The Ectoplasmic Man by Daniel Stashower Read Free Book Online

you and the audience may keep track of my progress by means of the large clock you see here. Gentlemen!”
    A rope was attached to the foot stocks. Houdini was then hoisted up by the feet and dangled like a fish over the open cabinet of water.
    “This ancient Hindu mystery,” Houdini proclaimed from his unusual vantage, “has not been performed on any stage for more than two centuries. I have brought the effect to England directly from Calcutta, where I was admitted to a holy council of elders that I might learn the treasured secret, or perish in the attempt! Ladies and gentlemen!” he shouted, “I present the death-defying Water Torture Cell!”
    The rope was cut and Houdini plunged head first into the cabinet.Water spilled onto the stage as his assistants fastened the heavy stocks to the top of the cell, sealing Houdini within.
    For thirty seconds Houdini merely hung suspended upside-down without acknowledging his predicament in any way. Then, quite suddenly, he began to squirm and twist as if trying to draw his manacled hands up to his feet.
    A minute passed and I began to wonder how much longer Houdini could remain underwater, when, with a convulsive effort, he managed to free his hands from the manacles. The audience cheered as the open handcuffs drifted to the bottom of the tank, but it still remained for Houdini to free himself from the foot stocks and effect an escape from the cell.
    It seemed like hours, but the large clock showed only two minutes when Houdini renewed his struggle. I knew that even a man of his extraordinary physical stamina could exert himself for only so long without oxygen. How much longer could he survive? Could this be the danger Mrs Houdini feared? I clenched my fists and waited.
    Three minutes after entering the tank, Houdini’s actions began to grow feeble and desperate. “Free him, Watson!” shouted a voice from the audience. I looked to Houdini’s assistants. They were aware of the dilemma, but made no move to aid him. My heart pounded in my throat as I realised that Houdini’s life was in my hands.
    Four minutes had passed. Houdini began to pound on the glass. By now the audience was in a frenzy. Men shouted, women screamed, and onstage the assistants darted about, whispering to one another, preparing to act. I feared that they would be too late. Houdini expelled a large cloud of bubbles and hung limp in the tank. Looking about for a heavy object, I chanced to see, leaning forward from one of the upper boxes, the face of Bess Houdini. In that face I beheld such a convulsion of terror that I was propelled, quite unthinkingly, into sudden and precipitous action.
    Dashing to the wings I seized a fire axe. Franz, the impassive giant,attempted to restrain me, but I broke free, rushed back onstage, and smashed open the cabinet. Water and glass flooded across the stage and into the orchestra pit. Houdini was barely conscious as Franz cut through the heavy manacles and lifted him to the stage.
    “Get a doctor!” someone shouted.
    “I am a doctor,” I replied. “Stand back! Give him room!”
    Houdini raised his head and gestured weakly to the wings. “L-lower the curtain,” he gasped, his eyes closing.
    Though I did not have my medical bag with me, I began to minister to Houdini as best I could. How could I have allowed this to happen? It was plain that the cell had been altered in some way, and now Houdini was on the brink of death. If I lost him, I thought grimly, I would not rest until I had discovered the agent of this outrage, with or without the aid of Sherlock Holmes.

Five

    A N A STONISHING R ECOVERY
    M y bold resolves did not carry me very far, for no sooner was the curtain rung down than Houdini, miraculously recovered, leapt to his feet and seized me roughly by the lapels.
    “Damn you, Watson,” he hissed, “did Holmes put you up to this?”
    “Mr Houdini,” I stammered, “I thought you were in peril!”
    “’In peril?’ In dire need of the trusty Dr Watson?