A large contraption was being wheeled onto the stage. It was covered in a red velvet cloth, which Scarpelli whipped away dramatically to reveal a table on legs on which reposed a large, oblong box, garishly painted with flames and shooting stars. He then spun it around to show that it had small openings at either end. Scarpelli then opened the box lid and let down a front panel to reveal a white-satin padded interior, as one might see in a superior type of coffin. Then he extended his hand to the girl.

“I’ll now ask my lovely assistant, Lily, to step inside this contraption of horror,” he said.

Lily smiled and waved to the crowd as she allowed the Great Scarpelli to assist her into the box, where she lay while the lid was closed, leaving her head exposed at one end and her feet sticking out of the other. The box was then latched with two large locks. From the orchestra pit came a low, ominous drumroll. Signor Scarpelli then produced an impressive-looking saw, bent it, and waved it around.

“Ladies and gentlemen, a common ordinary saw, with which I’m sure the gentlemen among you are familiar. This particular specimen has been sharpened to perfection, in fact I’m sure any one of you would covet it for your own woodpile. Allow me to demonstrate.”

A male assistant now pushed out a small table on which lay a log of wood. Scarpelli removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and proceeded to saw most efficiently through the log until the two halves fell onto the stage floor.

“So you’ll agree that I should have little problem slicing through such a delicate specimen as sweet Lily,” he said, giving the audience a wicked grin. “Right then. To work. Drumroll if you please, Maestro.”

The drumroll started again, louder and louder until it filled the theater with sound. I could almost feel those around me holding their breath. I knew I was holding mine. Carefully he placed the saw on the middle of the box and started to move it back and forth. It went through the top layer of wood like butter. We could see it protruding with each thrust, lower and lower. It must have reached the girl’s body by now. Suddenly, over the noise of the saw and the drum, there came a bloodcurdling scream. Screams echoed back from the audience. Some people had risen to their feet. Some ladies were already swooning. It was clear that something had gone wrong.

“Holy Mother of God,” I heard myself muttering.

Signor Scarpelli extracted the saw with difficulty, threw it down, then rushed around the table, and began clawing frantically at the locks. The screaming had now stopped and the theater was ominously silent.

“A nice touch,” Daniel muttered into my ear. “Get everybody good and scared.”

Then we saw something dripping from the bottom of the box onto the floor. Great drips of red.