The Last Illusion

His act was followed by the magician with the card tricks. Unlike the others with their fancy names he was introduced as Billy Robinson and his only distinguishing feature seemed to be a drooping mustache, which gave his face a lugubrious appearance. His card tricks received only lukewarm applause even though I thought they were pretty clever myself. Then followed Abdullah, the Fakir from Egypt, who was a last-minute replacement for Scarpelli. Apparently he had come straight from his success at the Cairo Pavilion on Coney Island. He was a fire-eater and sword swallower—in fact I remembered seeing him there. He got a better reception, especially when a whole long cavalry sword that had previously sliced an apple in half disappeared down his gullet. But the audience was clearly waiting for the high point. I could hear the murmur of anticipation.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the act you’ve all been waiting for,” the theater manager announced. I didn’t think this was particularly diplomatic to those acts that had preceded. “Straight from his amazing successes in Germany and Russia, where he played to kings and emperors, Miner’s Theatre is proud to present Houdini, King of Handcuffs!”

There was a tremendous roar from the crowd and Houdini swept onto the stage, resplendent in white tie and tails. His smile lit up the whole stage and I saw instantly that this man had presence. Bess stood out of the spotlight to one side while he accepted the applause. At last he held up his hands. “Please. You are too kind. We have magic to please you all tonight. Tricks of the mind and feats of strength and endurance that will take your breath away. And, as always, my hundred-dollar challenge. Anyone who presents me with a pair of handcuffs from which I can’t escape will earn one hundred dollars.”

An excited buzz ran through the audience.

“Any takers tonight?” Houdini paced the front of the stage.

“Any legitimate pair of handcuffs,” he went on. “Several times while I was in Germany some guy too smart for his own good brought me handcuffs that had been tampered with. Locks that were plugged so that they wouldn’t open. But in America we play fair, don’t we? We like a good fair fight and a good challenge. So remember, if you come up here with your cuffs, I may want to try them out on you first.”

A laugh went around the audience at this.

“What, no takers tonight?”

“Down here!” A shout went up from the audience. One man was making his way toward the stage. Houdini greeted him like an old friend. “Oh, it’s you again, Cunning. Still haven’t given up, have you? Still trying to catch me out.” He turned back to the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen. This man is a fellow illusionist and he’s determined to get the better of me. Well, let’s see what you’ve come up with this time.”

A pair of monstrous-looking handcuffs were passed across to Houdini. He examined them, then handed them back and nodded. “Seem fair enough. Where did you dig these up?”

“The new regulation handcuffs of the Chicago Police Department. State-of-the-art, these are.”

Houdini looked amused. “Okay, let’s give it a shot, shall we? Let’s see what the Chicago police department can do.”

“Behind your back,” the man insisted. “And in full view of the audience. No funny business.”

“No funny business, he states.” Houdini gave the audience an amused look.

“And I get to search you first.”

“I’m not stripping naked as I’ve done at quite a few police stations,” Houdini said. “There are ladies present.”

“Take off your jacket and shirt at least.”

“Very well.” Houdini was still in good humor. Bess came forward and he removed his jacket and then his shirt. Underneath he was wearing what looked like a shiny red singlet. I saw what Ryan had meant about Houdini’s torso. He was as well muscled as any bodybuilder.

“Right, turn around,” the man commanded.

Houdini turned. The man put on the handcuffs, high on his forearms so that his arms were jammed together at a strange angle. It looked very cruel to me. I could see them digging into Houdini’s flesh, but he didn’t complain or even make any comment.

“Right, let’s see you get out of that,” the man said with satisfaction.

Houdini wriggled and jiggled and shook his shoulders a bit. He turned away from the audience, then back again. Suddenly there was a clatter and the handcuffs fell to the floor. Houdini picked them up and handed them to the visibly shaken man.

“Really, Cunning, I’m surprised at you. I thought you could come up with something better than that. Even my dear Bess could escape from those.” He turned to her and she came back with his shirt and coat, helping him to dress.

The man left the stage to catcalls. “There you go, fellows,” Houdini said to the audience. “If you plan to commit a crime, then I suggest Chicago. You’d be out of their handcuffs in no time at all.”

As the fellow magician departed one fact clicked into place in my head—something that had been bothering me while I had watched the act. The other voice I had heard speaking in low tones in that hallway had been Houdini’s.





Eight


Houdini’s act continued. Bess was presented as the incredible mind reader.

“I’m the brawn, she’s the brain,” Houdini told the audience.

He went down into the audience with a pack of cards. He stopped by an elderly woman and asked her to pick a card, memorize it, then place it into a little black box.

“Bess will now read your mind and tell you what card lies inside the box,” he said.

Bess appeared to go into a trance.

“When you are ready, Bess. We don’t want to rush you.”

“I see the card,” she said in a high, tense voice. “It’s—it’s the nine of spades.”