“Attempted murder?” The theater manager looked aghast. “An accident, surely. A horrible accident.”
“The illusionist claims his equipment was tampered with. I have to therefore treat this as an attempted murder. Now, someone, go and find the nearest policeman.” He pointed at a pimply-faced youth standing staring in horror-struck fascination nearby. “You, boy.”
“Very good, Captain, sir,” the youth said. “I know where to find the nearest constable.” He ran off the stage, his footsteps clattering on the wooden floor and echoing through the backstage area.
“Someone get blankets and cover her,” the doctor commanded. “She’s going cold. We’re going to lose her before she makes it to the nearest hospital.”
“Here, she can have my wrap,” I said.
They looked up at me as if they had noticed me for the first time.
“Young lady, you shouldn’t be here,” the manager said. “This is no place for a delicate, young woman like yourself.”
“I’m with Captain Sullivan,” I said, “and I’ve seen worse than this before.”
I saw Daniel give me a look of annoyance. “I think the man is right, Molly. You should go on home. I’ll have one of these lads find you a cab. I may be quite a while yet.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll stay,” I said. “There may be something useful for me to do.”
“I really don’t think—” Daniel said, now giving me a clear look that said, “I want you to obey me for once, without a fuss.”
“Young woman, there is nothing you can do. Go home,” the doctor snapped at me. “The less people around her the better.”
I decided that there was no point in causing a scene or annoying Daniel at this stage. There really was nothing I could do here and why would I want to stay around watching some poor girl bleed to death? In truth I was feeling a little queasy.
“All right,” I said. “I don’t want to be in the way here.”
“That’s my girl.” Daniel gave me a relieved smile. “Would one of you go and hail Miss Murphy a cab? I see some of my men.” He went down the steps to meet several police constables who had just entered the theater.
Another stagehand departed. I was about to follow him when I heard fast-approaching feet coming toward the stage and a small, muscular, dark-haired man appeared, followed by a pretty, petite girl, dressed in a page-boy costume with tights.
“What’s this all about?” the man demanded. “I’ve just been told that the show’s been canceled.” He approached the manager, his dark eyes flashing in dramatic manner, as he was in full makeup.
I recognized him at once as Harry Houdini, the handcuff king, the man we had come to see. Daniel had been following his career with fascination ever since he presented himself at police headquarters several years ago and challenged the police to produce handcuffs from which he could not escape. They had not succeeded.
“That’s right, Mr. Houdini,” the manager said. “I’m afraid there’s been a nasty accident and I had no choice but to send the audience home.”
“You had no right to do that,” the small man stormed. I noticed that he spoke with a slight foreign accent. “They came to see me, you know. You have deprived them of their one chance to see the greatest illusionist in the business. These others are merely amateurs.”
“Who are you calling an amateur?” Scarpelli demanded, turning to face Houdini. “I’ve been in this business more years than you’ve had hot dinners. Just because you headlined once on the Orpheum Circuit, and just because you’ve had a bit of success over on the Continent, don’t think you’ve come back here to act the big star.”
“But I am the big star,” Houdini said, spreading his arms dramatically. “All over Europe I have entertained kings and emperors. Tsar Nicholas of Russia tried to persuade me to stay on at court as his personal adviser. I’m only home for a couple of weeks and now my debut in New York has been ruined by a little accident.”
“Little accident?” the theater manager began, staring at Houdini with distaste. “My dear sir, we are talking about a great tragedy here. . . .”
The pretty girl put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t upset yourself so, Harry. There will be other nights. The audience will come back tomorrow, and . . .” She had now apparently noticed the box with Lily in it for the first time and let out a shriek of horror. “Oh, my God, Harry. She’s really