The magician's assistant stepped into the box, an enclosure hardly larger than himself. A curtain from above was lowered over the box, while the magician went through her patter. The patter, no doubt, allowed time for the assistant to leave the box by a hidden door in the rear, or perhaps through a trapdoor in the bottom of the enclosure, then below the stage itself. What then? Would the assistant be replaced with someone else, maybe something else, or would the magician simply reveal an empty box? Until this point the show had been a reprise of old tricks, neither startling nor hard to explain. This seemed to be one more tired trick.

The curtain was raised and to no one's astonishment the enclosure was revealed to be empty. There was polite applause. It felt unfinished. Something was surely left to come, either that, or it was to be a very disappointing illusion. 

There was more to come. The magician invited an audience member, a young man, onto the stage to examine the box, to look for secret doors or a false floor. He examined the exterior, he entered the box. The curtain was lowered. A moment passed. The curtain was raised. The young man was gone. The audience applauded this clever reprisal of the trick, this twist.

In all, six young men were invited to the stage to examine the box. One after another the young men climbed the stairs to the stage, examined the exterior, entered the box, then appeared to have vanished.

By the third vanishing the applause had become tepid. The trick was tiresome. By the last disappearance there was near silence. Clearly the young men were disappearing in the same way the magician's assistant had first disappeared. The audience waited for a grand denouement. There was no grand denouement.

It was not a good trick, it was, however, the last trick of evening. The magician bowed, the curtain was lowered. There was no curtain-call. The audience gathered their coats and made their way to the exits. It was disappointing—six young men entered a box, six young men disappeared. They were, no doubt waiting with silly smiles on their faces in the lobby, along with the magician herself.

They were not in the lobby. Those who had come with the six young men, four young women and two young men, were left wondering where exactly they were to meet the "vanished." They waited, at first with good humor, then, as it became apparent that the theater workers were preparing to close the hall for the night, with annoyance. 

They asked the theater workers where the vanished were. The theater workers didn't know. Were they backstage? No, they were not backstage. Were they  below the stage? No, that wasn't possible, there were no trap doors in the stage floor. Were they outside, in the rear of theater? No, they were not out back. Out front? No, the friends could see for themselves they were not out front. 

The vanished six were called on cells. None answered. The theater manager was called to the lobby from his office. He knew nothing about it. It was aggravating. It was getting late. Humor turned to impatience, to annoyance, to frustration—even anger. This had gone on long enough, in fact, too long.  

Feeling he had no choice, the manager called the police. The friends waited in the lobby. To say they were put-out, worried, exasperated would be accurate. No one thought it was anything other than a mix-up, the vanished were somewhere, obviously—but it was beginning to feel wrong.

In the thirty minutes it took for the police to arrive the friends and the manager had had reached a state of discomfort, even alarm. When the police, two officers, arrived, the story was told, and told again. It made no sense. The police searched the theater. They contacted their captain. More police arrived.

By now it was late. The streets were nearly deserted. It was drizzling. The friends and manager were taken to the precinct for questioning. Phone calls were made. The theater owner was called to no avail. The magician was called. The number was found to be invalid. The whole thing was upsetting and unlikely and baffling and even frightening.

It was a very good trick, after all.