She let out a string of German curses at me as I fled up the steps to the wings. Smith and Summer were right behind me and I didn’t think I’d get far, but at least I’d not give up without a fight. As I crossed the stage there was a click and all the stage lights came on. We froze, blinking in the brilliant glare.

“Hold it right there, gentlemen,” a voice said, and to my utter relief I watched policemen coming up the steps onto the stage.

“Stand back,” Smith said. He grabbed me and held the knife at my throat. “One step nearer and this woman dies.”

An eerie silence fell as the constables stopped moving.

“Don’t do anything stupid, sir,” one of them said. “Let the young lady go and nobody will get hurt.”

“She’s coming with me and nobody will try to stop us,” Smith said.

He started to drag me backward. Then something strange happened. I heard a whooshing noise and was vaguely conscious of someone standing behind us. The knife tightened on my throat for a second and I felt it nick my skin. I heard Smith give something between a grunt and a gurgle. Then another hand came around Smith’s.

“Drop it,” a voice said, and slowly Smith’s hand was pulled away from my throat and his arm was twisted around until he whimpered in pain.

“I said, drop it.”

“Stop it, you’re breaking my arm!” Smith screamed.

“With pleasure,” the voice said.

I took the opportunity to struggle free. Smith’s arm was now up behind his back and his assailant had forced him to his knees. That assailant was Dr. Leopold Weiss.

“Here you are, gentlemen. He’s all yours,” Weiss said. “Please take good care of him until Chief Wilkie of the Secret Service gets here. He’s a dangerous German agent. And I suggest you stop the illusionist Summer and his assistant from leaving the theater by the back door.”

Men rushed past us. Anthony Smith was put into handcuffs and taken down from the stage.

“And the stagehand called Ernest,” I called out. “He is also one of them.”

“German spies, you mean?” a young policeman asked in surprise.

“Exactly.”

Two constables exchanged glances. “Who would have thought it—here in New York?” one of them said.

I must have swayed a little.

“Are you unharmed?” Dr. Weiss asked me.

“I think so. I was hit on the back of the head and it’s certainly throbbing like billy-o, but other than that, I think I’ll survive. Do you really have a carriage waiting? Mr. Wilkie will be arriving at Houdini’s house any moment.”

“Then let us go,” he said. He took my arm and steered me down the steps and through the theater.