cabinet. It is empty. The flaring light reflects off the red and gold wallpaper but there is no sign of the Major’s guest — or perhaps that should be his victim. The Major steps up to the cabinet and waggles his stick round the interior. It is definitely empty. The lanky man with the reddish hair and the pallor of a candle has disappeared.
After the Trick
Tom and Helen could only admire the way in which Sebastian Marmont inveigled Flask into stepping on to the stage and then entering the Perseus Cabinet. Tom had not taken seriously Marmont’s promise — or threat — that he would attempt to involve Flask in one of his acts but evidently the Major had been planning all the time to pick on the medium or at least to show him the superiority of his form of magic. That was why Eustace and Kitty were given complimentary seats near the stage and why Marmont had not allowed much time to pass before he selected Eustace, even though to most of the audience it would have seemed a random choice.
The Ansells were sitting at the back of the stalls with Julia Howlett and Septimus Sheridan. When they saw Flask whispering in Major Marmont’s ear, Helen also whispered in Tom’s ear, saying, ‘That is no love message.’
On Tom’s other side, Julia Howlett said rather more loudly, ‘I do hope nothing terrible is going to happen.’
Tom thought the magical act was reminiscent of Flask’s, except that everyone was aware it was done with the intention of deceiving and so, in a sense, no one could feel cheated. But there was the same role for the performer’s assistants: the Hindoos in Marmont’s act; Ambrose and Kitty in Flask’s. There was a similar introductory speech in which the performer drew attention, whether subtly or boastfully, to what he was going to do. There were invitations to check for fraud by examining clothes or furniture. There was even a comparison between the spirit cabinet used by Flask and the Perseus one belonging to Marmont.
The Ansells watched as the medium was almost pushed into the cabinet by Marmont, and the flute and drum noises started up. The Major duly reappeared and the doors were left open behind him to show that the cupboard was bare.
‘What next?’ said Helen.
‘I expect our friend will turn up through a trapdoor in the floor or something.’
‘I wouldn’t mind if he vanished for ever,’ said Helen but softly so that her aunt should not hear.
But Eustace Flask did not reappear. The performance was, seemingly, concluded even if in a rather unsatisfactory way. Wasn’t it part of the unspoken agreement between a magician and his audience that whatever had been done on stage, whether it was a breakage or a dismemberment or a disappearance, should be put right by the end of the show? But not this time. The Major and his Hindoos stepped forward to take the applause of the house and the curtain came down.
As the crowd was filing out, Tom observed Kitty pushing her way through it in an agitated way. It made him wonder exactly what had happened to Eustace Flask.
There were other interested parties in the Assembly Rooms that night. One of them was Frank Harcourt who had brought his wife Rhoda to see the sensational new magician. The couple were sitting in the less expensive seats, which Rhoda complained about from the moment they arrived. But her attention was soon caught by Marmont’s act and she forgot to gripe as the evening went on. When Eustace Flask was summoned to the stage she sat up straighter and nudged her husband in the ribs. For his part, Superintendent Harcourt was rather glad to see the medium shown up in the public eye. Perhaps it would hasten his departure from Durham. And he was even more glad when Flask did not emerge from the Perseus Cabinet. In fact, his hope that Flask might never reappear was at that instant being echoed by Helen Ansell.
In the cheapest seating at the top of the house was Ambrose Barker. He had been keeping a covert eye on Flask and Kitty for most of the day and turning over schemes of retribution in his mind without resolving on any firm plan. Ambrose might have wondered how Flask would manage without him but he was no fool and knew that the answer was, he would manage pretty well. Flask’s schemes in Durham had almost come to a head. He did not need help any longer putting up his spirit cabinet or taking off his frock-coat. So Ambrose was still undecided on his retaliation. He had not even decided whether Flask alone should feel the full force of his anger or whether Kitty ought to be included.
Seeing the pair heading for the theatre, and following at a distance, Ambrose had bought himself a sixpenny seat. Once the performance was underway he soon realized that the magician and the individual who’d tried to expose the guv’nor a couple of days before were one and the same person. Apart from the voice, there was something about the way the man held himself. When Flask was brought into the act, Ambrose relished his discomfort. And when Flask failed to come out of the Perseus Cabinet, Ambrose wondered how the trick was managed.
There was one other individual who attended the performance at the Assembly Rooms and who took a more than usually close interest in the proceedings. It was the man who had arrived in Durham on the same train as the Ansells, the man in the shabby clothes who had pretended to find Helen’s lilac handkerchief on the river path. He too had sat up straight at one point in the performance but it was nothing to do with Eustace Flask. Rather it was connected to the appearance of Major Sebastian Marmont. This individual had noticed the name on the advertisements plastered around town and bought a ticket. When he observed the soldier-turned-magician striding towards the footlights, when he heard the first words out of the performer’s mouth, he experienced a shock of recognition. And then he started to think, very hard.
Eustace Flask did not reappear again that evening or in the early part of the night. He failed to return to the house in Old Elvet. Kitty Partout waited up for him. She had already shoved her way backstage at the theatre to confront Major Marmont if necessary, only to find that the magician had departed and that no one seemed able to help her in her quest for the medium. Yes, he had ‘disappeared’ but it was all part of the show, wasn’t it? In real life, people don’t simply vanish in front of one’s eyes. It’s a trick, an illusion.
Kitty eventually dropped off in the small hours of the morning. She had not been sleeping very long when she was wakened by the sound of someone on the stairs. Kitty felt chill. But after a moment she recognized the tread as Eustace’s. From her bed she called out drowsily, ‘Where you been?’
Flask had not of course disappeared for good after his entry into the Perseus Cabinet. He might be physically untouched but he was the humiliated victim of a trick and he was very angry with Sebastian Marmont. Indeed, they had almost come to blows afterwards although, as during the session at Miss Howlett’s, the medium had restrained himself. He suspected that the Major would be capable of licking him with one hand tied behind his back. However, he had taken a kind of revenge on the magician and also had the pleasure of insulting his Indian assistant.
He spent at least an hour striding about the old town, feeding his fury against Marmont and contemplating further acts of retribution. It was not so far from midsummer and there was still a tinge of light in the west. Flask was now standing on Framwellgate Bridge looking down at the waters of the Wear. His heart was as dark as the river. Towering above him to his left were the silhouettes of the castle and the cathedral. It was close on midnight and perhaps not very safe for a nervous individual like Eustace Flask to be out and about alone. He started from his reverie when he heard footsteps on the cobbles behind him. He wheeled round. There were gaslights at each end of the bridge but he was standing in the middle in a pool of darkness.
A man was coming in his direction. Flask remembered the item which was tucked in one of his pockets. Too late to get it out now. He might have run but instead he was rooted to the spot, his back against the parapet of the bridge.
‘Don’t do it,’ said the man. ‘I have been watching you.’
Flask’s first reaction was one of relief. The man had an educated manner. He did not sound like a ruffian or a bludger.
‘Do what?’ he said, trying to control his voice.
‘Throw yourself into the river.’
‘It never crossed my mind,’ said Flask, truthfully. ‘I–I am out for a stroll.’
‘I wonder what it would be like to throw oneself from a bridge and plunge into the water,’ said the man. He was standing next to Flask by now. Then he turned about to stare down into the river. The medium could not make out much of the other’s appearance, except that he was clean-shaven and about Flask’s own height.
