Harry Houdini Mysteries by Daniel Stashower Read Free Book Online Page B

fingers behind his head as he collected his thoughts. “As I recall, it was only through the most persistent pleadings from Mrs. Watkin that Mr. Craig was persuaded to give any sort of demonstration. He made a great show of reluctance, then agreed to make what he called ‘a modest effort to commune with the spirits.’ He asked that each member of the party place some small object into a hat at the center of the table. He was very careful to specify that the objects be personal in nature. The items were gathered while Craig himself stepped out of the room. When he returned—”
    “He was able to identify the owner of each object,” Harry said, “and he was able to reveal some private fact about each person.”
    “Exactly! You’ve seen him perform the feat?”
    “I’ve done it myself,” Harry said. “It is not terribly difficult.”
    “Come now, Houdini,” said Biggs. “How have you been able to bring off such a thing?”
    Harry waved his hand as if batting at an insect. “Later,” he said impatiently.
    “Well, Mr. Houdini,” Clairmont continued, “I can’t vouch for your abilities, but by the reactions of my mother and the other guests, you would have thought that Mr. Craig had parted the Red Sea. My mother happened to be carrying a stickpin that had belonged to my father. When Mr. Craig grasped it, he seemed to know this at once. ‘This belonged to the late husband of the charming Mrs. Clairmont,’ he said. ‘Her husband was obviously a man of great cunning and intelligence, who also had a deep appreciation of life’s bounty.’”
    “A deep appreciation of life’s bounty,” said Biggs with a snort.“Who would disagree with such a thing? He was simply telling your mother something she wanted to hear.”
    “I would have agreed with you, but when it came to be my turn Mr. Craig did something that left me absolutely baffled. I had taken care to provide an object that I felt certain would stymie him. Instead of putting forward my collar stay or something of that nature, I borrowed a fountain pen belonging to Mrs. Watkin’s butler, Lachley.”
    “Very clever,” Harry said, appraising Clairmont with fresh interest.
    “My little deception proved ineffective. Craig puzzled over the fountain pen for some time, then he looked at me and said, ‘Young Kenneth seeks to confuse the matter. This is not the pen of a young student, but that of an older man, a man born to serve others with dignity and grace—though perhaps a bit overly fond of the fruits of the vine.’ And poor Lachley, who had been standing close by with a tray of fruit cups, nearly collapsed from embarrassment. It was a triumph for Mr. Craig, but ever since that day he has been wary of me. This has not prevented him from attaching himself to my mother, however.”
    “How did this come about?”
    “Well, Mr. Houdini, it was clear from the first that my mother had been captivated by the possibility of contacting my father’s spirit through Mr. Craig. That very evening she drew him aside and acquainted him with the unhappy circumstances of my father’s death. She knew that he claimed to have the power to speak with departed souls and wished to know whether it might be possible to reach my father in this manner. Mr. Craig professed to be ambivalent, saying that such communications are not always possible and adding that my father might not yet have completed his ‘translation’ to the other side. But my mother would not be dissuaded, and Mr. Craig eventually agreed to visit us at our home the next day.”
    Harry fingered the rim of his glass. “Did he conduct a séance?”
    “Hardly, Mr. Houdini. That’s what’s so infuriating about thisman. He husbands this so-called gift of his as though it were some precious metal that wears away with use. It is only with the greatest reluctance that he will make any sort of demonstration at all, such as the trick of matching the objects with their owners. He continually dangles the promise of a