What followed were some complicated diagrams, a device shaped like a large bullet with what looked like flower petals at one end, with arrows around it, and tiny words scribbled in another language.
“Underwater illusion,” I said. “That sounds ambitious. Does he do an underwater stunt?”
“No. He’s talked about doing one for some time—using a milk churn, I believe. I didn’t want him to think about it because it’s so dangerous. But he got this bee in his bonnet on the way home from Germany. He was sitting in the cabin for hours, working away at it. I asked him about it but he didn’t want to talk. He’s like that sometimes when he’s concentrating. Wouldn’t even come to the dining saloon for meals. I told him I didn’t want him doing any trick that involved being underwater. Too dangerous. Other magicians have talked about doing it, but nobody’s had the courage yet to pull it off.”
“I don’t see how this would work anyway,” I said, putting it aside and moving on to the next thing. “It looks more like some kind of machine. How would he use a machine underwater? Maybe he plans to escape from—”
I broke off, picking up the sketch again and examining it more carefully. There was a hatch on top of it that opened. The amazing underwater trick. Had Houdini fooled us all and planned his escape from the East River using such a contraption, leaving his trunk floating to make us think he was dead? Was this in fact a design for an underwater machine? Did such things exist? I wondered if this was something that Mr. Wilkie would want to know about. And it didn’t make sense that Houdini had planned his own escape, seeing that one of Mr. Wilkie’s men was dead and Houdini was working with him. Unless he was the one working for both sides. I remembered the passage he had written about illusionists working on both sides of the stage and deceiving everyone. I glanced up at Bess. Everything I was discovering seemed to be worse and worse news for her.
I resolved to sleep on it and decide whether to tell Mr. Wilkie in the morning. I went through the rest of the suitcase then closed it again, making sure I locked it.
“That’s that, then,” I said. “Nothing more of interest in here.”
“Other illusionists wouldn’t say that,” Bess said. “They’d kill for the contents of that suitcase.” She realized what she had said and put her hand up to her mouth. “Do you think that’s what happened, Molly? Then we’re not safe here if that’s what they want.”
“There is a police constable on guard outside and a good sturdy front door,” I said. “I’m going to make sure you get a good night’s sleep.”
I took her tray from her, carried it downstairs, and found Houdini’s mother in the kitchen, now making what looked like some kind of bread.
“You see, Bess finished every drop,” I said. “You must make good soup.”
“Try for yourself,” she said, nodding at the stove. I needed no second invitation but filled a big bowl and wolfed it down. Mrs. Weiss obviously approved of a good appetite as she then produced some plum dumplings and some honey cake.
“You’re a wonderful cook, Mrs. Weiss,” I said. “You must miss your son when he’s away.”
“I stay with other son—Leopold, and with daughter, Gladys,” she said. “They like when I cook food from old country for them.”
“You’re lucky to have such a nice big family,” I told her.
“You have no family?”
“I had a father and three brothers. My mother died when I was a child. Now my father and one of my brothers are dead, and I don’t know when I’ll ever see the other two brothers again.”
“Life is hard,” she said. “But you are healthy young girl. You get married, no?”
“Yes, I’m getting married soon,” I said.
“Your young man. He has good steady work?”
“Yes, he’s—” I broke off. Of course I couldn’t let her know he was a policeman. “He’s got a good job,” I finished. “He’ll take good care of me.”
“That is as should be. Show business. Pah! My son make lots of money, but what kind of life, huh? Never know where you will be tomorrow. And always danger. And now—who knows if he is still alive.” Her voice broke as she said these last words.
I surprised myself by going over and putting an arm around her. “We can only hope for the best,” I said. “I