Urbane, smiling, the elusive Houdini appeared in the office of "The
Sun" at 12 o'clock. R. D. Polling and H. Guthrie, the two attendants
from Mayview detailed to truss him up, awaited him, and with them the
straight-jacket, in a satchel.
Houdini shook hands with both men, speaking humorously of his position
as substitute for the deranged persons the two Attendants ordinarily
handle. The two men, clad in the white uniforms used by them when on
duty, surveyed their voluntary victim noted his short, stocky form, his
powerful arms and shoulders, his steady, bright eyes.
Both have had long experience in binding frenzied men. Both were
determined, they told Houdini, to use the full resource of that
experience in binding him. They knew the prowess of the man they had to
deal with. They did not comment upon the outcome of the test.
They were there, they said, to do their work as best they knew how.
Houdini urged speed of action, and absolute surety in fastening the
innumerable straps of the straight-jacket.
"Treat me," he advised, smiling, "as you would the most dangerous of
the criminal insane."