the first time I’ve ever been in a marmalade sandwich!”
Wiping his hands on a small square of silk which he withdrew from his top pocket Barry Baird mopped his brow and held up his hand for silence as he turned hurriedly to the next part of his act.
“I want everyone,” he announced, “to raise their hands above their heads and clasp them together.”
While the audience did as they were told, Barry Baird took a length of string from his pocket, tied a key to one end, and then set it in motion like a pendulum.
“Now,” he said as the main lights went dim again and the swinging key was illuminated by a single spotlight, “I want you all to watch this key carefully as it goes from left… to right… to left… to right… to left…” Barry Baird’s voice grew soft and caressing as the light went lower.
“I’ve seen this trick done before,” whispered Mr Brown with a chuckle. “You wait till they put the lights up again. There’s always some chap who can’t get his hands apart again.”
“Gosh!” groaned Judy, as the lights suddenly went up and everyone relaxed. “Look who it is!”
“I am surprised,” said Mrs Bird. “I should have thought Paddington would be more likely to hypnotise Barry Baird than be put under himself. Some of those stares he’s been giving him have been very hard.”
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