The Osiris Ritual (6 page)

Even Newbury found himself leaning forward in his seat, straining to see what Alfonso would do next.

The magician moved off to the left-hand side of the stage, where a young female stagehand —

dressed in a most revealing costume of feathers and sequins - had wheeled on a large wooden rack fil ed with glittering swords. Alfonso stepped up to this and drew one of the blades. He held it high above his head, showing it off to the crowd. It reflected brightly in the dul light. Then, moving back to stand before the box containing the woman, he slapped the flat edge of the blade against the casket, causing it to clang noisily. Next he took the sharp end of the blade between his thumb and index finger and held it aloft, trying to flex the metal. The audience continued to watch, ful y enraptured.

Alfonso moved the casket around a little so that the crowd could see what he was about to do next. He took the point of the sword, found one of the thin notches that had been cut into the sides of the coffin-shaped box, and thrust the blade into it with all his might. The tip of the sword exited the box on the other side through another of the pre-cut slits. Alfonso pushed the blade home until the hilt of the sword was resting against the side of the box.

There was a gasp from the audience. Alfonso didn’t hesitate to soak up their admiration. He went back to the rack of swords, took another blade and proceeded to repeat his actions, first proving to the crowd that the blade was real, and then pushing it through the box — and, supposedly, the woman inside it —until its tip was clearly protruding from the other side. He did this again and again until the rack was empty and there were at least ten of the blades perforating the box. Finally, frenetic and short of breath from the exertion, he mounted the stool, placed the tip of a blade against the lid, and thrust it downwards through another hole, so that it slid through the box and burst out of another hole in the base. There was no way the woman inside the box could have survived.

Alfonso climbed down from the stool and stood before the audience. Panting, he rol ed his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. The audience were silent and agog. Smiling, Alfonso kicked the stool away and grasped hold of one end of the box. It was still resting on the low trol ey on which he had earlier wheeled it across the stage, and he spun it around for the audience, offering them a view of the casket from all sides. Newbury frowned. It was not at all clear what had happened to the woman. There were no obvious trapdoors in the base of the box, and if she had dropped out through a smal hatch in the bottom she would have been easy to spot. The only explanation was that she was stil inside the box, but Newbury found that hard to believe. The swords had certainly looked real enough, and he couldn’t see how Alfonso could have missed her when he inserted the blades, no matter how much precision he had used when cutting the guide holes prior to the event.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Newbury turned to see Veronica leaning in towards him, a smile on the curl of her lips.

“Most definitely. I’ll admit I was growing a little impatient with the performance until this most recent development. I haven’t a notion of how he has effected the woman’s escape from the box.

It’s really quite intriguing.”

Veronica laughed. “Perhaps there will be chance to ask him after the performance has finished.

If we’re not taking him into custody, that is.”

Newbury nodded. “Quite so.” He paused. “Look, he’s about to get her out again.”

They both turned back to see Alfonso removing the swords with abandon, sliding them out of the box and dropping them noisily to the stage. It took him only a moment before al of the blades had been extricated. He hesitated before the box. Then, with one last, grand gesture, he swept the lid from the top of the casket and stepped back, allowing the final scenes of his act to play out before him. There was a gentle cough from within the box, and then the woman sat up, looking around at the audience, her eyes wild with disorientation. There was a roar from the gathered crowd. The front rows stood, their applause deafening. Newbury smiled as he watched Alfonso enjoying the adoration of his fans. The man was definitely growing on him.

Alfonso returned the stool to its place beside the box and helped the young woman to step down, seeing her back to her seat in the second row. The female stagehand came out onto the stage and began col ecting up the swords, sliding them back into their housings in the wooden rack. When she had finished, Alfonso, smiling and nodding his appreciation to the audience, made his way back to where he’d left the open casket on the stage. He replaced the lid and then pushed it off to one side, allowing it to roll away on its castors. He turned to the crowd. “One more?” They roared again, loudly. Alfonso waved them to quieten down. “I shall warn you, though. This is no trifling feat of illusion.” His voice dropped to a staged whisper. “This time I offer you the chance to glimpse some real magic.” There was another cheer. Alfonso approached the very front of the stage. He threw his arms wide. “Then I find myself in need of another volunteer.”

