The Last Illusion

“That’s because I’m Bess Houdini’s friend,” I said. “She invited me to the show, and then she begged me to take her place when she wasn’t well enough to go on and she knew that Houdini needed an assistant.”


“So you’ve done this before?” Mr. Irving snapped. “I run a top-class house here. I’ve no time for amateurs.”

“Do you think I’d permit an amateur to work with me?” Houdini stepped between us with the kind of flourish only he could produce. “If she hadn’t been up to par, there is no way I would have considered having her onstage with me. You’ll see. She’ll be all right on the night.”

“She better be,” Irving muttered, “or you might find that you’ve just broken the terms of your contract.”

So now I had the added worry of not disgracing Houdini so that he actually got paid for the performance. I didn’t have a chance to see the other performers before I went onstage as I was up in the dressing room, thinking that I was about to be sick. Why did I put myself through these things? Then I remembered that I had promised Daniel this would be my last case. At that particular moment I thought this was the best idea in the world.

We made our way downstairs to the backstage area. A thought struck me.

“Where is the key to the trunk?”

“In my jacket pocket,” he said.

“A lot of good it will be in there, if you’re trapped inside,” I said.

“In case you haven’t been watching properly, I hang up my jacket before they truss me up and put me in the bag,” he said. “So the key will be hanging from the coatrack. But it won’t be necessary. I have yet to find anything that can hold me.”

At that moment I heard the announcer’s voice, booming out in dramatic tones, “And let’s put our hands together in a rousing welcome for the lovely Molly, who has graciously agreed to take the place of Bess Houdini until she is well again.”

“You’re on.” Houdini gave me a shove. And I stepped out onstage, my heart racing and my eyes blinking in the strong lights. I hadn’t realized how bright they would be. Out in the darkened auditorium I could just make out that sea of faces watching me and tried to make my body act like a glamorous magician’s assistant as the announcer whipped up the crowd into a frenzy for the appearance of Houdini.

I was vaguely aware of Houdini speaking to the audience, saying that the Irish were noted for their second sight, and how he was lucky enough to have stumbled across a true Irish medium with remarkable powers of mind reading. I managed to walk across the stage and to sit in the chair that had been placed in the center. With that he made his way down into the audience and asked someone to pick a card, study it, and then place it in a box.

“All right, Molly,” he said. “You are going to tell this nice lady what card she has put into this little black box.”

Oh, Holy Mother. Did I really see him wiggle his eyebrows up and down? And he touched the woman’s right shoulder, didn’t he?

“Molly?” he repeated. “What card comes to your mind?”

I opened my mouth but no sound would come out. “The five of hearts?” It was scarcely bigger than a whisper.

“Louder!” he boomed. “Let those in the back row of the balcony hear it too.”

“The five of hearts!” I exclaimed.

He handed the box to another audience member. “Would you see what card is in this box?” he asked.

“The box is empty,” the man replied.

“That’s strange,” Houdini said. “Where can the card have gone?”

He ran back onstage and made me stand up. I was sitting on the five of hearts. Vaguely I was aware of the applause.

Then we went into the part with the hood over my head. He made it easy for me, with the most obvious of clues that we had practiced. I guessed successfully a fan and a pocket watch. The rest of the act went without a hitch, although I’m sure I didn’t move across the stage with the glamorous grace of Lily. But Houdini successfully escaped from the handcuffs and from the trunk and there I was, standing in front of the curtains, taking a bow.

“Well done,” Houdini said, putting his hand around my waist as we came offstage. Such a gesture would have resulted in a slapped face in the outside world, but this was the theater, after all. But I did recall Bess’s jealous outburst and moved aside with agility.

“We got through it, didn’t we?” I agreed.

“In one piece,” he added. He was half joking but I moved closer to him again.

“Tell me, Harry, do you really suspect that someone is trying to kill you, as Bess thinks?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Until yesterday I would have said no. Bess does tend to—well, you’ve seen what she can be like. But I’d like to know what happened to the key to that trunk. The key was in the inside pocket to my coat. Who would have known about that?”