There was applause and I removed the hood.

“Here’s the ring back, sir,” Houdini said. “I suspect you don’t intend to wear it yourself. It’s a little small for your fingers.”

“No, it was intended for someone else,” the man said. I took a step forward to peer into the darkness. Because I recognized that voice. It was Daniel.

I don’t know how I managed to get through the rest of the act. I’m sure I didn’t drift across the stage with grace as we went through the handcuff challenges. All I could think of was what I was going to say when I had to face Daniel. That, and the fact that he had a ring in his pocket, which he might or might not give me after what he had witnessed tonight.

Then at last came the trunk illusion. I went to retrieve it from the wings. A stagehand helped me carry it into position. Houdini removed his jacket and hung it up. Men were invited up onto the stage to inspect the trunk, try the locks, and then to bind Houdini hand and foot. When he was trussed up like a chicken, the bag was pulled up over him and drawn closed. Then he was placed in the trunk and the locks were snapped shut. I wheeled out the cabinet from the wings, displayed that it consisted of nothing more than a three-sided frame, covered with fabric, then turned it to conceal the trunk from the audience. The drumroll started. I crossed the stage to take up my position near the watching men on the opposite side of the stage, to divert eyes from the trunk until the right moment.

The previous night Houdini had popped out of the trunk almost before I had time to cross the stage. Tonight I turned, gestured toward the trunk, stood, and waited. I was conscious of the drumroll increasing in volume and intensity. He’s stringing it out to heighten the suspense, I thought, remembering how I had held my breath during the moments of drama when I had been in the audience. Always keep them surprised, he had told me.

I heard the announcer reminding the audience that there was only enough air in that trunk for someone to survive for a few minutes, and someone struggling to free himself from bonds within the thick fabric of that bag would use up the air all that faster. A minute had to have passed. Two minutes. Three. I could sense the restlessness in the crowd. I glanced across at Mr. Irving, standing to the side of the stage. He too was looking worried. But this was Houdini. It was reputed he could hold his breath longer than any other human being. He had supernatural powers. He was in league with the devil.