“All right, if you really want to know, that old man was suspicious because he thought I was a newspaper reporter. He told me so. He thought I was trying to get a scoop on Houdini.” I returned the peck on the cheek. “I must run.”

Daniel sighed. “Why couldn’t I have chosen a young lady who played the piano and practiced embroidery?” he called after me.

“You could have done so, remember?” I called back. “At least I’m not boring.”

“That I don’t dispute,” he said, laughing as I disappeared down the stairs.

Sixteen

I arrived at the theater after the show had started.

“Good evening, Ted,” I said to the doorkeeper, giving him an innocent smile. “Mr. Houdini is expecting me. I’ll go on through, shall I?”

He scowled at me. “Yes, he told me you’d be turning up again like the proverbial bad penny. But let me give you a word of warning, girlie—if all this chumminess is in aid of getting a good story, you’ll be sorry. Guys like Harry Houdini—they don’t take well to being hoodwinked.”

“I can assure you that I’m not here to hoodwink anyone,” I said, “least of all Mr. Houdini. Why have you been so suspicious of me? Have other people been coming around, trying to bother the Houdinis? Other, less desirable sort of people, shall we say?”

His eyes narrowed and he squinted at me. “Less desirable than what? The usual riffraff we get around at the stage door? There’s been plenty wanting to get an exclusive interview with him, that’s for sure.”

“I meant anyone you suspected had come to threaten him—like that young man we saw the other night—the one you said must have come from front of house.”

“You know what’s wrong with you, don’t you,” he grunted. “You ask too many questions. It ain’t healthy. Curiosity killed the cat, remember that.”

“I’ll remember,” I said.

I walked on into the theater. If that wasn’t a direct warning, what was? Old Ted knew something and he wasn’t about to tell me. My only reassurance was that he had spoken to the police at some stage, when he had reported me as a suspicious character. I could only hope that he had reported any other suspicious characters at the same time and that the police were now investigating.

Music was playing and the stage was ablaze with light as I entered the backstage area. A burst of applause came from the audience as a dove flew across the stage. Marvo was currently performing.

I jumped as a hand grabbed my forearm.

“Where do you think you’re going, miss?” a voice hissed in my ear. It was one of the stagehands I had encountered before—the surly one. Ernest, I believe his name was. “No outsiders permitted during the show.”