question Bronwen about her work and about modern cameras and printing methods. She found herself expatiating on the aesthetic superiority of calotype over the admittedly more manageable emulsion plates now commercially manufactured, on albumen and carbon prints, and on possible substitutes for fragile glass negatives. He drew her out—truly he was mesmeric when he chose—on the niceties of naturalistic photography, tinted portraits, cartes-de-visite, and stereoscopy; and listened with flattering attentiveness to her own preferences in equipment and processing.
He was particularly interested in techniques of double exposure, but when she thought to use this as an opportunity for turning the conversation towards his own occupation, she discovered how late it was. The meal had been ended for some time, and she caught herself about to yawn, her eyes stinging with tiredness and the upsets of the day. Caspian had suavely directed the conversation along her own line of interests, and revealed nothing of himself.
As they were about to leave the dining room he said: ‘I may count on you, then, tomorrow morning? What time would best suit you for taking photographs of the footprints?’
‘Dr. Caspian, you have given me no hint of your reasons for interest in this matter. I’ve told you a great deal about my own work. So far I know nothing of yours.’
‘I’m a magician.’
‘Seriously, I mean.’
‘Most seriously I mean,’ he said, ‘that I am a magician.’
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