The Complete Simon Iff

by Aleister Crowley

  "On the night I was there the time between the rise and fall of the curtain was fourteen minutes and seven seconds: between the veiling and unveiling of the safe thirty-eight seconds and three-fifths. That is, the safe was actually hidden from my sight for that period. It is a splendidly smart performance. Of course, I cannot be sure that they do it in the way I have indicated; but it is not far out. The escape is certainly through the stage, not in any other direction.

  "It follows that every action must be done with incomparable verve and snap. They have to drill for weeks. Of course there's a little lee-way, but that's in case of a hitch. The brilliant effect depends entirely on the shortness of the time of veiling. Take sixty seconds, and people would begin to be bored.

  "Now then - whom have we here? Opopo himself, Miss Max, and a man to work the exchange of the plates, unless she did it herself, as is possible. These people hate to multiply assistants; each one means a chance to let their secrets get out. The porters are mere supers, of course.

  "However, it doesn't matter if there were twenty assistants. One person, and one only, had access to Opopo during that forty seconds more or less when the safe was veiled. At any other time, no one had access. Of course, Opopo was alone after he had shut her into the safe, but a third person could hardly have killed him and put him back and taken her out, without her noticing something unusual! We must therefore take out choice between suicide, and murder by Miss Max.

  "We know nothing about Miss Max; but would any human being choose to commit murder in such a way? Her only chance of escape is the suicide theory, which she must have known to be unlikely - else why murder the man, for one thing? It would be sure to strike some one to suspect her, as the one person with access to Opopo; the prussic acid good-bye! as Swinburne says. She must have had a dozen better opportunities daily. Bring me motives by the wagon load, circumstantial evidence by the rod, pole, or perch, and I shall still say that she didn't do it, unless she is an epileptic maniac."

  "I may print that?"

  "Yes; but add that I think it is a case of murder."

  "You just proved it wasn't!" cried Miss Mollie Madison in comic despair.

  "Never in the world! Read over your notes! Also add this. My opinion is provisional; but it is the best that I can do without having any facts at all to guide me."

  And so it came about that Wake Morningside's article and the interview with Simon Iff were printed in parallel columns under the heading:

  'Opposite Opinions: the man who saw and heard everything, and the man who saw and heard nothing.'

  IV

  Wake Morningside's article was a feather in Simon Iff's cap in one respect. He agreed entirely as to the method of the trick. The second plate of steel, which was of course exposed by the authorities as being part of the apparatus, made that clear.

  But what was new was actually the record of the events of the fatal night. Morningside had been on the committee.

  The trick had passed off normally up to the moment of the veiling. The 'green baize argument' had been started by a voice from the gallery, an accomplice stationed for the purpose in case the committee failed to challenge Opopo on the subject.

  Morningside took out his watch to time the period of veiling. Ninety-two seconds elapsed; he thought 'What a badly worked trick!' Then the curtain came down suddenly, cutting off the committee from the audience. He heard the stage manager apologizing, and a singer coming on in front of the curtain as the orchestra struck up. At the same time as the manager began his little speech, Miss Max ran in from the wings. 'There's something wrong!' she said; 'open the safe, quick!'

  Of course she had not the combination; only the committeeman knew that. The man rumbled; Mr. Nash ran up, got the word from him, and spun round the wheel. Both he and the committeeman were overpowered by the fume of the acid, and had to be treated medically.

  Morningside kept his head, and examined the safe, discovering the trick by which the seals were affixed to a 'camouflage' strip of paper instead of to the steel jamb. He also discovered the 'false end' of the tarpaulin cord. Nothing had been touched from within; it was certain that Opopo had died almost immediately on entering the safe. In fact, he was still partially bound; his legs were tied firmly; his left arm still wore a handcuff. Only the right forearm was wholly free.

  An inspector of police now appeared on the scene. The manager wanted the stage cleared; the inspector insisted that the audience be informed of the nature of the accident - so far as that it was not fire - and the house closed for the night, so that the coroner might view the body. The inspector took the names and addresses of the committee, that he might call them as witnesses.

