Harry Houdini Mysteries (13 page)

Craig was not mollified. “I will not have Mr. Houdini prodding and probing at my every movement. I am not a circus dog.”

I glanced at my brother. “Harry?”

“What my brother says is true,” Harry said, with surprising sincerity. “There is much in this world that I do not yet understand. My mind is supple. I am prepared to weigh the evidence.”

The medium shook his head. “Your actions tonight suggest otherwise, Mr. Houdini.”

“I beg to differ. I have done nothing that a man of science would not do. There are several distinguished scientific bodies dedicated to examining this type of phenomena. In London there is the Society for Psychical Research. There is an American counterpart as well, operating in Boston, I believe. Many distinguished men have been drawn into their ranks. The physicist Oliver Lodge. The naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace. The philosopher William James. These are men of judgement and reason, but they are also men of discernment. They would require proof. If there is a single grain of truth in this matter, I will happily embrace it. Perhaps that proof may reside with you, Mr. Craig.”

I glanced at him in the dim light, surprised to find that he seemed to mean what he was saying. It is strange now to recall these sentiments coming from the lips of Harry Houdini, who in later life would become the scourge of spirit mediums at home and abroad. In time his reputation as an anti-spiritualist crusader would grow to be nearly as great as that of his exploits upon the stage. In his youth, however, his mind was far more plastic. Though he could never have been called a believer, more than once I heard him express a wistful hope that there might yet be magic in the world.

Craig’s hands fluttered to his lapels. “Very well,” he said after a moment’s consideration, “but first I must ask a favor of young Mr. Houdini.”

Harry looked up. “A favor?”

“Indeed,” said Craig, smiling contentedly. “I must ask that you tie me up.”

“What?” Harry appeared truly shocked. “Tie you up?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Mr. Houdini. I don’t know what, if any, spirit phenomena we may expect when we resume our experiment, but whatever may happen, I do not want you to accuse me of having manipulated the conditions afterwards. I can think of no other proof against your skepticism than to allow you to bind me to this chair.”

“Lucius, this seems very irregular,” said Mrs. Clairmont. “If you are tied to the chair, how will we maintain the spirit circle? You must be able to touch the hands of the sitters on either side of you.”

“That is so,” said the medium, weighing the problem. “Suppose Mr. Houdini were to lash my wrists to the arms of the chair? I should still be able to grasp the hands of my fellow sitters, but I would not be able to move in any other manner. Would that satisfy you, Mr. Houdini?”

Harry considered the matter. “It would,” he admitted. “It would, indeed.”

Craig’s mouth pursed with satisfaction. “Brunson? Have we any rope about the place?”

The butler nodded. “I believe there is some line for the washing, sir.”

“Please be so good as to fetch it.” The medium turned to my brother as Brunson departed on his errand. “Now, then, Mr. Houdini, I must once again emphasize that I do not know what will happen when we make our foray into the spirit realms, but I want there to be no doubt about my ability to perpetrate any type of fraud. You must tie me securely. Do you happen to know anything about ropes and knots? If not, perhaps one of the other gentlemen might—”

“I believe I am equal to the task,” Harry said carefully. “I know a bit about ropes and knots.”

“Excellent! Well, then, I await the outcome with great interest!” Craig linked his hands behind his back and drifted over toward the sideboard, helping himself to a small brandy from one of the decanters.

After a moment Brunson returned with a length of thin but sturdy braided hemp. Harry fell on the rope and examined it with careful attention, pulling to test its strength and examining the length for signs of wear. When he had satisfied himself, he asked that Mr. Craig be seated in the chair. The medium drained the last of his brandy and then settled himself with an air of amiable resignation. He placed his arms upon the rests, and there began the most thorough job of binding and trussing I have ever beheld. Harry did not so much tie the man’s arms as seal them within a cocoon of hemp. The rope was cut into several lengths, and each of these was wrapped and knotted with a tidy precision that would have brought credit to a surgeon closing a wound.

“My goodness, Mr. Houdini!” cried Craig when the operation was complete. “I do hope you will be able to untie all of these knots once we’ve finished!”

“We shall have to cut you out,” Harry said firmly. “When Harry Houdini ties a man up, he stays tied.”

“So I gather,” said Craig with a rueful smile. “In the circumstances, then, I must ask that each of you assist me in restoring the proper conditions for the continuation of our experiment. Mr. Grange, lock the door, if you would. We must not be disturbed at the crucial moment. Dr. Wells, put the lights down. Illumination is painful to the spirit presence. Kenneth, please take the chalk slate and replace it at the center of the table. Thank you, gentlemen. Brunson, please set the music box going once again. Yes, that is most pleasant. Good. Take your places, please. Let us begin anew. Perhaps we may enter into a realm that will astonish even Mr. Houdini.”

Once more we joined hands around the octagonal table, with Mrs. Clairmont and Mr. Grange stretching their hands
out a bit farther to clasp those of the confined Mr. Craig. The medium said a brief prayer and then closed his eyes for some further moments of silent contemplation. He had left a candle burning at the center of the table so that we might be able to find our places without difficulty. Now, having completed his meditations, he directed Brunson to extinguish the flame, plunging the room into total darkness.

In the sudden gloom I was aware only of the strains of Mozart rising from the music box and of the sound of Craig’s voice. The medium spoke in his normal fashion, with only a slight measuring of his words to indicate the gravity of the circumstance. He discoursed at some length on the “mystic wonders” to be found in the spirit realm and the “glorious contentment” that awaited all who were ready to embrace this message.

