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The second hand echoed like a gong, all the while Houdini remained below water.
Tick. Tick. Tick. More gasps burst forth from people in the dining saloon. Forty-eight seconds had now passed with the escape artist still submerged. Liza and Isabella shifted, their pretty smiles frozen in place.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Mephistopheles called out, “One minute.”
Thomas tapped along to the ticking of the clock, the sound setting my nerves into more of a tizzy. I clamped my jaw together until it ached. At the minute-and-a-half mark, Liza and Isabella casually lifted the domed lid. Houdini burst upward, hands still shackled, and drew in a ragged breath. Water splashed onto the stage, the sound not even close to as lulling as the waves outside.
Houdini drew in a few more deep breaths, eyes twinkling. “This time, instead of just a demonstration, my assistants will also padlock the lid, making escape nearly impossible. I'll either set myself free…”
Mephistopheles walked over and patted his shoulder. “Or we shall set your corpse out to sea.”
A few patrons stood and quietly left the room. Light from the corridor flashed each time the door opened and closed, the illumination adding to my twisting worry. Houdini dunked underwater, and Liza and Isabella secured the lid, this time padlocking it in two places. While the
y did that, the ringmaster started the ticking of the clock—it took nearly thirty seconds for the lid to be locked. Surely Houdini would be exhausted after already demonstrating the act. It was beyond madness to do it again so soon; this was a death wish.
My heart knocked frantically, searching for a way out. There had to be an explanation for the trick, but I couldn’t locate one. This time, Liza and Isabella covered the milk can with a curtained screen. It was midnight-blue velvet with a thousand silver stars embroidered onto it.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I couldn’t decide if Thomas’s tapping or the incessant ticking was worse. Mrs. Harvey twisted her napkin in her lap, eyes fastened to the starry curtain.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I moved about my seat; there were so many more-pressing things to be concerned with. The severed limb. The slain women. The identity of the murderer who might be in this very room… yet my pulse roared at the possibility of what was happening behind that curtain.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“One minute, thirty seconds,” Mephistopheles said. I had no idea if I’d imagined the strain in his tone. Passengers grumbled as the clock ticked on. What had started as good fun was turning into panic. A few people pushed back from their seats, fists clenched at their sides.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Two minutes.” Mephistopheles’s foot tapped faster than the clock. Both Liza’s and Isabella’s arms began trembling, the curtain wavering with them. “Two minutes thirty seconds.”
“Help him!” a man cried, followed by another. “Release him!”
“Something must be wrong!” another passenger yelled. The crowd grew uneasy. More pleas cropped up. Still, the ringmaster kept his focus stuck to the ticking second hands.
“Three minutes!” he nearly shouted. Sweat beaded his hairline. Either he was the most talented actor the world had ever known, or something was going dreadfully wrong.
I stared at my cousin, noting the way her eyes kept darting to the clock. By now almost everyone in the crowd was on their feet, yelling, demanding action. I was about to jump onstage and open the bloody can myself when Mephistopheles yelled, “Check him now!”
The curtain dropped in an instant, revealing a soaking wet, unshackled Houdini. He bowed deeply as the crowd went utterly wild with applause and whistling.
“I don’t believe it,” I muttered. “How on earth did he manage to get the padlocks back onto the can?”
Thomas opened his mouth, but Mrs. Harvey silenced him with a look. “Not a word out of you, dear. Or I swear I’ll finish my story about poor Mr. Harvey and his underthings.”
I’d never seen Thomas snap his jaws together faster. I wanted to smile, but found it nearly impossible as my gaze caught on Houdini’s. There was something in the gleam of his eyes that made all the hair on my arms stand at attention. I’d thought for certain he’d be the next victim, and I had a troubling feeling he knew it.
TWENTY-NINE
A FRIGHTFUL DISCOVERY
THIRD-CLASS PROMENADE