  Morningside dismissed the suicide theory as incredible.

  The evidence of Opopo's wife was extremely sane and strong. He had bought a house only a month before; he was spending every day with her in delighted purchase of old furniture and pictures, in which he had always revelled. That very morning he had received a telegram informing him that the Supreme Court had confirmed a judgement in his favour relative to certain breaches of his copyright in the 'act'; and he had ordered a supper after the performance to celebrate it. He was not entangled with any woman; his marriage was only six months old; a baby was on the way, and his great wish had always been for a son to carry on the Opopo tradition, he himself being the third of that dynasty. Friends and colleagues confirmed this statement on many points.

  Morningside then proceeded to prove that in the ninety-two seconds at her disposal Miss Max could easily have accomplished the murder. She had almost certainly some quick method of learning the combination of the safe. There were fifty ways of informing her. It was probably necessary, since now and again Opopo might fail to free himself from the cords, and she would then have to help him. Therefore, she had but to open the safe, administer the poison, readjust it and the seals, do the same with the tarpaulin, and give the alarm. The closed safe was her alibi.

  As to the motive, that was not the affair of Mr. Wake Morningside, and he was always the servant of the public.

  The 'Chicago Pigeon' had not been content with one angle of the case. Another reporter had got after Miss Max; and Morningside's article was followed by her biography.

  She was of poor parents of doubtful character, both dead or disappeared. Her mind was amazingly precocious; she had gained a scholarship at Bryn Mawr and specialized in chemistry. (Chemistry, pray observe.) She had led a wild life there, and been expelled for an outrageous escapade. For two years, it seems, she had walked the streets, and on three occassions narrowly escaped conviction as a thief. She then fascinated a photographer - in whose studio, remarked the reporter, potassium cyanide abounds, and only needs distillation with sulphuric acid to produce the poison that killed Opopo. This photographer had died under suspicious circumstances. Miss Max disappeared for awhile; she was next heard of in connexion with a gang of coiners, but the police could get no evidence against her. She began to have plenty of money, however; and, with the help of an 'angel' appeared in a cabaret as a dancer. She next tried vaudeville in a Japanese juggling act, but failed lamentably. Here, however, she met Opopo. This was a year before his marriage. He engaged her as his assistant. She set her cap at him, but in vain. Shortly after his engagement to the lady whom he married, somebody threw vitriol at them, which luckily missed. She was suspected, but proved an alibi by three wealthy men, probably all of them under her spell. Recently she had renewed her advances to Opopo. Her extraordinary cleverness in the 'act', which was making big money, prevented him from discharging her. But ten days before his death he had interviewed another girl, it is said, and engaged her from the end of the following month. Miss Max might or might not have been cognizant of this fact, but it was natural to suppose that he had given her notice to quit.

  An hour after the publication of this issue an 'extra' was being cried on the streets. The coroner's jury had brought in a verdict of murder against Miss Max, and she had been arrested.

  "This", said
Simon Iff, "is where I become the darling of the Great American People. Rise, Sir Simon Iff! My arms, thou gallant squire! My battle-charger, Eustace! Hie thee to King Arthur, Clarence, and lout thee low, and say Sir Simon is afield. Beauty and Innocence in danger! By'r Lady, the varlets shall rue it!"

  This singular outburst was entirely unintelligible to Iff's Japanese servant, but he judged from his master's tone that brandy would fit the case; so he placed on the table a bottle of date eighteen hundred and eleven.

  "Pack!" commanded Iff, "and telephone for berths to Chicago on the first good train we can conveniently catch."

  It is to be regretted that Simple Simon now becomes a character more infamous than Benedict Arnold. He telephoned Miss Mollie Madison, and told her his intentions. She was not going to miss that chance, and she followed him to Chicago on the very next train. Thus simply and without effort do we incur fifteen year's imprisonment in the Land of the Free.

  The wretched woman, now completely in the toils of the vilest of mankind, had breakfast with him at the Hotel Obsidian. He drank neat brandy like a fish, and became more sober and more angry every moment.

