Philip Gooden: The Durham Deception

‘Which you knew was anonymous,’ said Tom. ‘I remember you told us it was anonymous yet neither of us had said it was.’

‘Not very conclusive, I should think,’ said the Major. ‘Most notes of that style sent to the police are likely to be anonymous.’

‘But the box smelt of those cigarettes which you are smoking at the moment,’ said Helen. ‘It made me think of you at once.’

‘Ah, the Luxor. Produced by the Alexandria Company of Artillery Lane, you know. Well, it was decent of you not to pass on your suspicions to Harcourt.’

‘And then the hunt switched to Smight,’ said Tom. ‘Because he had carried out several murders already and intended to do more, it was natural that he should be thought responsible for Flask’s. Whether you intended it or not, it was a piece of distraction like a conjuring trick. People stopped looking in the right direction.’

‘I admit that Smight’s arrest sat on my conscience,’ said the Major. ‘If he had been tried for the murder of Eustace Flask, I am not sure what I would have done. But he was sentenced for quite a different offence. And so everyone assumes that he did for Flask too. Except you, my dear friends.’

‘Yes,’ said Tom.

‘Are you going to inform on me?’

‘You are a client of Scott, Lye amp; Mackenzie. I suppose this counts as a privileged communication. As you say, a man has already been executed. It is difficult to mourn for Flask. He was an unscrupulous man.’

‘That is hardly cause for a death sentence. But I thank you for… for a kind of absolution. In any case, I and my troupe are not intending to remain in England. This was our last, positively our last, performance. We are returning to India. My brother-in-law Mr Gopal will be happy to see his homeland once more. And I cannot tell you how much I long to go back to the country of my earlier days. I have been considering exploring further. They say that in Tibet there is a sect whose members live until they are two hundred years old. That would be some trick, eh?’

Their conversation was interrupted by the return of Dilip Gopal and Alfred, Albert and Arthur from their supper in the chop-house. The immaculately suited Indian shook hands with Tom and Helen and the boys stood in a dutiful line.

‘Now, how should we end the story?’ said the Major.

He glanced towards the Goldoni Cabinet. It was rather larger than the Perseus Cabinet, and decorated in black and gold. It was surmounted with a kind of prow which suggested a Venetian gondola.

‘I would appreciate it very much if you were to be the first witnesses to my latest creation. Please… examine it.’

He opened the double doors. Tom and Helen together inspected the interior of the Goldoni Cabinet. There was a gas lantern burning in the interior but there were no mirrors as far as they could see. The walls were lined in rich paper but there was a lack of hidden compartments, of secret doors. They walked round it and, again, it seemed to be a solid construction.

When they had finished their inspection, the Major said, ‘It’s a piece of work. I tell you, this will set the world of magic by the ears. People will talk about this trick for years to come. Now, boys, I think that there is room for all of you to fit in together.’

And, obediently, Alfred and Arthur and Albert filed into the Goldoni Cabinet, and Marmont closed the doors upon them.

‘Usually, of course, you would be hearing some distracting music at this point to mask… well, whatever it is that needs masking. But there are no distractions here.’

He waved his arms in the direction of the cabinet. Mr Gopal opened the double doors to reveal the interior, empty. The boys were nowhere in sight. Tom and Helen were stuck between bewilderment and admiration. They had been standing only about a dozen feet away. How had the trick been accomplished?

‘Now, Mr Gopal, if you please.’

The Indian stepped into the cabinet and shut the doors upon himself. The Major allowed a few moments to pass before opening them again. Mr Gopal too had vanished. Helen gasped. Tom rubbed his eyes. He wondered if they were the subjects of some mesmeric process.

As if he could read their minds — which perhaps he could — Marmont said, ‘There is no mental manipulation here, Mr and Mrs Ansell. No hypnotism or forced hallucination. What you are seeing is real. Real but a trick. Like all the best tricks it is clever and simple at the same time. Now it is my turn.’

He put on his solar topi to signal his departure.

‘Wait a moment, Major,’ said Helen.

‘At least call me Sebastian once, my dear.’

‘Are we going to see you again, Sebastian?’

‘You might if you visit India. But I don’t think you’ll see me again in the Egyptian Hall or in Piccadilly — or Regent’s Street or Lambeth, for that matter.’

‘You sound as if you are going off on an expedition,’ said Tom. ‘A voyage.’

‘The voyage of illusion,’ said Sebastian Marmont. Then he laughed. ‘There, isn’t that the kind of thing you would expect a stage magician to say? A good example of professional patter. Now — ’

He bent forward and gave Helen a peck on the cheek. He stuck out a manly hand for Tom to grasp. Then he stepped up into the empty Goldoni Cabinet. ‘I shall close the doors. Allow me, oh, say five seconds to make my dispensations. Then you may have a look.’

The doors clicked to. The lights in the preparation room flickered, as if blown by a draught. Aloud, Helen and Tom counted to five. As one they moved towards the cabinet. They opened the double doors. They peered inside.

The gaslight within burned as bright as ever.

But the Major had gone.