The Floating Lady Murder (5 page)

“Now look,” said Collins. “Just because—”

But Harry wasn’t finished. “Moreover,” he continued, “I am well aware that the design of Mr. Maskelyne’s effect has
been a closely guarded secret, so it stands to reason that Mr. Kellar would have to devise his own method of achieving the illusion. When I come upon a theater that is rigged with an oversized pendulum apparatus high above the stage—which is clearly designed to lift an assistant out over the heads of the audience—I think it is fair to conclude that plans are underway for a new Floating Lady. Is it not so?”

The angry red color had slowly drained away from Collins’s face as Harry spoke. The easy-going grin had now returned. “What was your name again?” he asked.

“Houdini. The Great Houdini.”

“Well, Mr. Houdini, I guess I owe you an apology for the way I spoke before. It’s just that we’ve had trouble with spies before, and this effect—if we can just get a few hitches worked out—this effect will be the biggest thing since Pepper’s Ghost.”

Harry glanced at the elaborate pendulum device overhead. “I take it this swing-lever apparatus is not working as you’d hoped?”

“It’s been a disaster,” Collins admitted. “And that’s not the worst of it. Mr. Kellar is determined to debut his Floating Lady here on this stage next week, after a four-day try-out in Albany. Then he’s going to take it on the tour.”

“On tour?” Harry asked. “But Mr. Maskelyne has been advertising that his Egyptian Hall is the only place in the world where the Floating Lady effect can be seen.”

“Mr. Maskelyne is no concern to us,” Collins said coldly. “Our method will be entirely different. We won’t be affected by his copyrights.”

“So I understand, but that’s not what I meant. I had understood from Mr. Maskelyne’s statement that his apparatus was too ungainly to be moved from place to place. I assumed that he could only perform it at the Egyptian Hall because it couldn’t be moved from the theater.”

Collins studied Harry’s face closely. “You’re right,” he admitted, “although that is not generally known. In any case, it makes the
Maskelyne method useless for us. Mr. Kellar has always been a touring magician, and his latest itinerary is already set. We have to come up with a method that is easily moved over great distances.”

“Couldn’t you simply build a second apparatus in Albany?”

“No, Mr. Houdini, we’re taking it all over the world. Allahabad, Lucknow, Delphi, Agra, Cawnpore, Bombay, Kurachee, Baghdad, Zanzibar, Mozambique, Durban, Capetown, to name a few.”

Bess’s eyes had grown bright. “Do you mean to say that if we should find ourselves employed by Mr. Kellar, we would be travelling to all of those places?” She squeezed Harry’s hand tightly. “Think of it, Harry!”

Collins brushed a stray wisp of hair from his eyes. “To tell you the truth, Miss, I’m not sure any of us will be going anywhere. Not unless we get this thing off the drawing board.”

Harry gave a shrug. “I wish you every good fortune, Mr. Collins, but I confess that I have little confidence in your pendulum.” He took a step forward, craning his neck for a better view. “The assistant stands about here, yes? Then the pendulum swoops down—and she grabs hold of it in some fashion—whereupon it carries her high up over the heads of the audience and into the dome of the theater. Is that what you had in mind?”

Collins nodded.

“It would require a rather extraordinary young woman.”

“We have one. Miss Moore. We hired her away from a team of aerialists. She’s perfectly at ease on a circus high wire, so this will not present her with any difficulty. Quite a looker, too, I don’t mind telling you.”

“That may be the case, but how on earth are you planning to conceal the apparatus? Will it not be perfectly obvious that your young lady is clinging to an enormous pendulum?”

Collins frowned. “There’s the rub, Houdini. We’ve been working with the lighting and various arrangements of drop curtains, but nothing has worked so far. We’d hoped that Francesca would appear to be—”

“Who is Francesca?”

“Miss Moore. We were hoping to use her costume to help with the concealment. We’re calling the illusion “The Levitation of Princess Karnac” so that we can wrap her up in a great flowing Hindu-style outfit, complete with a veil and baggy pantaloons—just the type of thing to cover the apparatus. But the rehearsals have been terrible. It’s meant to appear as if she’s floating, gently, clear up to the dome of the theater, as if lifted by a gentle breeze.”

“And this effect was not achieved?”

“Not by a long shot. It looks as though she’s strapped to a barn door in a hurricane. The pendulum moves far too quickly, for one thing. And it creaks and groans like a rusty hinge. A child’s rope swing would come closer to achieving the desired impression.”

