at him.
Cartwright sighed. “Yes, I know, he’s very fashionable now. He just always picks such dreary subjects…” He waved his hand dismissively at the painting and gazed
appreciatively, almost lovingly, at the one he’d just hung on the wall. Clearly, he was satisfied with the exchange.
They dined that night without Edna, whose time was being monopolised once again by Archibald Leach. The sculptress seemed quite taken with the English actor.
When the meal was complete, they saw the evening out with brandy and cards. Daniel Cartwright insisted they play bridge. The Australians indulged their host’s choice as they were just
four. Cartwright explained trumps and tricks, bids and rubbers and they did their best to make a good fist of it, though they thought it a silly, overcomplicated game. They were quite pleased when
Edna returned—with a fifth player they would have to play poker.
With this in mind, they showed a great deal more interest than they might have otherwise in the events of her day with Leach. Edna sat down and pulled off her gloves. Rowland dealt her in.
“Oh no, Rowly, I just want to sleep… it’s been the most delightfully exhausting day.” Her eyes glistened dreamily.
“But we want to hear all about it,” Milton objected, looking sideways at Cartwright in case the American sought to resurrect the game of bridge. “Stay and tell us
everything… while you play a hand.”
Edna regarded him suspiciously, but then overcome by an enthusiasm for the as yet unopened Broadway musical, to which Leach had taken her, she picked up her cards. “They were rehearsing
some of the big dance numbers… I’ve never seen anything like it. Archie introduced me to the lovely man who played the lead—losing his hair he’s but the most extraordinary
dancer.”
“So what’s this show with the balding lead called, Ed?” Rowland asked as he took up his own hand.
“ Gay Divorce I believe. It was completely wonderful.”
“They’re expecting it to be a hit,” Cartwright agreed.
Edna continued to chat happily about her day discovering New York and, of course, Leach.
“Oh, you poor dear girl,” Cartwright consoled, his round face a picture of empathy and concern, as he refilled a large silver trimmed pipe. “You mustn’t let Archie break
your heart.”
Rowland smiled, Milton and Clyde laughed out loud.
Cartwright seemed aghast that they could be so callous.
Edna looked warmly at Cartwright. “Don’t worry, Danny—Archie’s very sweet… I think he’ll be quite sorry when I go. We’ll always be wonderful
friends.”
Milton rolled his eyes and Clyde muttered, “Poor bastard.” Rowland dealt again.
“So will you be joining us tomorrow evening?” Milton asked. “Or are you forsaking us again for that… actor?”
“What do you have planned tomorrow?” Edna asked, re-ordering her cards.
“We’re going to a séance,” Milton said casually.
“Did Annie…?” started Edna a little confused.
“No,” Rowland replied. “It was that Milatsky woman from the party. She was quite taken with Milton apparently.”
“Very perceptive, these clairvoyants,” Milton added.
“So she wants to introduce him to the dead?”
“You might say that.” Rowland pondered over a card.
“Tomorrow’s the 31st,” Milton informed the sculptress. “Halloween.”
“I know,” Edna returned. “It’s nice that we’ll see an American festival before we head home.”
“It’s also the anniversary of Houdini’s death,” Milton explained patiently.
“The magician?”
“The world’s greatest magician,” Cartwright corrected. “I saw one of his shows when I was a boy—amazing… quite thrilling.”
“It seems that the anniversary of his death gives rise to séances to summon the man himself,” Milton went on.
“But why?” Edna was still a little perplexed.
“Could be something to do with the ten thousand dollars his widow has offered to the medium who manages to contact
Cartwright sighed. “Yes, I know, he’s very fashionable now. He just always picks such dreary subjects…” He waved his hand dismissively at the painting and gazed
appreciatively, almost lovingly, at the one he’d just hung on the wall. Clearly, he was satisfied with the exchange.
They dined that night without Edna, whose time was being monopolised once again by Archibald Leach. The sculptress seemed quite taken with the English actor.
When the meal was complete, they saw the evening out with brandy and cards. Daniel Cartwright insisted they play bridge. The Australians indulged their host’s choice as they were just
four. Cartwright explained trumps and tricks, bids and rubbers and they did their best to make a good fist of it, though they thought it a silly, overcomplicated game. They were quite pleased when
Edna returned—with a fifth player they would have to play poker.
With this in mind, they showed a great deal more interest than they might have otherwise in the events of her day with Leach. Edna sat down and pulled off her gloves. Rowland dealt her in.
“Oh no, Rowly, I just want to sleep… it’s been the most delightfully exhausting day.” Her eyes glistened dreamily.
“But we want to hear all about it,” Milton objected, looking sideways at Cartwright in case the American sought to resurrect the game of bridge. “Stay and tell us
everything… while you play a hand.”
Edna regarded him suspiciously, but then overcome by an enthusiasm for the as yet unopened Broadway musical, to which Leach had taken her, she picked up her cards. “They were rehearsing
some of the big dance numbers… I’ve never seen anything like it. Archie introduced me to the lovely man who played the lead—losing his hair he’s but the most extraordinary
dancer.”
“So what’s this show with the balding lead called, Ed?” Rowland asked as he took up his own hand.
“ Gay Divorce I believe. It was completely wonderful.”
“They’re expecting it to be a hit,” Cartwright agreed.
Edna continued to chat happily about her day discovering New York and, of course, Leach.
“Oh, you poor dear girl,” Cartwright consoled, his round face a picture of empathy and concern, as he refilled a large silver trimmed pipe. “You mustn’t let Archie break
your heart.”
Rowland smiled, Milton and Clyde laughed out loud.
Cartwright seemed aghast that they could be so callous.
Edna looked warmly at Cartwright. “Don’t worry, Danny—Archie’s very sweet… I think he’ll be quite sorry when I go. We’ll always be wonderful
friends.”
Milton rolled his eyes and Clyde muttered, “Poor bastard.” Rowland dealt again.
“So will you be joining us tomorrow evening?” Milton asked. “Or are you forsaking us again for that… actor?”
“What do you have planned tomorrow?” Edna asked, re-ordering her cards.
“We’re going to a séance,” Milton said casually.
“Did Annie…?” started Edna a little confused.
“No,” Rowland replied. “It was that Milatsky woman from the party. She was quite taken with Milton apparently.”
“Very perceptive, these clairvoyants,” Milton added.
“So she wants to introduce him to the dead?”
“You might say that.” Rowland pondered over a card.
“Tomorrow’s the 31st,” Milton informed the sculptress. “Halloween.”
“I know,” Edna returned. “It’s nice that we’ll see an American festival before we head home.”
“It’s also the anniversary of Houdini’s death,” Milton explained patiently.
“The magician?”
“The world’s greatest magician,” Cartwright corrected. “I saw one of his shows when I was a boy—amazing… quite thrilling.”
“It seems that the anniversary of his death gives rise to séances to summon the man himself,” Milton went on.
“But why?” Edna was still a little perplexed.
“Could be something to do with the ten thousand dollars his widow has offered to the medium who manages to contact
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