The Last Illusion

“What do you want us to do, sir?” one of them asked.

“Control the exits for now,” Daniel said.

“When can we leave?” a man shouted from the audience. “My wife is feeling faint. I should get her into the fresh air immediately.”

“Your patience for a little while longer, sir,” Daniel said. “I want only one exit opened and my men stationed there. Then the audience will be allowed to leave, row by row. I need you to give my constables your names and addresses as you file out in orderly fashion. If there’s pushing and shoving, we may sit here all night.”

I had to admire Daniel’s great presence. In his own way he was as commanding as Houdini had been. This was a man who was used to being obeyed, I realized. No wonder he had such a hard time with me. I could hear the shuffling of feet and clattering of seats as the audience began to leave. Daniel turned back to us as there was the sound of footsteps from backstage, and Billy Robinson and Abdullah the sword swallower appeared, both now in street clothing. Robinson was fully dressed, but Abdullah was in shirtsleeves and still held a cotton ball in his hand with which he had been removing makeup.

“What’s all this about?” Robinson demanded. “I was about to go home and I was told I couldn’t.”

Then he saw the body. “Who the devil is that?”

“I was hoping one of you could shed light on that,” Daniel said. “But there were three acts. Where is the man with the birds?”

“Marvo? He’s already gone. He had an assignation with a young lady, so I believe,” Billy Robinson said.

“I see.” Daniel turned to the manager. “I’ll need his name and address. And when my men get here we’ll want a statement from everybody who—” he broke off because Houdini’s brother Dash had come back onto the stage and was whispering something in Bess’s ear. Daniel reacted with such obvious surprise that I realized he had mistaken the brother for Houdini himself.

“This is Houdini’s brother,” I said. “He is also an illusionist.”

“Rather an escape artist,” Dash said. “I do the handcuffs and that sort of thing.”

“Then you can tell me how the devil this body got into that trunk,” Daniel said.

“I have no idea,” Dash said. “The way that illusion is performed, I can’t see how a body could be substituted.”

“You usually perform this, Bess,” I said. “Can you think how it was done?”

Bess looked up and shook her head.

“You’ll find that illusionists are very tight with their secrets,” I said.

“And they might find that jail is an uncomfortable place to spend a night if they don’t cooperate with the police,” Daniel replied.

“I just want my husband found,” Bess said.

“They are searching for him now,” I answered gently.

“And neither of you recognizes the young man?” Daniel asked. “Take a good look at him.”

Dash shook his head. “I’ve never seen him before.”

But Bess got to her feet and went over to the body. She shuddered, then suddenly she put her hand to her mouth. “I think I have seen him,” she said. “He was the young man who came to our house that time when Harry was out. Remember I told you about him, Molly.”

“He came to your house? For what reason?” Daniel asked.

“He asked for my husband. I said he wasn’t there and he said to tell Harry that he’d be back. When I asked his name he said Harry would know who he was. It sounded like a threat to me.”

“Interesting.” Daniel stared down at the corpse. “So has your husband been getting threats, Mrs. Houdini?”

“I think he has,” she said.

“From whom?”

“I don’t know. When I asked him he said I was imagining things.”

Daniel stared at her for a moment, then looked back at the young man. “He doesn’t look to me the type who would be employed by the criminal classes. So what kind of threats could he have been making? Was your husband in any kind of trouble?”

“If he was, he didn’t tell me,” Bess said. “He knows I get upset.”

“But you said he was worried about something,” I reminded her. “You said he paced up and down at night and he got up to scribble things down on paper.”

“Yes, but that could have just been working out a new stunt,” she said. “He’s always in his own world when he’s working something out. Absolutely obsessed. Didn’t want to be disturbed.” She let out a great shuddering sigh. “I just want him found.”

Stagehands were returning to the stage. “He’s not anywhere,” one of them said. “We’ve searched the whole place, top to bottom. And Ted at the door says no one’s been in or out that way, except for Marvo, and he went some time ago.”

“Are there any other ways out?”

“There’s a service door leading to the back alley, when they need to bring in big pieces of scenery, but that was bolted from the inside,” another of the stagehands said. “It’s hardly ever used.”