  "We are up against it, little one", said he, lighting a Florida Cigar in order to become still angrier; "we have Idiocy and Malice to contend with in the persons of Wake Morningside and this dog Walter Gale - whose name I should prefer to pronounce in the French fashion.*

  "There isn't a hint of any investigation, or evidence of any desire to discover the truth. It's the most blasted balderdash from one, the foulest libel from the other. Let's run through it! Here! Evidence of the wife. Very anxious to prove how much her husband loved her, isn't she? Methinks the lady doth protest too much. Well, never mind her; she's nobody; wives often are.

  "Evidence of Mr. Expert Wake Morningside. Wake is either 'lucus a non lucendo' or short for Quack. Hear him! 'She had almost certainly a way to get the word of the safe'. Almost. 'There were fifty ways of informing her.' Why not say one way, and mention it?

  "'It was probably necessary'.

  "'Opopo might fail'. He hasn't failed in thirty years on the stage, with the whole world, and his enemies in the profession, out to make a fool of him.

  "'She had but to' perform a most complicated trick, which would certainly convict her. The wife, at least, would know how easy it would be for her, and her alone, to do it. And she is to do this, if you please, when Opopo is already out of his bonds, and free on the stage. She is to kill him and pack him up again, is she? The safe would certainly be open before she ever reached the stage. Thirty-eight seconds and three-fifths, for the whole transfer, the night I was present. Opopo didn't read any novels to pass away the time!

  "So much for Mr. Morningside and his conjugation with may, might, could, should and would. Now for the unspeakable Gale!

  "'She was of poor parents' - pah! poor! how disgusting! 'of doubtful character' - of course, no money. 'dead or disappeared' - disgraceful of them! Then comes a fact, a fact in her favour. She gained a scholarship. That fact can be tested. 'She was expelled for an escapade'. Was she judged fairly by those arbitrary dons? A poor girl, with no pull? And what's an 'escapade'? An innocent freak, or an assassination? Mr. Gale doesn't trouble to find out.

  "She then walks the streets - 'it seems'. Where else would anybody walk?

  "She 'narrowly escapes conviction as a thief'. In English, she was acquitted. Pretty good for a poor girl, I think.

  "'She then fascinated a photographer' - English, she got a job.

  "'In the studio potassium cyanide abounds' - there's no English, thank God, for this filthy type of innuendo.

  "He died 'under suspicious circumstances'. Who suspected what?

  "She is 'heard of in connexion with a gang of coiners'. What's the connexion? 'The police could get no evidence against her!' Those miserable police - we reporters could teach them something! Then she dances in a cabaret - dreadful. Then she goes into vaudeville - more dreadful still.

  "'She set her cap at him, but in vain.' Who says so? The jealous wife, again? 'Somebody throws vitriol - and misses. Who was it? Miss Max, of course, a girl who has been in a Japanese Juggling Act. Yet she misses two people completely, not with a rifle at a thousand yards, but with vitriol!

  "'She was suspected,' and her alibi is so good that it must be false. The three men 'probably all of them under her spell' - when the theory is that she is crazily in love with Opopo, and would have to explain the object of the alibi to the false witnesses. 'Wealthy men' have to be under all kinds of a spell to take a long chance of prison for the sake of a girl in love with another man!

  "Then she 'renews her advances' to Opopo after his marriage. The wife again? And then he engages another girl, 'it is said'? Green room gossip.

  "And it all ends up 'it is natural to suppose.' I suppose it is natural to suppose, to some people! The long and the short of it is that this whole article is a most damnable tissue of malicious lying and guessing. There's not one single proved fact to her discredit. And is it 'natural to suppose' that this debauched harlot keeps herself clean and keen, every muscle taut, every nerve alert, as she must do to go through that act? I saw her. She's as swift and slender as Artemis, her eyes aglitter, her lips firm, not an ounce of waste flesh; as you would perhaps say in an outburst of frankness, 'Gee, what a peach!' I may be an old dotard, but I thought her a perfect type of woman. She may be 'immoral' in your vile Puritanical sense; but she's mistress of herself, if I ever saw one. Why, it's Love that gives strength and courage and vitality to those that serve Him wisely and gaily and with passion!"

