The Last Illusion

“It’s too risky to have her with us,“ Lily said impatiently. “Give me the damned knife. I’ll do it if you’re squeamish.”


As they discussed what to do with me I had been inching closer to the wall. I picked up the paint pot and flung it into her face as she reached for the knife. At the same time I pulled down the lever on the wall. The trapdoor opened and the little platform descended onto them. Not quickly enough to harm them, unfortunately, but at least they had to jump out of the way. Lily was screaming and as I looked at her it seemed as if blood was pouring from her face. Then I realized, of course, that it was red paint.

She let out a string of German curses at me as I fled up the steps to the wings. Smith and Summer were right behind me and I didn’t think I’d get far, but at least I’d not give up without a fight. As I crossed the stage there was a click and all the stage lights came on. We froze, blinking in the brilliant glare.

“Hold it right there, gentlemen,” a voice said, and to my utter relief I watched policemen coming up the steps onto the stage.

“Stand back,” Smith said. He grabbed me and held the knife at my throat. “One step nearer and this woman dies.”

An eerie silence fell as the constables stopped moving.

“Don’t do anything stupid, sir,” one of them said. “Let the young lady go and nobody will get hurt.”

“She’s coming with me and nobody will try to stop us,” Smith said.

He started to drag me backward. Then something strange happened. I heard a whooshing noise and was vaguely conscious of someone standing behind us. The knife tightened on my throat for a second and I felt it nick my skin. I heard Smith give something between a grunt and a gurgle. Then another hand came around Smith’s.

“Drop it,” a voice said, and slowly Smith’s hand was pulled away from my throat and his arm was twisted around until he whimpered in pain.

“I said, drop it.”

“Stop it, you’re breaking my arm!” Smith screamed.

“With pleasure,” the voice said.

I took the opportunity to struggle free. Smith’s arm was now up behind his back and his assailant had forced him to his knees. That assailant was Dr. Leopold Weiss.

“Here you are, gentlemen. He’s all yours,” Weiss said. “Please take good care of him until Chief Wilkie of the Secret Service gets here. He’s a dangerous German agent. And I suggest you stop the illusionist Summer and his assistant from leaving the theater by the back door.”

Men rushed past us. Anthony Smith was put into handcuffs and taken down from the stage.

“And the stagehand called Ernest,” I called out. “He is also one of them.”

“German spies, you mean?” a young policeman asked in surprise.

“Exactly.”

Two constables exchanged glances. “Who would have thought it—here in New York?” one of them said.

I must have swayed a little.

“Are you unharmed?” Dr. Weiss asked me.

“I think so. I was hit on the back of the head and it’s certainly throbbing like billy-o, but other than that, I think I’ll survive. Do you really have a carriage waiting? Mr. Wilkie will be arriving at Houdini’s house any moment.”

“Then let us go,” he said. He took my arm and steered me down the steps and through the theater.

“I’m taking this young lady to be examined,” he said. “She had received a blow to the head. Please tell your superiors that we may be found at Houdini’s residence, on 102nd Street in Harlem.”

Then he steered me outside. The thunderstorm had passed, the sidewalks were steaming, and the evening sunlight hurt my eyes. He hailed a cab and helped me up. I sat back with a sigh of relief. Then, as we set off, I remembered something. “Your scrapbooks. That fiend Anthony Smith must have them, or they are still in the carriage in which he transported me.”

“My scrapbooks?” He looked at me with interest.

“It is Mr. Houdini, I presume?” I asked with a smile.





Thirty-four


The cab set off with a clatter of hooves. We sat side by side in the semi darkness. “How did you know?” he asked me.

I turned to look at him. “I saw a photograph of your family. Leopold was quite a bit taller than you, although you have his beard and hair perfectly. What’s more, you recognized me this morning and I knew that Leopold had never seen me. Also, Harry Houdini and I were about the same height so Leopold would have been taller than me. I didn’t realize it right away, but you have a certain way of thrusting out your jaw when you speak. So when you appeared in the theater, I thought I’d take a chance that it was you and not your brother. I gave you the signals you’d drilled into me, and you understood them.”

He smiled. “Very clever, Miss Murphy—you even remembered to touch your hair when you said the words ‘will’ and ‘key,’ so that the message read ‘Wilkie at Houdini’s house.’ You were a good pupil.”