Harry spent a few further moments arranging the details before he took his place at the table. With his customary fastidiousness he pulled the sheer cloth screens into position, set the music box playing, and laid out the chalk slate at the center of the table. Only then did Harry lock and bolt the door from the inside and settle himself into the chair between Mrs. Clairmont and Lieutenant Murray.
“From the beginning, this affair has presented us with several difficult challenges, each of which led inevitably to still greater challenges,” Harry said, gazing round the table with an expression of quiet confidence. “How was the crime done? Which of us could have done it? Why should anyone wish to kill Mr. Grange? And perhaps most troubling of all, why would anyone choose to do so in a room filled with people? If one wished to kill Mr. Grange, would it not make better sense to do so when one had him alone?”
“We are all acquainted with the difficulties of the case, Houdini,” said Dr. Wells from his place between Brunson and Kenneth Clairmont. “We’ve all had our disagreements with Edgar, but I can’t believe that one of us should have gone so far as to wish him dead.”
“Apparently someone did,” Harry said with satisfaction, “and it is now my pleasure to demonstrate how it was done. First, it is essential that we recreate the steps leading up to the dreadful event. As you will recall, the evening began with a harmonizing of energies. This took the form of a message-reading exercise conducted by our esteemed friend Mr. Craig.”
“We remember that perfectly well, Houdini,” said Kenneth. “You showed us how it was done immediately afterwards. It was very instructive.”
Lucius Craig spoke up instantly. “On the contrary,” he said, fighting against a rising tide of emotion, “it was not instructive at all. At best it might possibly be described as amusing. As I have already endeavored to explain, however, Mr. Houdini’s ability to create the appearance of a spirit effect is not the same thing as producing the effect itself. It is merely a copy of a genuine manifestation.”
“Lucius is correct, of course,” said Mrs. Clairmont. “Mr. Houdini is a capable performer. Nothing more.”
Harry folded his hands. “That was precisely the point I had hoped to make, Mrs. Clairmont,” he said, “though I am afraid that I did so in an unpardonably clumsy manner. I had sought to demonstrate that Mr. Craig’s effects could be duplicated by a gifted performer such as myself. In the course of doing so, I succeeded only in wounding your feelings. For this I apologize. However, the point I was endeavoring to make is a valid one. A great man once said that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
“That’s very good,” said Kenneth. “Goethe?”
“Sherlock Holmes,” my brother answered. “My little display was nothing more than an attempt to show that we had not entirely eliminated the impossible. I presented it purely in the interests of sportsmanship, of course.”
“Of course,” said Kenneth, drily.
“Houdini,” said Lieutenant Murray, “what does this have to do with the murder of Edgar Grange?”
“Everything,” my brother answered. “Simply put, I am not the same man I was when I first came to this house. We have all been affected by the tragedy of Mr. Grange’s death, and I have had cause to reexamine my attitudes toward Mr. Craig and his mediumship. The results of my studies have been both unsettling and provocative.”
“What can you mean, Houdini?” Kenneth asked. “The man is a trickster! You said so yourself!”
“A great many things were said. The time for words has ended. With the kind permission of Mr. Craig and Mrs. Clairmont, I should like to show you what I have since learned to be true.”
The medium reached for his snuff bottle. “I am, of course, delighted to hear that you have moderated your tone of antipathy toward me and my beliefs,” he said carefully. “If you wish it, I should be happy to assist in opening your eyes to the wonders of the spirit realm. I fail to see, however, why your spiritual salvation requires the presence of a police lieutenant.”
“I hope that will become apparent soon enough,” Harry said. “For the moment, with your permission, I should like to recreate the circumstances of the other night as closely as possible. In a moment, we will form a circle by grasping hands. As before, let us also be certain that our feet are touching.” He turned to his right. “In fact, Lieutenant Murray, I wish you to be absolutely certain that there is no possibility that I am able to use my feet in any way. Place your foot securely on my instep. Mrs. Clairmont, please do the same. I must be held under the strictest control at all times.”
