The next twenty-four hours were a flurry of activity in the hotel. All the magicians had checked in.

Now that the invitations had arrived, the magical guests gabbed and gossiped in the lobby for hours at a time. They had lunch in the hotel restaurant. They milled around the hotel games room, chatting about what tricks they’d show off at the party.

Meanwhile, the reporters were back. Word had gotten out, and it seemed like a big scoop.

Especially Abracadabra’s performance at the magic show. He’d been gone so long, there was little doubt among the reporters that he had some new amazing tricks up his silk sleeves.

One reporter in particular hung around the lobby a lot — usually right next to Charlie. His name was Joey Bingham.

It was early Sunday morning. The party was that night, and there was a lot of work to do. Charlie and Ty were behind the lobby desk when Joey walked up. “How did you know Brack the elevator operator was actually Abracadabra?” he asked.

“I told you, Joey,” Charlie said. “I figured it out.”

Charlie and Ty knew Joey. Not long ago, he’d investigated the disappearance of a classmate with them — though he didn’t contribute much to the investigation. For a reporter, he seemed pretty clueless.

Joey shook his head. “I find it hard to believe,” he said, “that you two would figure out this great secret.”

“Why?” said Ty. “We’re smart. I happen to be very intelligent, and Charlie is a total whiz at remembering stuff and figuring stuff out.”

Joey smirked. “Of course you are,” he said. He leaned close to the boys and said in a whisper, “But the rest of us are professional reporters. We investigate and discover secrets for a living.”

“You couldn’t find the missing boy,” Charlie said quickly.

Joey’s face went red. “I would have,” he said. “Eventually.”

“Anyway, we have to help Mr. Abracadabra set up for the party,” said Ty. He grabbed Charlie’s arm to pull him away. “We’re his friends, you know.”

Joey sneered at them as they walked off. Then he gasped at something behind them.

The rest of the lobby — full of magicians and reporters — gasped too. Ty and Charlie turned and saw flashes go off. The reporters began to run for the front door as it swung closed. Smiling and posing for the hundreds of cameras on him was the Great Theopolis — the very magician and illusionist who had been responsible for the missing boy that Joey Bingham couldn’t find.

Joey ran toward the door with the others. Charlie and Ty stayed back to watch.

They leaned against the registration desk. Annie leaned on the desk from the other side. “I thought he checked out,” Charlie said.

Annie said, “He did. I guess he’s back. He’ll want his room on the thirteenth floor again, I guess.” She started shuffling through the room cards and keys. “He always stays there.”

“He was probably invited to the big party,” said Charlie.

Ty nodded. “And after his big stunt with the disappearing kid,” he said, “Theopolis is the most famous magician in town.”

“He was the most famous magician in town, you mean,” said Charlie with a smirk. “Now Brack is.”

“And I bet Theopolis isn’t too happy about that,” Ty said. “We’ll have to keep a close eye on him.”

* * *

---

Theopolis and Joey Bingham weren’t the only familiar faces to arrive at the Abracadabra Hotel that day.

Charlie also spotted Professor Pontificate, the mind reader and mind controller, strolling around the lobby. And, he saw, there was Mr. Madagascar, a master of levitation and long-time resident of the hotel who hardly ever left his room. Today, though, he was in the lobby with the rest of the crowd, along with his friend Dotty Drake. She’d been a great magician’s assistant in the old days.

Then there was Madame Krzyscky, the fire-eater from the theater’s premier show the week before. She wore a glittery skin-tight costume in red, orange, and yellow. She looked like fire herself as she walked around the lobby.

Ty elbowed Charlie in the side and pointed across the lobby. Charlie’s eyes went wide. Objects were flying through the air over the heads of the crowd in the lobby. He saw a bowling pin. He saw a baseball, a basketball, and a tennis racquet. He gasped when he saw a flaming stick, and then another.

Finally the objects stopped flying. A few people — reporters, mostly — applauded. The crowd parted and Charlie could see now: it was Mr. Thursday, master juggler.

A few weeks earlier, Charlie and Ty had thought Mr. Thursday was a ghost.

He’d been practicing his routine for a big comeback show in the hotel’s old theater. Little did they know then that the magicians were running a kind of dress rehearsal for the big reappearance of Abracadabra.

“I guess everyone’s here,” said Ty.

Charlie looked around the lobby. There were other jugglers. There were jesters. There were magicians’ assistants — mostly women, but some men — of all ages, wearing leotards or long white gowns or silver sequined bodysuits. There were plenty of men in tuxedoes and top hats, sometimes even with bunnies popping out of them. There were all sorts of card tricks going on. There were even people floating up near the ceiling, showing off their levitation tricks.

The place was absolutely filthy with magicians.

“And just think,” Charlie said. He crossed his arms. “Each and every one of them will be at Brack’s party tonight.”