  "I'm feeling ever so much better, Mr. Iff!"

  "If you're through breakfast, suppose we go and hunt up some real evidence!"

  Simple Simon had bethought him to ask Teake to telephone the Chicago Police to help him, and the Commissioner had gladly complied. In fact, he was cursing fate that his duties would not let him leave New York. He would have dearly loved to hunt with Simon Iff.

  He found Rogers, the 'Whip of Chicago' as they called him, in consultation with the District Attorney. They greeted him warmly, but were not particularly pleased when he announced his belief in the innocence of Miss Max.

  "You're butting into an impossibility", said Rogers. The truth was that both men were extremely sore over a wrongful arrest, which had let the city in for heavy damages, and a fiasco in the matter of a raid, which had made the administration ridiculous. Their political existence was at stake; they could afford no more blunders.

  Iff, with matchless tact - the wrong way round - tackled them directly. "Go slow!" he said, "the longest way round is sometimes the shortest way home, and kind hearts are more than coronets, and all that. Give that poor girl every courtesy and comfort that you can; with a little luck, I'll have the right man for you in four-and-twenty hours, and you'll be glad you did it."

  "That's a bet," said Rogers, heartily, clasping Iff by the hand; "she shall have champaign and caviar till to-morrow morning."

  "Done!" cried Iff, "and now may I have an hour with the exhibits?"

  Rogers conducted Iff to a vast room where the apparatus was stored. It had been set up in position; the corpse of Opopo was replaced by a wax model, the cords and handcuffs replaced exactly as they were when he was found.

  "Beautiful!" cried Simon, "you really merit your success. This is true imagination. Beautiful, beautiful!"

  Rogers was much gratified.

  "But where," asked the mystic, "is the phial containing the poison?"

  "She destroyed it, obviously."

  "You looked for it?"

  "Everywhere."

  "Beneath the stage?"

  "Especially there."

  "Good."

  "She wasn't arrested till yesterday; she had plenty of opportunity to get rid of it."

  "But she didn't know that; she might have been arrested at once - with Mrs. Opopo in the house. She would have got rid of it before giving the alarm."

  "An accomplice under the stage?"

  "Possibly
, possibly. But do you mind if I look for myself?"

  "Sure. But where?"

  "Here - and now."

  Simple Simon inspected the inside of the safe with extreme care. He had the model removed, and renewed his effort. His delicate fingers seemed to caress the steel. Presently he withdrew, and began to examine the bonds that held the model. He seemed less interested than before; he was languid and distracted. "What's the use," he said slowly after a few minutes, "when one knows?"

  Rogers was not at all impressed.

  "Let's get down to business," suddenly snapped Simon, an entirely different person, "I want to see that committee. I may get some sense out of them."

  "Wake Morningside's here now, as it happens; he wants leave to go on to New York."

  "Lucky; let's see him! Here, for choice!"

  "I'll send for him."

  Morningside arrived in a few moments. After the usual phrases of commonplace, Simon Iff began his attack.

  "Forgive the impertinence of an old man to a young one, won't you? But you should always stick to the indicative mood. The subjunctive's poison to you. I think I may say that I've never known you wrong in a fact, or right in a theory. You've got observation skinned to a whisper (isn't it?) but your imagination is absolutely on the blink." He looked mildly to Rogers for encouragement in his efforts to talk the vernacular, but that deity was wholly occupied in chewing a cigar. Simon Iff thought of the priests of Baal, and wondered if he would do any good by crying and cutting himself with stones. Morningside was making his defence, and it would have been impolite to interrupt. Consequently, his mind was absolutely free to roam.

  The moment Morningside concluded, he began, "This, Morningside, is why I rely absolutely upon your memory to solve this mystery. Which of the numerous fools on the committee brought those hard cords to tie a man up with?"