The cake plate held only crumbs by the time Madame Ostrova sat back and eyed Nutall and Thalia keenly. “This is all very nice, a pleasant interlude. You came for a reason. What is it?”
“Von Faber does the Bullet Catch.” Nutall put his cup and saucer down. “Jack Cutler did the Bullet Catch. Now Thalia does it too.”
Madame Ostrova considered her guests. “What would stage magic be if magicians did not learn tricks from one another?”
“As well try to stop the spread of a popular song as the interpretation of a good trick, I agree.” Nutall leaned forward as he lowered his voice. “The Cadwallader Syndicate, for some reason, has chosen to grant our friend a noncompete clause. His contract keeps our Bullet Catch out of any syndicate theater.”
Madame Ostrova gave a minute shrug of her narrow shoulders. “Lawyers ruin this world. May they all eat each other. I’m sorry for your misfortune, very sorry. Understand. Von Faber is a client here, just like you. We’re building a new trick for him, a mirror box. I won’t take your side against his.”
“Nor would we expect it of you,” Nutall said smoothly. “I’ve brought the inventory of tricks we have in storage here. We’ve been told that Von Faber’s Bullet Catch is identical to ours. I wonder how that came to happen. I know from firsthand experience that Von Faber has stolen props before.”
“Stop.” Madame Ostrova held up one many-ringed hand. “Do you suggest that tricks and props you pay to store here are less than safe and secure?”
“Certainly not.” Nutall’s air of injured innocence was perfect. “I do, however, suggest that we compare this inventory to the tricks in storage here.”
“Another reason to check the inventory,” Thalia offered, “is to see what other tricks we might use in the act. There must be something that doesn’t duplicate Von Faber’s routine.”
Madame Ostrova opened a drawer of her desk and produced a massive ring of keys. “We go look.”
Again, Thalia trailed after Madame Ostrova and Nutall, this time through the tidy bustle of the shipping area, where mail orders were packed. The corridor turned again, taking them past the door to the Palace of Mystery, the Ostrova Magic Company’s private theater, used for demonstrations and rehearsals. Beyond that, they came to a locked door. Madame Ostrova opened it to reveal a flight of steps that led down to the cellar.
“Down there?” Nutall looked surprised. “When this inventory was made, all the Cutler tricks were stored on this floor.”
“Down there is the safest storage we have.” Madame Ostrova coughed a little as she punched the button of the electric-light switch and led them down the steep steps. “This is most secure.”
“A bit damp, isn’t it?” Nutall ventured.
“Perhaps.” Madame Ostrova turned to fix him with a pointed stare. “Cheaper, though. How far behind on storage fees are you now? Fifteen dollars?”
“Madame Ostrova, I distinctly recall that we settled the outstanding balance on our account the last time we were here,” Nutall countered.
“Two years ago. When account was ninety days overdue, we moved your stuff down here. We keep a copy of the inventory too. I checked. It is all here.”
“Has it truly been that long?” Nutall murmured. “Oh, so it has.”
Even with both the electric lights on, the cellar was full of shadows. The space had been divided into two rows of storage units divided with rough-cut boards and wire fencing material.
Three cages along, Madame Ostrova paused to open the lock on the door marked “C.” “We conduct inventory, then you pay us so your account is up to date.”
“Naturally we will pay,” agreed Nutall. “Plus a little something on account, hm?”
“Twenty percent,” Madame Ostrova stated.
Nutall was the picture of wounded surprise. “That’s a bit stiff, isn’t it?”
Madame Ostrova smiled at him. “Punishment. Next time, no waiting two years before you come back here for tea and cake.”
Nutall smiled back. “Agreed.”
Chapter Five
The inventory nearly checked out. Only one item was missing. The original Bullet Catch, as Thalia’s father had performed it, had used a “volunteer” firing squad. In its fullest form, the trick involved catching bullets from six specially adapted muzzle-loading rifles. One had been sold to a collector. Soon enough the difficulty of finding and discreetly paying five suitable volunteers had brought the number of muzzle-loaders used onstage down to three. Then two. Finally, one bullet was all the magician caught.
When Thalia had performed the trick, she’d done it with the weapon her father had favored. The other four rifles had remained