The Last Illusion

“I did more than that,” I said. “I found out why the German agents were so eager to keep Houdini from meeting you.” I looked across at him.

“I was taken around a factory,” Houdini explained. “They were proud to show off their engineering superiority. I glimpsed a design for an underwater craft that could transport many men undetected. And then, on another occasion, when I overheard a plan to launch a surprise attack on the East Coast of the United States, I realized how dangerous this craft could be.”

Wilkie nodded. “We were half expecting something like this.”

“Why would the Germans want to attack the United States?” Daniel asked. “Do they want to wage war against us? Do they have the might to do so?”

“Not yet,” Wilkie said. “They merely mean to alarm us. They wish to expand their presence in the Americas—to establish colonies in Central and South America—and they think such surprise attacks would make a good bargaining tool with the country that dominates the Americas.”

“How foolhardy of them,” I said. “Smaller incidents have led to out-and-out wars, haven’t they?”

He nodded.

“So what will happen now?”

“We will let them know that we know. They will mumble apologies, claim that they meant no harm, that they were merely formulating possible strategies, that their agents overreacted, and the cat-and-mouse game will begin all over again.”

My head suddenly started throbbing again and weariness and pain swept over me. I clutched at Daniel. “I’m not feeling very well,” I said. “Would you please take me home?”



. . .



Soon we were sitting side by side in a hansom as it clip-clopped southward through the park. It was a glorious evening. Children played and couples strolled in the balmy air. The trees glowed in late sunlight. It felt as if the whole world had suddenly been put right.

Daniel slipped his arm around my shoulder. “Molly—” he began.

“I know. It can never happen again. Don’t worry. I agree with you. I have no wish to go through that again ever. Let’s pick a date and get married soon.”

“September?” he suggested. “It’s a lovely month, isn’t it? Cooler, fall colors beginning. A perfect time in Westchester.”

As he spoke I pictured it: tables on the lawn, an open carriage from the church with my veil blowing in the breeze. It did seem rather inviting. “All right,” I said. “We’ll get married from your mother’s house if it means a lot to you, only I’m inviting all my friends and I don’t want to hear any complaints from you.”

He looked at me and laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of crossing someone who has just taken on the cream of German espionage and won,” he said. “I want you to know that I’m very impressed. Mr. Wilkie said it was too bad you were a woman.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said it was absolutely perfect that you were a woman because I was madly in love with you.”

I laughed and turned my face toward him to be kissed. A long time of silence then ensued.

“So you will agree to give up this detective business, as promised?” he asked.

“I suppose I’ll have to if I’m to be a married lady,” I said, “but I’m willing to offer my superior detecting skills to my husband, should he need them.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said.

“By the way, did you analyze that bloody rag I gave you?”

“We did,” he said. “It was pig’s blood. Your instincts were quite right.”

I allowed myself a little smirk, which then broadened as I remembered something else.

“Tell me,” I began, “have any forged banknotes turned up in Boston yet?”

He looked astonished. “How the deuce did you—”

I grinned. “You can tell Mr. Wilkie that you have solved the problem of the fake money,” I said. “Or at least part of it. I suspect they are being printed in New York, below a theatrical boarding house, and are being distributed by the vanishing Signor Scarpelli, alias Alfred Rosen. Maybe other entertainers are in on it, and I suspect that we’ll discover that German agents are behind this as well.”

“Why didn’t you tell this to Mr. Wilkie when we were with him just now?”

I hesitated. In truth I was still too much in shock to be able to think straight about anything and in the heat of the moment I had forgotten the banknotes. So I permitted myself one small last lie. “I thought it might look good for my future husband’s career if he solved the case,” I said at last.

“Well I’m—” Daniel started. I put my finger on his lips.

“No bad language from now on. It won’t be good for the children.”

He laughed and swept me into his arms, hugging me fiercely.

“I love you, Molly Murphy,” he said.

“And so you should,” I replied.

Suddenly a strange expression came over his face. He sat up and reached into his pocket.

“It wasn’t the right time to give you this before,” he said. “But I can’t carry it around forever.” He drew out a small embossed leather box and opened it. In the shadows of the cab I saw the sparkle of diamonds.