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."
Chapter Five
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.