Harry glanced around the table, satisfying himself that all was in readiness. “Just this once, shall we leave the lights up for our demonstration? I would hate for anyone to think that I was taking advantage of the cover of darkness to work some unseen advantage.”
“The spirits are repelled by the light,” said Craig stiffly. “That is the reason that I work in darkness.”
“Be that as it may,” said Harry, “we are all sensitive to what happened the last time the lights were turned out in this room. In view of that unfortunate occurrence, I think that we may allow some illumination. By the same token, it will not be necessary to bind me to this chair. With the lights up, you will be able to see plainly that I am not using my arms in any way. Moreover, I am an acknowledged master of escape, and no mere ropes could possibly hold me a prisoner. All right, then. Might I borrow that chalk slate?”
Kenneth lifted the chalk slate from the center of the table and held it out to Harry.
“No,” said my brother, holding up his palms. “I do not even wish to touch the slate. There must be no possibility of trickery of any kind. Dr. Wells, I would like for you to examine it carefully, satisfying yourself that there are no hidden flaps or other concealments.”
Wells rapped at the wooden frame with his knuckles and shook the slate at his ear to listen for any loose pieces. “Perfectly ordinary,” he said.
“Good,” said Harry. “Now, if I might ask you to place the slate beneath the table—at my feet. Thank you. Let us now join hands, and please be certain that my feet are also under control.”
Once again Lucius Craig raised his voice in protest. “You speak of the spirit circle as though it were only a means of insuring against fraud,” he said, with a rising note of irritation. “We join hands at the séance table in order to pool our psychic energy, to serve as a beacon to the other world.” He glanced at Mrs. Clairmont, receiving a sympathetic nod in return.
“Mr. Craig is quite right,” she said in a reproving tone. “Mr. Houdini, I will not permit antagonism in this room. It disturbs the ether.”
“That is not my intention,” Harry said. “However, it is my nature as a performer to establish safeguards. When I am doing a card trick, for example, it is vitally important to establish that the spectator has had a free selection of cards when he makes his choice. Otherwise, the trick is ruined afterwards. The audience is likely to say, ‘Oh, he made him pick the card he wanted.’”
“This is not a card trick,” Craig said firmly.
“No, but our instincts are much the same. If we establish that my hands and feet are under control, there will be no one coming forward afterwards to claim that I simply cheated.”
Craig did not appear satisfied with this attempt at appeasement, but he nodded brusquely and waved at Harry to continue. My brother placed his hands upon the table and indicated that the rest of us should do the same. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed and fervent, as though in a house of worship.
“My friends,” he began, “you must forgive me if I falter or appear uncertain in what I am about to attempt. I do not claim to have Mr. Craig’s long experience in these matters. First, I must gather my energies. Please assist me by remaining silent.” With this, Harry closed his eyes and began humming in what might charitably be called a tuneless fashion. After a few moments the humming escalated. Harry’s neck muscles clenched and his jaw tighten
ed, as though some private drama were playing out behind his closed lids. Mrs. Clairmont cast an anxious glance at Dr. Wells, who merely shrugged. Abruptly, Harry brought his caterwauling to a crescendo. “I believe my inner forces are properly aligned,” he declared, opening his eyes. “I am ready to begin. Mrs. Clairmont, I must ask you to place your confidence in me, to follow my commands precisely no matter how strange they might seem. Will you do this for me?”
“Your commands?” she asked uneasily.
“You have seen me do some remarkable things in this room. Tonight, we must ascend to a new plane. We are endeavoring to contact the spirit of your departed husband. I cannot attempt such a feat without your complete and unquestioning cooperation. I must ask you to join your thoughts with mine as we journey together beyond the dark veil. Will you do this?”
Mrs. Clairmont studied my brother’s earnest face. “I shall try,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation.
