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“It’s mine,” he ground out. “And I’ve not stolen anything, Mr. Cresswell.”
I removed my arm from Mephistopheles’s. I didn’t question how Thomas had sorted out whose ring it was; I knew if he was certain, then I was as well. “Did you place your signet there for me to find? What sort of game are you playing?”
“I may play the role of villain,” he said quietly, “but that does not make me one. Perhaps you ought to ask yourselves this: If not me, then who? Who else would wish to set suspicion on me? Who might benefit from the carnival being cast under scrutiny?” He shook his head, light glinting off the mask. “Making up your mind about a person before getting to know them makes you susceptible to true evil. I am not the villain of this story, no matter how hard you try to cast me as such. My signet was stolen at the start of the week. I didn’t wish to share the information.”
He was right, regardless of how much I wished to dispute him. We were quick to blame him, think the worst of him, based on our emotions, not facts. It was the first rule of being a decent scientist and investigator, and we’d broken it.
“Can either of you think of someone who might seek revenge?” he pressed. “I certainly can. But then I’m not the one wasting time crafting a narrative to explain away evil deeds. I’d suggest you turn your critical lens on the upper class. Where is Dr. Arden? He disappears for the majority of the voyage, and yet all you do is knock on his door a few times? And what of Miss Crenshaw’s father? Would a man that powerful simply accept his daughter’s fate? Would a lord sit politely back, knowing his precious girl had chosen a lowly carnival performer over her family and paid the ultimate price for it? Or would he destroy that which had destroyed him?”
“So you did carry on a secret affair with her?” I asked, troubled by the uncomfortable feeling in my center.
“She was a lonely girl in want of a friend, and I, too, was tired of being alone,” he said. “I listened to her fears. But that’s all that passed between us.”
He eyed his signet but didn’t make a move to take it back. Another surprise. Without saying another word, Mephistopheles brushed past Thomas, leaving us both to silently rethink our list of suspects. It was a passionate speech. The sharp words chosen with the eye of an expert marksman, one who knew how to both aim and strike his target. Whether it was a shot meant to distract or disarm, I couldn’t be sure.
Harry Houdini with wife, Bess
TWENTY-EIGHT
MILK-CAN ESCAPE
DINING SALOON
RMS ETRURIA
6 JANUARY 1889
Chandeliers flared brightly, then dimmed, our not-so-subtle clue the show was about to begin. Most of the chatter in the saloon halted, though the din of conversation never fully stopped. My heartbeat nearly tripled, though I couldn’t tell if it was fear of what might happen. The murderer hadn’t announced his last victim in a grand way, and I knew deep within my bones it was only a matter of time before horrific carnage was unleashed in sinister fashion.
One glance around the noticeably smaller crowd confirmed I wasn’t the only guest who worried about what might happen next. Empty seats stuck out like missing teeth in a forced grimace. One more night of terror and the audience might disappear altogether.
“I can’t believe your uncle insisted we spy on this show,” Thomas whispered. “Not that I’m complaining. This entrée is infinitely more pleasant than spending an evening with my nose in a severed limb. Or listening to Norwood bark at crew members.”
I sighed. Leave it to Thomas to break the heaviness of the night by comparing our supper to a postmortem. He hadn’t mentioned a word about my morning activities, and I decided to let it go for the moment. I was also grateful Uncle would miss possibly seeing Liza onstage again. Once she’d discovered he’d be sitting dinner out, she’d quickly made plans to assist with Harry’s act. Worry wedged itself between my shoulder blades. I hoped she wasn’t planning on creating her own theatrics tonight. Thomas cleared his throat, and I shook myself free of thoughts.
“Yes, well, when one must choose between herbed squab and putrid flesh,” I said, “it’s such a difficult decision.”
“Don’t worry.” Thomas flashed a mischievous grin. “There’ll be plenty of time for rotting flesh after dessert. I promised your uncle I’d assist directly after the show. You’re more than welcome to join, unless you’ve got more nefarious plans to attend to.”
Thomas’s tone was light, but I still saw shadows of doubt creeping across his expression. I did my best to smile, though I suddenly felt as if I were drowning. I had to practice for the finale and meet with the ringmaster for yet another lesson. Hopefully I’d gather more information regarding the murderer to make it all worthwhile. “Of course I’ll assist tonight.”
Uncle seemed to have forgiven me for rebelling against his one rule, his focus now entirely on the mystery of this ship. He believed—though others in his profession scoffed at the idea—that murderers frequented their crime scenes. Since someone was targeting members of the first-class passengers, he’d instructed us to continue being social. Take note of anything even slightly amiss. We were to be spies and apprentices and detectives in one—a challenge we were both eager to accept.
Mrs. Harvey cut into her roasted squab, either purposely not listening to our less-than-savory dinner talk or happily lost in her own thoughts. I sipped from my water goblet, focus straying to the stage as the lights dimmed and stayed that way. A moment later Mephistopheles appeared, rising from the dark pit beneath center stage, surrounded by the usual cloud of smoke. Against my better judgment, my heart gave an excited jump.
For the first time I realized he was similar to a phoenix rising from the ashes. While I’d been working to unravel the mystery surrounding the murders, I was no closer to unearthing any clues about him or who he’d truly been before taking his stage persona. Perhaps he had burned his old life to the ground and emerged into something untouchable.
“Welcome to the sixth evening of the greatest show from sea to sea,” Mephistopheles said. “Tonight you will bear witness to the most magnificent escape of our time. Or perhaps… perhaps you will see a young man’s life ended before your very eyes. I make no guarantee that the next performer will survive. Victory will make him a legend, but failure means a drowning death.”
The silence that followed his opening statement was palpable. No one wanted to witness a man drown, especially after the last few nights. I knew the importance of carrying on after death, but this seemed a bit crude considering the circumstances.
Mephistopheles clapped his hands twice, and assistants rolled something onto the stage hidden by a velvety curtain. It took a great effort by my cousin and Isabella to push the massive object to the center of the floor. Trepidation wound its way through my body.
“What you see here is a galvanized-iron vessel filled to the brim with water.” Mephistopheles nodded toward Isabella and Liza. They yanked the curtain off, revealing the large milk can. “Not only will Houdini submerge himself in this milk can, we will secure it with massive locks, ensuring that not even he can escape.”
Murmurs broke out, and the room seemed to take a collective breath. Climbing into a can full of water was dangerous enough, but locking it was a new level of madness. Mephistopheles allowed worry to simmer, enjoying the bubbling torment of the carnival’s patrons. I could have sworn his eyes twinkled a bit more at their distress.
“There, there, everyone,” he said in a soothing tone. “I’ll allow Houdini the honor of announcing the rest.” Mephistopheles threw his hands out to either side, welcoming his star to the night stage. “Behold the incredible, the impossible, the intoxicatingly terrifying escape artist of the nineteenth century! Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Great Houdini!”