This time hands shot up al across the theatre. Newbury turned to Veronica, and was appal ed to see she was also offering herself up as a volunteer, her hand raised high above her head. “Miss Hobbes! I feel strongly that this is not the safest course of action to pursue. We came to this place expecting to find a villain.”

Veronica turned to meet his gaze, but kept her hand raised in an effort to be seen from the stage. “And that is exactly what I intend to do, Sir Maurice. We need to get close enough to see how his illusions work.” Her whisper was strained. She clearly didn’t want to be pressed further.

Nevertheless, Newbury felt he had no choice.

“Real y, Miss Hobbes. I must insist that you lower your hand. I cannot sit by and al ow you to put yourself forward for such a dangerous enterprise, especially given the fact that you yourself are investigating this very man in connection with a series of missing women. I would be foolish to allow it. I quite understand your desire to bring this matter to a close, but I will not be responsible for allowing you to become one of your suspect’s many victims. Will you desist?”

Veronica drew a sharp breath and lowered her hand. “I wil .” She broke his gaze and returned her attention to Alfonso, who, whilst Newbury and Veronica had been debating, had chosen a volunteer from the audience and was in the process of helping her onto the stage. Newbury glanced at Veronica once more, unsure of her reaction, and then leaned forward in his chair to observe the goings-on that were taking place at the front of the theatre.

The volunteer was once again a young woman, this time with raven-dark hair and a lilac dress.

She seemed more confident than the previous volunteer, and, from what Newbury could gather from her manner, happy for the attention she was receiving. Alfonso stood her in the very centre of the stage. He bade her to remain still. Then he circled her, looking her up and down from al angles, as if studying her careful y, weighing her up with his eyes. He glanced up, catching sight of his stagehand standing off to one side, and beckoned her forward. She hurried over to him, handed him a red silk sheet, and then edged away again, smiling at the audience as she disappeared from view.

Alfonso turned to the audience. “Watch closely.” He unfurled the large red sheet and then draped it over the woman, spreading the edges out neatly so that they pooled on the floor around her, completely covering her from head to toe. Then, with barely a moment to catch his breath, he snapped his wrist and swept the sheet away again, flicking it up into the air in a bold dramatic flourish.

The woman was gone.

The crowd took a moment to react. The woman had completely vanished. There was not a trace of her to be seen. One minute she had been there, clearly evident beneath the thin silk sheet, the next she had entirely disappeared. There had been no sound, no sign of any movement. It was as if she had simply been swept up into the ether like an errant spirit.

Someone started to clap. Others fol owed. Soon the entire audience was standing, applauding the magician, who lingered just a moment longer on the stage, before offering a sweeping bow, col ecting his hat and then exiting stage left. The audience continued to clap, even after the final curtain was drawn.

Newbury turned to Veronica. He had to shout to make his voice heard over the clamour of the audience. “Now I’m impressed.”

Veronica nodded, a knowing look in her eye. “It’s what happens to her next that concerns me.”

Newbury smiled. “That, Miss Hobbes, is what we are here to find out.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s see if we can make our way around this crowd. I can’t imagine it will be too difficult to find our way backstage.”

Veronica rose to her feet. She was smiling. “Thank you, Sir Maurice.”

Newbury grinned as he offered her his arm. “Always a pleasure, Miss Hobbes. Always a pleasure.”

As Newbury had anticipated, it was not difficult for the two of them to find their way backstage.

Newbury was without doubt the best dressed man in the house, and after speaking in hushed tones with the wizened old man who was standing guard — sentry-like — on the artists’ entrance, the two Crown investigators soon found themselves admitted to the private area at the back of the theatre, passing themselves off as wealthy patrons who wanted to congratulate Alfonso on his excellent performance.

The Archibald Theatre was a small venue, and it was soon clear to Newbury that most of the space had been reserved for the paying guests. The conditions behind the scenes were cramped and dirty, and if the front of the house was dilapidated, the backstage area was ready to be condemned.

