“I’m taking this young lady to be examined,” he said. “She had received a blow to the head. Please tell your superiors that we may be found at Houdini’s residence, on 102nd Street in Harlem.”

Then he steered me outside. The thunderstorm had passed, the sidewalks were steaming, and the evening sunlight hurt my eyes. He hailed a cab and helped me up. I sat back with a sigh of relief. Then, as we set off, I remembered something. “Your scrapbooks. That fiend Anthony Smith must have them, or they are still in the carriage in which he transported me.”

“My scrapbooks?” He looked at me with interest.

“It is Mr. Houdini, I presume?” I asked with a smile.

Thirty-four

The cab set off with a clatter of hooves. We sat side by side in the semi darkness. “How did you know?” he asked me.

I turned to look at him. “I saw a photograph of your family. Leopold was quite a bit taller than you, although you have his beard and hair perfectly. What’s more, you recognized me this morning and I knew that Leopold had never seen me. Also, Harry Houdini and I were about the same height so Leopold would have been taller than me. I didn’t realize it right away, but you have a certain way of thrusting out your jaw when you speak. So when you appeared in the theater, I thought I’d take a chance that it was you and not your brother. I gave you the signals you’d drilled into me, and you understood them.”

He smiled. “Very clever, Miss Murphy—you even remembered to touch your hair when you said the words ‘will’ and ‘key,’ so that the message read ‘Wilkie at Houdini’s house.’ You were a good pupil.”

“How did you know I’d be at the theater?”

“I saw you in the stage box earlier this afternoon. I wanted to get a good look at Summer and Lily for myself. To tell you the truth, I had suspected him all along. I wasn’t sure about her. And of course I have had to be extra cautious. They nearly killed me once. I didn’t want to give them a second chance.”

“Did they really throw you into the East River in the trunk?”