Daniel Stashower - The Dime Museum Murders

From the Chesterfield, Mrs. Hendricks began applauding at the apparent conclusion of the effect. Her husband and Dr. Blanton joined in, as did a handful of the policemen. Le Fant ф me nodded its head as if to acknowledge the applause.

"You see?" Harry cried. "It is a harmless trick, a simple effect with cards. Officer Robbins, you may now turn over the card that Le Fant ф me has indicated. It is the card you selected, is it not?"

Robbins looked at the card, hesitated, and looked again. "Uh, no, sir," he said. "I picked the five of clubs. This is the nine of diamonds."

"What? Impossible!" Harry darted forward and snatched the card from the patrolman's hand, glaring at it with undisguised annoyance. "This cannot be!" He winced at the sound of sniggering from the back of the room. "Le Fant ф me is foolproof! Possibly its workings have become fouled through the years of disrepair, or perhaps I failed to-"

We never learned what Harry might have failed to do. Throughout his tirade, a remarkable change had come over Le Fant ф me. Unseen by Harry, who had his back to the desk, the automaton stirred to life once again. This time, its right hand-which held the tiny bamboo tube- rose from the folds of its robe. With a swift, sure movement, the figure raised the tube to its lips in the manner of a blow gun. Lieutenant Murray gave a cry of warning and hurled himself across the desk at my brother. The pair of them crashed to the floor just as some ten or twelve of New York's finest dove for cover.

No poison dart came. Instead we heard a gentle puff of air and the sound of a wet splotch. Very deliberately, my brother disentangled himself from Lieutenant Murray, dusted off his trousers, and rose to his feet.

"I appreciate your concern for my safety," he said, "but I assure you it was not necessary. You will see that one of the remaining cards is now marked with a spot of red pigment." He held up the card to show a blob of red coloring. "This is what Le Fant ф me expels from its pipe-and the only thing it is capable of expelling. So you see, Le Fant ф me cannot be the culprit. Therefore, someone else must have slipped into this room, killed Mr. Wintour, and slipped out again without disturbing the locks or arousing the suspicions of the household. I suspect, Lieutenant Murray, that this will alter the direction of your inquiries."

The lieutenant said nothing. He stared down at Le Fant ф me' s wooden smile while the tendons in his neck worked back and forth.

"Oh, and one last thing," my brother said. He held up the card with the red splotch. "Officer Robbins, would you care to show our friends the card which Le Fant ф me has marked?"

Robbins flipped the card face-front to show the five of clubs.

From the desk, we heard a soft wooden creak as Le Fant ф me's lips pulled back in a chilling smile.

"Harry," I said, after we had walked a few blocks from the Wintour mansion, "you really can't treat the police like that."

"Why can I not?" he asked.

"It's disrespectful. Lieutenant Murray is just doing his work. It's one thing to make a suggestion. It's another to humiliate him."

"I needed to demonstrate that Le Fant ф me could not have been the instrument of murder."

"It would have been enough to explain it to him. You didn't need to put on the whole song and dance routine."

He seemed to consider it. "It is my nature," he said. "I see these men in uniform and something in me grows angry. Men in uniform have not always been kind to me-to our family." We walked on for a few moments in silence before he continued. "Besides, it is what I do," he said, as if considering the matter for the first time. "I escape from restraints. Chains. Ropes. Handcuffs. One day, this will mean something to people-to the immigrants who escaped to America just as our mother and father did. They will see a man escaping from fetters and they will recall their struggles. They will think of freedom."

I studied his face as we passed under a street lamp. My brother was not a man given to introspection. When it came, however, it was generally worth the wait. "But you are probably right," he allowed. "If I took an improper tone with Lieutenant Murray, I will apologize in the morning."

"Are you certain that you're right about this?" I asked. "Isn't it possible that the automaton could have fired the dart?"

"Yes," he admitted, "but not without a splotch of red pigment. There is no firing mechanism apart from a bladder filled with liquid. This is squeezed between two cogwheels so that a small amount of dye squirts forth. If the poison dart had been loaded into the figure's blow pipe it might possibly have been propelled into the victim's neck, but not without an accompanying splash mark."

We stopped at a corner and waited for a horse and trap to pass by. "I find that possibility very unlikely, though," Harry said. "If I were attempting to stage manage the murder of Mr. Wintour, I would never place my confidence in so unreliable a device. What is the likelihood that a poison dart fired in such a way would find its target? It seems incredible to me that it should have struck Mr. Wintour at all, much less that it hit him in a vulnerable spot. How could the murderer even be certain that the blow pipe would be facing in Mr. Win-tour's direction when it fired?" He shook his head. "If I were a murderer, I would not be content to leave so much to chance."

"But if Le Fant ф me didn't kill him, how did the murderer get out of the study? It was locked from the inside."

"A pretty problem, is it not?"

"Yes, Harry. A pretty problem. Do you have the answer?"

"I confess I do not," he said. "Although no doubt the Great Houdini could think of at least seven ways to enter the study undetected. But I must gather more data. After all, I never guess. It is a shocking habit-destructive to the logical faculty."

" 'Destructive to the logical'-is that another bit of wisdom from the pages of Sherlock Holmes, by any chance?"

He pretended not to hear me.

"Where are we going, by the way?" I asked. "The house is in the other direction."

"We're going to see Josef Graff."

"The magic dealer? He's being held at police headquarters!"

"I'm aware of that, Dash. That's why we're going to see him. I want to assure him that the Great Houdini will secure his release at the earliest opportunity."

"Harry-"

"Did I not prove beyond all doubt that Le Fant ф me could not have been the cause of Branford Wintour's death? And yet, when I insisted that Mr. Graff be released, Lieutenant Murray refused!"

"He didn't refuse, Harry. He merely said-"

"-that it would be necessary to confirm my 'interesting speculations' before the suspect could be released. Yes, Dash. I heard him. What twaddle! Such is the man whom you would have me treat with greater respect."

I hauled out my Elgin pocket watch and popped open

the cover. "It's late, Harry. They won't let us in at this hour. We'll have to wait until morning."

"Well, perhaps not quite that long," Harry said. "First we will call on Mrs. Graff. The poor woman is undoubtedly distraught."

"That's a good idea," I said. "Perhaps you could run the shop for her until Mr. Graff is released."

"Run the shop? Don't be foolish! I intend to see her husband vindicated! The Great Houdini will not rest until Josef Graff is released from his bonds!"