WHAT HAPPENED THEN - when the magician, having mesmerised the caged tiger, pulled thetasselled cord that released a dozen swords upon itshead - was the subject of heated argument both in thebar of the theatre and later, when Swann's performancewas over, on the sidewalk of 51st Street. Some claimed tohave glimpsed the bottom of the cage opening in the splitsecond that all other eyes were on the descending blades,and seen the tiger swiftly spirited away as the woman inthe red dress took its place behind the lacquered bars.Others were just as adamant that the animal had neverbeen in the cage to begin with, its presence merely aprojection which had been extinguished as a mechanismpropelled the woman from beneath the stage; this, ofcourse, at such a speed that it deceived the eye of all butthose swift and suspicious enough to catch it. And theswords? The nature of the trick which had transformedthem in the mere seconds of their gleaming descent fromsteel to rose-petals was yet further fuel for debate. Theexplanations ranged from the prosaic to the elaborate,but few of the throng that left the theatre lacked sometheory. Nor did the arguments finish there, on thesidewalk. They raged on, no doubt, in the apartmentsand restaurants of New York.

The pleasure to be had from Swann's illusions was,it seemed, twofold. First: the spectacle of the trickitself - in the breathless moment when disbeliefwas, if not suspended, at least taken on tip-toe.And second, when the moment was over and logicrestored, in the debate as to how the trick had beenachieved.

'How do you do it, Mr Swann?' Barbara Bernsteinwas eager to know.

'It's magic,' Swann replied. He had invited herbackstage to examine the tiger's cage for any sign offakery in its construction; she had found none. She had