“It’s blood. See, it’s blood,” someone gasped from the row behind us.

“No! It can’t be!” Scarpelli shouted. “Somebody help me get her out.”

Stagehands rushed to his aid.

“Don’t worry,” Daniel whispered to me. “It’s all for effect, you mark my words.”

At that moment Scarpelli wrenched open the lid of the box.

“Oh, God in Heaven, no, no!” he yelled. “What fiend has done this? Help her, somebody help her.”

At that moment the theater manager came onto the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said holding up his hands for silence, even though most of the crowd was standing still, staring in horror, “I’m afraid there has been a slight mishap. It appears that something has gone horribly wrong. Is there a doctor in the house?”

“Yes, I’m a doctor,” came a deep, booming voice from somewhere in the darkness and a distinguished-looking man with impressive gray side-whiskers came up the steps to the stage with sprightly agility for someone of his age and build. “Stand back, please,” he commanded, waving everybody out of the way. He took one look at the girl lying there, then addressed the manager. “This looks extremely serious,” he barked. “Send for an ambulance immediately and bring down the curtain.” He turned back to minister to the girl as the manager came to the front of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to ask you to leave the theater and go home. The rest of tonight’s show is canceled.”

At those words there were mutterings of annoyance and disappointment from the audience but they began to leave their seats.

The curtains began to close. Daniel had reached the aisle, ahead of me. He was pushing his way through the departing crowd, like a salmon swimming upstream, making for the stage. I followed in his wake. I didn’t stop to think that I might not want to witness what had happened up there. Up the steps I went after Daniel. He pulled aside the curtain that had now fallen on the stage. It was almost as if a tableau was taking place before our eyes—the men clustered around the open box, the doctor bending over it. They looked up as they saw us come onto the stage.

“Are you also a physician, sir?” The doctor demanded, looking up from his patient, “because if not, I’ll ask you to leave instantly. . . .”

“No, I’m a police detective,” Daniel said, “Captain Sullivan.” He fished in his pocket and produced his badge. “And before any of you go around touching everything, I assume we now have to treat this as a crime scene.”

“We do indeed, Captain.” Scarpelli moved toward Daniel. “Someone must have tampered with my equipment. There was no way the saw should have come anywhere near her. I had perfected the illusion.”