Harry nodded encouragingly. “I assure you that it will be most rewarding. We must all close our eyes now. Close them tightly and keep them closed, no matter what you might hear. Listen to the sound of my voice, Mrs. Clairmont. Attempt to let your thoughts join with mine. Try to see what I see. There is much darkness and confusion, but as we grow accustomed to our new surroundings, we will begin to perceive the outlines of familiar shapes and objects. A strange and new form of light begins to shine upon us. It is as though our souls are journeying forward while our physical forms remain here, anchored to one another by the merest touch of human fingertips. Do not dare to break contact even for a moment, for it is only the integrity of our spirit circle that preserves the tether between our world and the next. Above all, your eyes must remain tightly closed.”
A glance around the table showed that the others were, in fact, keeping their eyes shut as they concentrated on my brother’s voice. By contrast, Harry’s eyes were wide open, and he sat grinning at me with high amusement, even as his voice maintained its grave tenor.
“The light brightens as we push forward to the fateful portal,” he continued, winking at me, “and we begin to apprehend movement in the distance. Could this be my spirit guide? Let us move closer. Why, yes, I seem to recognize him. It is my old—” Harry gave a sudden lurching movement that knocked the table forward several inches. The others opened their eyes in alarm and saw my brother’s entire body tense and spasm in the most disconcerting fashion.
“Mr. Houdini!” called Mrs. Clairmont. “Dr. Wells! Is he unwell? Mr. Hardeen, shall we—?”
“I believe my brother has made contact with his spirit guide,” I said, wishing silently that Harry were not quite so given to histrionics.
By now Harry’s head had slumped forward onto the table, although he maintained his grip on the hands of Mrs. Clairmont and Lieutenant Murray. For a moment the only sound to break the silence was my brother’s heavy, ragged breathing. Then, slowly, his head rose from the table. The entire aspect of his face had changed. There was an expression of genial amusement that I had never seen before. He cleared his throat.
“Guten Abend, meine sehr verehrten Damen und Herren,” he said, in a voice totally unlike his own. He looked about with kindly eyes, smiling at our confusion. “Ah!” he said. “You do not understand. I speak English for you, yes? Very goot.” The voice was deeper and richly accented with Germanic rhythms not unlike those of our late father. I looked at Harry in surprise. He was entirely transformed. His normally erect bearing was now slumped and weary, with the stiff, heavy movements of a much older man. “Allow me to introduce myself, please,” Harry continued in the unfamiliar voice. “I am Herr Nicholas Osey, the spirit guide of your young friend, Mr. Houdini. You are confused, yes? I explain. It is not impossible—wait—a moment while I gather myself, please. The transition has required more energy than I thought.”
Harry’s head slumped forward and his labored breathing slowed. I looked around the table and saw that each member of the circle—including Lucius Craig—was staring at my brother with absolutely rapt attention. Harry’s eyes fluttered open after a moment, and he raised his head once more. “Please forgive my momentary weakness. It requires a great deal of energy to break through the spirit veil. I am unaccustomed to it. It is only the remarkable stamina of young Mr. Houdini which enables me to make the attempt. He is quite an extraordinary young man. Destined for great things, I predict.”
Harry turned to Mrs. Clairmont, as though seeing her for the first time. “You are the charming hostess of this gathering, are you not?”
Mrs. Clairmont nodded, uncertain how to respond.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Your husband is a fine fellow. He has told me much about you.”
“My—my husband? Is he with you? Oh, if—”
“I fear not. He is new to our plane and not yet able to manifest himself in a form that you might comprehend. But I assure you that he is well and sends his glad wishes.”
Mrs. Clairmont’s hand fluttered to her throat, and almost instantly Harry’s head slumped forward and the labored breathing resumed. “Th-the circle,” he gasped in his familiar voice, “you must not break the circle—”
Mrs. Clairmont let out a cry and grasped Harry’s hand once more. Slowly, my brother appeared to rouse himself, and the aspect of Herr Osey returned to his features.
“Forgive me,” said Mrs. Clairmont. “I was momentarily overcome.”
“Quite all right, dear lady,” came the voice of Herr Osey. “It is not every day that such things occur, no? But I must be brief. Strong as he is, the brave young Mr. Houdini cannot stand the strain of this exertion for much longer. Even now I feel his noble life force draining away as he struggles manfully to preserve the link.”