“I see.” Harry’s eyes were fixed on the strange-looking device. “You require a slow, steady ascent into the dome of the theater, is that it?”

“Yes,” said Collins. “But once we manage that, there’s the additional problem of concealing the pendulum from the audience.”

Harry rubbed his hands together. “Your problem is intriguing.”

“Have you tried counter-weighting the capstan?” I asked.

“We have.”

“Have you tried gear notches in the fulcrum?” Harry wondered.

Collins looked at us with renewed interest. “We did try notches,” he said, “though it took us two days to think of it. But it didn’t work. The motion was too jerky.”

Harry shook his head. “Then I don’t see how your Floating Lady can possibly be ready for Albany.”

Collins sighed. “It won’t be. Mr. Kellar is dead set on having it ready when we return here in four days, but it won’t be ready for Albany. That’s why we’ve brought in Boris.”

“Boris?” I asked.

“The lion.” He gestured at the caged beast as it sent up
another mighty roar. “Mr. Kellar is going to try something new—an effect called the Lion’s Bride. Quite a fascinating little trick, really, and it gives us a fine opportunity to make use of the skills of Miss Moore. She plays a young bride who is threatened by the lion. The curtain opens on—” He was interrupted by another energetic roar from the lion. “Damn thing is a real nuisance. Anyway, the curtain opens on—”

“Which one of you is Mr. Houdini?” We turned toward the house seats. Mr. McAdow, having apparently finished up his business, appeared to be ready for us.

“I am the Great Houdini,” my brother said, stepping forward. “I am the eclipsing sensation of—”

“Houdini, huh?” asked McAdow, sizing up my brother’s powerful build. “Are you a strongman, Mr. Houdini? We could use a strongman in the ‘Circus of Wonders’ illusion.”

By way of an answer, Harry stepped over to the wings and returned with three heavy sandbags. “Strong?” he asked, as he began to juggle the sandbags in an overhand passing pattern. “Yes, I believe I am reasonably strong.”

McAdow’s eyes widened. “Yes,” he agreed. “I should say that you are. And the young lady with you?”

“My lovely wife, Bess,” Harry said proudly. “She is my capable assistant as well as a talented singer and dancer. You may have noted her performance in—”

“Very good,” McAdow said. “And the tall fellow?”

“Dash Hardeen,” I said, tightening my grip on the brim of my hat. “I do a bit of magic, a bit of juggling. A bit of everything, in fact.”

“That’s fine,” said McAdow. “Leave your details with Collins. We’ll be in touch if we require your services.”

“Pardon?” said Harry.

“The girl and the tall one are presentable enough,” McAdow continued. “If we need a strongman, there may be something for all three of you.”

“A strongman?” Harry’s voice bristled with incredulity.
“The Great Houdini is no mere strongman! You insult me, sir! I have come here prepared to show Mr. Kellar a miracle of epic proportions, a sensation of such magnitude that it will—”

“You’ve brought a magic trick, then?”

Harry’s head snapped back as though he had scented a foul odor. “A magic trick,” he repeated, as if amused by the impertinence of the question. “Yes, a magic trick.”

McAdow glanced at his watch. “All right, then,” he said. “Be quick about it.”

“Now?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the footlights. “Do you mean to say that I will not be performing for Mr. Kellar himself? The Great Houdini is to perform for a mere functionary?”

“Sir,” came McAdow’s measured response, “as Mr. Kellar’s manager I am responsible for engaging his staff. Carry on, if you would.”

Bess laid a restraining hand on Harry’s forearm, but he would not be humored. “Are you a magician yourself, Mr. McAdow?” he called over the footlights. “I only ask because it requires a certain degree of refinement to appreciate the miracle you are about to see. It is said that only a true musician can appreciate the genius of Paderewski. So it is with Houdini. Houdini is entirely
sui generis.
So I must ask again—”

“I am in charge of the payroll, Mr. Houdini,” came the blunt answer. “Carry on, please.”

Harry sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Very well.” He turned upstage and helped me wrestle the trunk into position, frowning over the tumult of banging hammers behind us. “Harry,” Bess whispered. “Remember what we discussed earlier. Perform. Don’t talk.” She slipped out of her overcoat to reveal her stage costume, a wispy confection of bows and puffs that I had come to regard as her “sugarplum fairy” outfit. It allowed her a free range of movement and also showed her legs to great advantage, a fact which was not entirely lost on Mr. McAdow, who made a side-of-mouth comment to the
gentleman beside him. The younger man nodded, and made a note on his writing pad.

