“Take a look at this,” Daniel said, and explained what had happened. “Examine the body and tell me what you think.” He stood up to address the men who had accompanied MacAffrey. “I want this place searched. Every inch of it. I want to know where this man was killed, so look for traces of blood. He was obviously caught by surprise and finished off efficiently, so I don’t expect to find any sign of a scuffle. And you’re looking for any place that someone could hide.” He indicated two of the men. “You two. Outside the theater. Ask anyone working nearby—flower sellers, vendors, whether they saw Houdini come out. His picture is all over the posters so I’m sure they’d have recognized him. He can’t just have vanished. If he’s not here, he left the theater somehow.”

The men went about their duty and Daniel knelt beside the young detective. “Have you brought a photographer?”

“Yes, sir. Jackson has the photographic equipment.”

“Then let’s set it up and get a photograph of the body right away.”

A policeman began setting up equipment and suddenly there was a blinding flash and the air smelled of sulfur.

“So what do you think, MacAffrey?”

“Definitely killed here, I’d say, sir,” the young detective said. “And not too long ago.”

“That’s what I thought too. And a nice neat job, wouldn’t you say?”

The shirt was now fully open and they were examining the wound on the chest. Actually there was a surprisingly small amount of blood, compared to the horrors of what had happened to Lily the other night.

“A stiletto, from the size of the wound,” the younger man said. “And he knew exactly where to put it to cause instant death.”

“So we’re dealing with a professional,” Daniel muttered. “A professional assassin comes into the theater, kills a man, and substitutes his body for Houdini in a trunk that doesn’t ever leave the stage. A pretty puzzle, wouldn’t you say.” He glanced up at the other illusionists. “Any suggestions, gentlemen?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m just a carnival man. I know nothing about this kind of thing,” Abdullah said. “I’m not one of their fraternity at all.”

“He certainly is not,” Billy Robinson said disdainfully. “And I stick to cards. But I have to admire the skill involved in this. Whoever pulled it off knows his stuff.”

“So would you say we were dealing with a professional magician?” MacAffrey asked.

“Illusionist,” Robinson said. “Magicians are for children’s parties. But in answer to your question, I think you have to be dealing with a damned good illusionist.”

“Like Houdini, would you say?” Daniel asked.

“As good as Houdini, yes.”

“And there aren’t many of them around.”

Robinson nodded.