The Last Illusion

He gave me a long, hard look. “My dear Miss Murphy. I pride myself on being a good judge of character. I’m certain I can trust you.”


The train chugged on across flat New Jersey countryside, occasionally crossing rivers with boats bobbing in blue water. There were farms and leafy glades and everything looked very peaceful and rural. I watched a young woman taking in a line of dry laundry while a child and dog romped at her feet. In a nearby field men were harvesting corn with great baskets on their backs. I bet these people never have to worry about crimes, I thought. They wake with the sun. They work in the fields and they fall asleep tired and content. Maybe that was the kind of life to have, not always having to be alert, on guard, in danger.

“You will soon have a more peaceful life if you want it,” an inner voice whispered in my ear. At this moment it came as a relief to think it.

Chief Wilkie took out his pocket watch and checked it. “Ah, we will be coming into Philadelphia soon. I suggest you disembark and catch the next train back to New York. You’ll need money for the return ticket.” He reached into an inside pocket and drew out an envelope. “Advance against fees,” he said.

I nodded politely as if men handing me money in railway compartments was a usual business for me, and put the envelope into my purse.

“And everything is clear?”

“One more thing,” I said. “You have told me how to contact you if I find anything important. How do I contact your man if I find myself in danger?”

“My man should be within hailing distance at all times,” he said.

“You sent a man to watch over Houdini and he didn’t prove to be much assistance, did he?”

“Good point. But frankly I don’t expect this to take long. You’ll search the house. Either you’ll find something or you won’t. By tomorrow we should know. And there are constables on duty, guarding Mrs. Houdini, are there not?”

“There are.”

“Then go to the house and stay there until your assignment is complete,” he said. “But I really don’t think you are putting yourself in danger. You are staying with a dear friend at a time of distress. What could be more natural. And they’ll never be expecting us to use a woman.”

“I see,” I said. I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.

We were passing through the outskirts of a city—ragged wooden houses, then more orderly rows, then solid brick buildings as we neared the center. Then the train pulling up beside a platform.

“Good-bye then, and good luck, Miss Murphy.” Mr. Wilkie stood and held out his hand to me. I shook it. He took down my overnight bag and opened the door for me.

“If you hurry, I believe there is a train to New York in a few minutes. No need to purchase a ticket. If you choose a regular carriage you can pay the conductor on board. Tell him there was a family emergency and you had to return unexpectedly.”

“Thank you,” I said, before I paused to wonder why I was thanking him for anything. Does a kidnap victim usually thank her abductors for taking her out of her way, then laying a difficult task before her? As I stepped out of the carriage and accepted my bag from him I looked down platform to see where I should cross and saw someone I recognized shoving his way through the crowd. It was none other than the fair-haired and arrogant young man whom I had overheard talking with Houdini in the passageway at the theater.

“That man.” I hissed out the words, leaning close to Mr. Wilkie. “The fair one, coming toward us. He was talking with Houdini at the theater a few nights ago.”

“Was he? Interesting,” Wilkie replied and to my astonishment he waved.

The young man quickened his stride, passed me as if I didn’t exist, then went to haul himself into the carriage beside Wilkie.

“Sorry, sir. I was held up. All in order?” he said in polished tones of one educated at a good school.

“All in order,” Wilkie said. “I was just saying good-bye to this young lady. Miss Murphy, this is one of my associates, Mr. Anthony Smith.”

Mr. Smith tipped his hat to me politely.

“Aren’t all your associates called Mr. Smith?” I asked.

Wilkie laughed. “Valid point. But this one really is. This young lady has a rapier wit, Smith.”

The young man seemed to really notice me for the first time. He stared at me, obviously trying to recollect where he had seen me before. Then he said, “Should I close the door, sir? We’re about to be off.”

“I think so, Smith. The young lady will be leaving us here. Such a delightful journey, my dear. Enjoy yourself in Philadelphia.”

“Thank you, I will.”