Much has been said and written of the Substitution Trunk Mystery, which is what we called it in those days. Soon enough the effect would be known throughout the world as “The Metamorphosis.” The basic effect was simple: Harry, tied in a sack and locked in a trunk, changed places in the blink of an eye with Bess, who had been standing outside. Bess was then revealed to be locked inside the trunk and tied in the sack. It’s quite likely that you have seen the Metamorphosis done by other, lesser performers. I’ll promise you this—you’ve never seen it done better. To this day I carry a newspaper article I wrote at that time in which I tried to convey the novelty and excitement of this incredible transposition:

The clever Mr. Houdini and his lovely wife first submit their travel-worn trunk to a careful inspection by volunteers from the audience. The four sides of the trunk are sounded to demonstrate their solidity and to prove the absence of trickery. Next, a six-foot black flannel bag, a length of heavy tape, and some sealing wax are passed for examination.

Mr. Houdini then asks his volunteers to encase him securely in the previously examined sack, and tightly bind the mouth of the sack with the heavy tape. To ensure fair play, the knots are then sealed with wax. Thus bound and trammelled, Mr. Houdini is lifted into the trunk, which in turn is padlocked and trussed with stout ropes. The sounds of knocking from within the trunk give proof that Mr. Houdini is still imprisoned within. A small curtained enclosure is wheeled before the trunk. Mrs. Houdini, standing at the open curtain, offers a brief announcement: “Now, then, I shall clap my hands three times, and at the third and last time I ask you to watch
closely
for—the—
effect
!” At this, she swiftly draws the curtain closed and vanishes from view. Instantaneously the curtain is reopened to show Mr. Houdini himself standing before the trunk.

The volunteers are immediately called forward to unlock and untie the trunk. Inside, Mrs. Houdini, her loveliness undiminished, is found imprisoned within the same sack which a moment earlier held her husband. The exchange occurs with such lightning rapidity that it leaves the audience almost too astonished to applaud

I had been Harry’s original partner in this effect, and I know from first-hand experience what a forceful impression this instantaneous transposition had upon our audiences. When Bess took my place following her marriage to Harry, the switch became even faster. The spectators literally could not believe their eyes.

This was to be the bedrock upon which my brother’s remarkable career was built. In those earliest days, however, there was one slight hitch. For all his skill, Harry had not yet learned the golden rule of the stage magician. He had not yet learned to shut up and do the trick.

Facing Mr. McAdow across the footlights, Harry cleared his throat and pulled at the points of his bow tie, a gesture he invariably made before launching into a monologue. My heart sank. If my brother followed his usual pattern, we were in for a five-minute peroration on the genius of Harry Houdini. And if Mr. McAdow adhered to the example set by his brethren in theatrical management, the audition would be over before we ever saw the effect.

“My dear friends,” said Harry, in that lulling drone of his, “this evening I am privileged to present a miracle of my own devising, an effect so stunning and original that there is only one man in the entire world capable of performing it. I ask you to steel your nerves against the frightful shock this effect may present, and do not look away even for an instant, or you are liable to miss the miracle that is the Substitution Trunk Mystery!” Harry threw one hand up toward the heavens, a gesture that traditionally invited applause. From his seat,
McAdow coughed discreetly into a pocket square.

Please, Harry,
I muttered to myself.
Just get on with it.

“From time immemorial, wizards and sorcerers have been captivated by the riddle of magically transposing one solid object with another. This afternoon, on this very stage, the Great Houdini will attempt this seemingly impossible feat with nothing more than a humble packing crate and a simple flannel sack. Is it possible, you ask? I assure you that it is.”

Now, Harry.
I pleaded under my breath.
Do the trick. And whatever you do, don’t mention ancient Mesopotamia.

“Long ago,” Harry continued, “in ancient Mesopotamia, there was a plucky young wizard by the name of Ari Ardeeni. It was said that young Ari had the power to transport himself from one place to the next in the twinkling of an eye! One moment he might be frolicking in a stream, and at the next instant he could be seen dancing atop the highest mountain! Stranger still, it was believed that this handsome conjuror possessed the ability to change places with any being of his choosing, at the merest snap of his fingers! With such a skill at his command, it was thought that young Ari might even be able to switch places with the king himself!”