Newbury and Veronica found themselves in a short, narrow corridor, which terminated in an artists’ exit to the street behind the theatre, and contained a number of mildew-stained doors that opened into dressing rooms along either side. The wooden floorboards creaked alarmingly as they walked.

Newbury noticed that Veronica was lifting the hem of her yellow dress ever so slightly to avoid letting it trail on the dirty floor. Crossing to one of the open doorways, he peered into an empty dressing room with a grimace. The room had not seen use for some time, and had been al owed to become run-down and mouldy. The wal s were slick with damp, the floorboards peppered with rodent faeces and other, indescribable dirt, and the furniture had been piled up in one corner and was covered in a thick film of dust.

“It astounds me that the theatre can function in such a decrepit state.” Veronica wrinkled her nose as she joined Newbury in the doorway of the abandoned room. Her eyes were shining in the low light. She seemed full of energy and life, excited at finding herself here, in the midst of another adventure. Newbury couldn’t help but smile; the thril of the chase was upon her.

He nodded in agreement. “Quite. I fear the halcyon days of this particular establishment are long behind it.”

There was a sound of coughing from one of the other rooms along the corridor. Veronica turned her head. Newbury looked over her shoulder. There was no one in the doorway, but it was clear which room the sound had come from; the door had been propped open and a light was spil ing out into the corridor, causing shadows to flicker ominously up and down the walls. They made their way towards the light. Newbury hesitated in the doorway and rapped loudly, three times. He couldn’t see the occupant from where he was standing by the doorjamb, but what he could see of the room suggested it saw more frequent use than the dressing room he had seen just a moment before. Bil s were pasted all over the walls, gaudy posters advertising events that had long since moved on to other, more salubrious venues: strong-man acts, dancing girls, magicians from the Far East. A dressing table was pushed up against one wall, a top hat resting before the discoloured mirror, a sepia photograph of two women tucked into one corner against the glass. A dove fluttered its wings in a domed cage hanging from the ceiling. It looked uncomfortable in the small cage.

“What is it?” The man’s voice was gruff and unexpectedly English.

Newbury stepped across the threshold and into the room. Veronica fol owed behind him. The man — whom Newbury immediately recognised as Alfonso — was lounging in a chair, dressed in his shirtsleeves and trousers and smoking a long cigarette, on which he puffed luxuriously. Smoke plumed from his nostrils. He looked up at Newbury, a dour expression on his face. “The show’s over.

I think you must have taken a wrong turn.” He returned to studying his boots.

Newbury smiled. Al sense of the man’s Italian accent had gone, replaced by a Home Counties drawl. “On the contrary. I sought you out in order to offer my compliments, Mr. Alfonso. My name is Sir Maurice Newbury, and this is my associate, Miss Veronica Hobbes.”

At this mention of Newbury’s honorific, the magician seemed to snap to attention. He glanced at Veronica, seeing her properly for the first time. “Sir Maurice. Please forgive me. I’m sure you will understand that a venue such as this does not frequently attract clientele of the genteel variety.” His face cracked into a wide grin. He shifted his feet from where they were perched on a stool and stood, offering Newbury his hand. Newbury took it and shook it firmly. “So, what on earth attracted you to the Archibald this evening?”

“You, Mr. Alfonso. I hear your show has been causing quite a stir in the Home Counties and wanted to see it for myself.”

“Really? Well, thank you for taking an interest. And how did you find it? I hope it wasn’t a disappointment?”

“No. Not at all. It was most impressive. I was particularly taken with the card tricks. I’ve been studiously attempting to work out how you managed to effect them al so easily.”

Alfonso grinned. “Ha! Parlour tricks. It surprises me that a man of your distinction should be so taken with such trivialities.”

Veronica laughed. Newbury was pleased to see that she had taken his cue. “Wel , I for one was struck by how successfully you made that girl disappear. I am quite in awe of you, Mr. Alfonso. She seemed to vanish in a puff of smoke!”