After a time Craig began to address himself to the spirits themselves, calling out as if beckoning a reluctant friend to join in a dance. “Will you give us a sign?” he asked. “Will you manifest in some way? There are friends here who would be most grateful.”

There was a sound near the bookcases. I strained my eyes against the gloom but could see nothing. Mr. Craig kept up his invocation, making it difficult to focus on any stray noises. “Are you there?” the medium continued. “Is that you? You are most welcome in this circle. We greet you with open hearts.”

There was a soft clanking noise and then a strange glow was visible, a streak of greenish light against the sheer cloth of the medium’s spirit cabinet. I heard a gasp from Mrs. Clairmont as several of the others shifted for a better view.

“Have a care, my friends!” Craig warned in an urgent tone. “Do not break the circle!”

“But what is it?” came Kenneth Clairmont’s voice.

The medium gave him no response. “Come forward, if you can,” said Craig, calling out to the glowing shape. “Do not be timid. We rejoice in your presence.”

What I saw next thoroughly unnerved me. As the greenish illumination moved closer, growing brighter as it advanced, we heard another metallic sound, like a chain dragging across stone. Suddenly, and quite startlingly, we could make out the dim outline of a human form hovering in the air. Its back was turned toward us and the arms appeared to be folded. As we watched, it seemed to pulse and flicker like a dancing candle flame.

“My God!” came a gasp from Mrs. Clairmont. “Jasper? Is it—can it be you? Do you hear me?”

And then, uncannily, the figure whirled round, and we were confronted with the most ungodly sight I have ever beheld. The memory of it chills me even now. It was a face, human in form but demonic in aspect, with a sharp chin and nose, angled brows, and a pair of bright embers where the eyes should have been. One hand gestured wildly in the air, slashing at the empty space with a long-bladed knife, while the face contorted with malevolent glee.

Mrs. Clairmont gave a cry that seemed to shake the house to its foundation.

“Augusta!” cried Dr. Wells. “Are you all right?”

“Lights!” shouted Kenneth Clairmont. “Brunson, get the lights back up!”

All of this I registered only later, for at the sound of Mrs. Clairmont’s scream I leapt from my chair and raced toward the strange apparition. As I neared it, however, I collided with a heavy, grunting figure, and both of us tumbled to the ground, our limbs tangled in a useless mass. At that moment, the lights were restored.

“Harry,” I cried, pushing my brother away. “Get off! I was trying to see what that thing was!”

“As was I,” he answered ruefully, rubbing at his head. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

Harry pointed to the spot near the bookcases where the strange vision had appeared. Nothing seemed out of place. Meanwhile, Dr. Wells and Kenneth were hovering beside Mrs.
Clairmont, who had fallen into a swoon.

“Kenneth,” Dr. Wells was saying, “fetch my bag from the front hall! Some smelling salts should do the trick.”

“I—I’m all right, really I am,” said Mrs. Clairmont in a feeble voice, as her eyes fluttered open. “What must you gentlemen think of me? I feel such a fool.”

“Don’t speak, Augusta,” said Dr. Wells. “You’ll be yourself shortly.”

“You needn’t fuss over me, Richardson. I assure you I’ll be fine.” She raised herself to an upright position. “Mr. Craig? Could that have been my husband?”

The medium was still bound securely to the chair, his face pale and anxious. “I could not say, I’m afraid. This was unlike anything I have ever experienced. The energies in this room are really quite unfathomable.” He shuddered visibly, as though sensing a malign presence. “Perhaps someone might help me out of these ropes. Mr. Grange, would you—? Mr. Grange. Are you unwell, sir?”

Mr. Grange sat stiffly in his chair, his eyes wide with alarm. “Jasper,” he said in a stricken voice.

At that moment, Kenneth Clairmont returned with Dr. Wells’s medical bag. “Mother,” he called, “are you feeling any better? I’ve brought—What’s wrong with Edgar?”

Dr. Wells moved toward the lawyer. “Shock, I expect.”

Grange gave a soft groan and appeared to be trying to shake off his indisposition. “Jasper,” he repeated.

“Come on, now, Edgar,” said Dr. Wells. “Here’s a nice brandy for you. You’ll get your strength back presently.”

Then the lawyer slumped forward. It was evident—from the knife protruding from between his shoulder blades—that his strength would not be returning any time soon. A ragged gasp escaped from the dying man’s lips. His left arm snaked forward across the surface of the table.

“Jasper,” he groaned, as his eyes turned glassy. A spasm shook his body as his fingers strained to touch the spirit slate lying at
the center of the table. It was only then, as Grange’s eyes closed for the final time, that I noticed the message written in a faint, scrawling hand. I snatched up the slate, scarcely able to believe my eyes.

“Dash?” My brother looked up from Mr. Grange’s side. “What does it say?”

I flipped the slate toward him and listened as he read aloud:

“Judgement is at hand.”

6

“E
VENING,
H
ARDEEN,” SAID
L
IEUTENANT
M
URRAY, TAPPING THE
brim of his hat. “You’re looking fit.”

“You don’t seem all that surprised to find me here, Lieutenant.”

“Why should I be? Your brother sent me a wire. At home, I might add. I was off duty.”

“Harry sent a wire?”

“Sure. It arrived as I was sitting down to a lamb stew. ‘Man stabbed by ghost,’ he says. ‘Come at once. Great Houdini investigating.’”

“And yet you came,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I came. I mean, I could have stayed home, I suppose, knowing that the investigation was proceeding with the Great Houdini at the helm, but I thought an official presence might be of some use.” He sighed and took off his hat.