“But—but my husband!” cried Mrs. Clairmont. “Is there a message? When may I see him?”
For a moment Harry appeared to have lost consciousness. His head rolled back and a tight choking sound gurgled from his throat. With an effort, he mastered himself. “A message has been sent, dear lady. Until we meet again. Auf Wiedersehen, meine lieben Freunde.” With a heavy sigh, Harry slumped forward onto the table and lay still.
“Mr. Houdini? Mr. Houdini?” Mrs. Clairmont patted Harry’s hand. “Are you all right, Mr. Houdini?”
With a faint groan, Harry began to stir. “What—what happened? I feel—I feel so strange.”
I glanced at Lucius Craig, whose expression was one of mingled annoyance and admiration. As I watched, he appeared to reach a decision over some private matter.
“Mr. Houdini,” he said heartily, “you appear to have made contact with the other side. My congratulations, sir. You have a very singular gift. With the proper training, you might well become one of the most powerful mediums of the next century.”
“Do you really think so?” Harry asked, as if struggling to shake off the effects of his ordeal. “But I don’t even remember what happened! Was there any message from Mr. Clairmont?”
Mrs. Clairmont clasped Harry’s hand. “Your spirit guide spoke of a message, but I’m afraid it was all rather vague. It seems to have been lost in the strain of your effort.”
“Was it?” Harry stood and stretched his limbs. “Such a pity. I wonder if—look!” He pointed a finger at his feet. “The spirit slate!”
Kenneth Clairmont was on his feet in an instant. He bent down and scooped up the slate, holding it aloft for all to see. A single word was scrawled upon the surface.
“‘Always,’” read Kenneth. “Not much of a message.”
“Hardly,” agreed Dr. Wells. “It seems the sort of vague—Augusta! What’s the matter?”
Mrs. Clairmont had risen from her chair and staggered away from the table. She might well have slipped to the floor if Harry had not sprung forward to catch her. “Mrs. Clairmont!” he cried with genuine concern in his voice. “Are you all right? I did not mean to—”
“I—I’m fine, thank you,” she answered, as Harry and Brunson helped her to a divan by the bookcases. “Forgive me. It’s just—
it’s just that—”
Dr. Wells stepped to the sideboard and poured a measure of brandy into a snifter. “Take a bit of this, Augusta,” he said gently.
“Thank you, Richardson. I feel so foolish.”
Harry appeared truly distraught. “Mrs. Clairmont, this was unforgivable of me. I am terribly sorry for your distress.”
She smiled warmly at him. “But my dear Mr. Houdini, I am delighted, don’t you see?” She set down the brandy snifter and began to twist at the wedding ring on her third finger. “You see? ‘Always’ is the word engraved on the inside of my ring! Do you realize what this means? Your message could only have come from my dear husband!”
Kenneth Clairmont looked at my brother in wonder while Dr. Wells and Sterling Foster examined the ring. Lucius Craig nodded his head sagely, as though he had somehow orchestrated the miracle.
“Extraordinary, Houdini!” cried Kenneth.
“How remarkable that Mr. Houdini should have come to us as a skeptic,” said Mrs. Clairmont, replacing the ring on her finger. “It is marvelous to see the flowering of such a vigorous new medium.”
“Astonishing,” agreed Dr. Wells. “I was inclined to dismiss all of this business as claptrap, but in the face of this I must admit—”
Harry held up a hand for silence. “It is claptrap,” he said quietly. “Complete and utter claptrap.”
“What!”
“How do you mean?”
“It was a trick,” my brother said. “I did this to show you what may be done along these lines by a clever magician. There is nothing at all supernatural in what has just transpired.”
Mrs. Clairmont clutched at her ring. “But how—”
“Mr. Houdini,” said Lucius Craig, seeking to regain command of the situation, “I well understand how you might hesitate to acknowledge the onset of such a tremendous and intimidating new gift. It is quite natural to feel confused and even to deny your strange powers. It was the same for me when I was a young man. I assure you, however, that under my tutelage you will—”
Harry Houdini Mysteries Page 17