deck.” Rammage produced a pack of cards, handing it to Houdini. “In England, it’s called ‘Instanto.’ The invention of one Billy O’Conner. Bills himself as the ‘King of Kards.’ “
“Easy enough. I was a card king myself once upon a time back in the nineties.” Houdini opened the pack, fanning the cards with a deft flourish. “What’s the gag?”
“The deck is rigged. You can call any card before you cut to it.”
“Marked edges?”
“No. It’s a variation on Walter Gibson’s ‘New Spelling Trick.’ I thought you might like to have it for your collection.”
“Very thoughtful of you, Rammage. Many thanks.” Houdini slipped the deck into his pocket. The lobby lights blinked off and on.
“Don’t mention it. There’s the warning. Better get to our seats.” Rammage gave a short bow. “Delighted to have met you at long last, Mrs. Houdini.” The bald man turned to leave, then paused, seemingly on the spur of the moment. “Say, Harry. You’re friends with Conan Doyle, aren’t you?”
“I have that distinct honor,” Houdini replied.
“Think you might introduce me to him?” Rammage twisted his lips into an expression more grimace than smile, as if even he found his servile toadying unpleasant.
Houdini felt trapped by the slight weight of the trick deck in his jacket pocket. Rammage bought this requested favor cheaply and he resented him for it. “Sir Arthur and Lady Conan Doyle are to be my guests at the S.A.M. banquet,” he said without enthusiasm. “I’ll present you to him then at the McAlpin.”
“Righty-o.” Rammage clicked his heels and hurried off into the dwindling crowd.
The magician and his wife followed an usher down the aisle. With every seat taken, the capacity audience numbered over thirty-five hundred. An almost palpable heat filled the thirty-year-old concert hall.
“What a distasteful little man.” Bess broke a tense silence.
“An utter cad,” Houdini agreed as they sat down.
“Why do you put up with him?”
“Politics.”
She patted his arm. “Harry, dear, you were never much good as a politician.”
“Nor am I getting any better at it now. Rammage is secretary of the Society and I must treat him square, although I opposed his nomination. Fate is a curious thing, Bessie. Before he left England for keeps, Sidney Rammage performed as Ali ben Haroun, the Wizard of the Rif.”
Concentration creased her brow as she sifted through memories twenty years old. “Wasn’t he the one who…?”
“The very same. Tried to steal my thunder with a handcuff challenge act during our first European tour.”
“I thought he was supposed to be some kind of Bedouin.”
“He was an Arab like William Ellsworth Robinson was a Chinaman. A little greasepaint turns any man into the League of Nations.”
“Too bad Rammage didn’t do a bullet-catching act.” Bess referred to Robinson’s accidental death onstage five years earlier while performing as Chung Ling Soo.
“Mike …” Using his wife’s nickname softened Houdini’s stern moral tone. “Dear, sweet Mike… . Never wish evil on another. Remember what Mama said.” The houselights dimmed as the curtain rose. All around them, the murmuring of the audience fell away to an expectant hush.” ‘Every dark thought returns to your heart,’ “ he whispered,” ‘as surely as swallows return in the spring.’ “
Pale blue light bathed the stage area. A committee of dignitaries sat like a small congregation behind the podium, their features barely visible in the crepuscular dim.
“Who are they?” Bess’s breath tickled Houdini’s ear.
“Well-known mediums.” The magician strained to make out the faces. “There’s Leonora Piper …” He held his breath when he recognized Opal Crosby Fletcher. “… and V. T. Podmord …”
“Isn’t the woman in black that Isis person?”
Houdini cleared his throat with a half-cough. “I … believe you’re right.”
“You’d think she wouldn’t have
“Easy enough. I was a card king myself once upon a time back in the nineties.” Houdini opened the pack, fanning the cards with a deft flourish. “What’s the gag?”
“The deck is rigged. You can call any card before you cut to it.”
“Marked edges?”
“No. It’s a variation on Walter Gibson’s ‘New Spelling Trick.’ I thought you might like to have it for your collection.”
“Very thoughtful of you, Rammage. Many thanks.” Houdini slipped the deck into his pocket. The lobby lights blinked off and on.
“Don’t mention it. There’s the warning. Better get to our seats.” Rammage gave a short bow. “Delighted to have met you at long last, Mrs. Houdini.” The bald man turned to leave, then paused, seemingly on the spur of the moment. “Say, Harry. You’re friends with Conan Doyle, aren’t you?”
“I have that distinct honor,” Houdini replied.
“Think you might introduce me to him?” Rammage twisted his lips into an expression more grimace than smile, as if even he found his servile toadying unpleasant.
Houdini felt trapped by the slight weight of the trick deck in his jacket pocket. Rammage bought this requested favor cheaply and he resented him for it. “Sir Arthur and Lady Conan Doyle are to be my guests at the S.A.M. banquet,” he said without enthusiasm. “I’ll present you to him then at the McAlpin.”
“Righty-o.” Rammage clicked his heels and hurried off into the dwindling crowd.
The magician and his wife followed an usher down the aisle. With every seat taken, the capacity audience numbered over thirty-five hundred. An almost palpable heat filled the thirty-year-old concert hall.
“What a distasteful little man.” Bess broke a tense silence.
“An utter cad,” Houdini agreed as they sat down.
“Why do you put up with him?”
“Politics.”
She patted his arm. “Harry, dear, you were never much good as a politician.”
“Nor am I getting any better at it now. Rammage is secretary of the Society and I must treat him square, although I opposed his nomination. Fate is a curious thing, Bessie. Before he left England for keeps, Sidney Rammage performed as Ali ben Haroun, the Wizard of the Rif.”
Concentration creased her brow as she sifted through memories twenty years old. “Wasn’t he the one who…?”
“The very same. Tried to steal my thunder with a handcuff challenge act during our first European tour.”
“I thought he was supposed to be some kind of Bedouin.”
“He was an Arab like William Ellsworth Robinson was a Chinaman. A little greasepaint turns any man into the League of Nations.”
“Too bad Rammage didn’t do a bullet-catching act.” Bess referred to Robinson’s accidental death onstage five years earlier while performing as Chung Ling Soo.
“Mike …” Using his wife’s nickname softened Houdini’s stern moral tone. “Dear, sweet Mike… . Never wish evil on another. Remember what Mama said.” The houselights dimmed as the curtain rose. All around them, the murmuring of the audience fell away to an expectant hush.” ‘Every dark thought returns to your heart,’ “ he whispered,” ‘as surely as swallows return in the spring.’ “
Pale blue light bathed the stage area. A committee of dignitaries sat like a small congregation behind the podium, their features barely visible in the crepuscular dim.
“Who are they?” Bess’s breath tickled Houdini’s ear.
“Well-known mediums.” The magician strained to make out the faces. “There’s Leonora Piper …” He held his breath when he recognized Opal Crosby Fletcher. “… and V. T. Podmord …”
“Isn’t the woman in black that Isis person?”
Houdini cleared his throat with a half-cough. “I … believe you’re right.”
“You’d think she wouldn’t have
Similar Books
