THE GREAT CHALLENGE
When John Martin came into tea that afternoon, he gave Gladys a shock.
Despite the fact that he had been in the sun all day and was much
tanned in consequence he had never looked--so Gladys thought--so old
and haggard.
"You dear old Daddie!" she said, hastening to pour him out some tea,
"you shouldn't work so hard--this silly digging has quite knocked you
up! Haven't you finished?"
"Yes, I've finished!" John Martin said, catching his breath. "I've
found water!"
"Nonsense!"
"It's true all the same. We struck it at exactly the distance he
said--twenty feet."
"Then of course he knew."
"How? How the deuce could he have known?"
"I can't say," Gladys replied. "All I know is, that he's not straight,
and that there's some underhand trickery going on. But do have your
tea now, and dismiss it from your mind. Anyhow, he can do you no
harm."
"Here's a letter for you, John," Mrs. Templeton exclaimed, entering
the room at that moment.
John Martin took it from her, and tore open the envelope curiously. It
was a handwriting he did not know, and did not like--its
characteristics were sinister.
"I knew it!" he cried; "I knew the fellow was a scoundrel. What the
deuce do you think he has the impertinence to do now?"
"He!" Gladys said, looking anxiously at her father. "Whoever do you
mean?"
"Why, that confounded young bounder who came here last night--Leon
Hamar he signs himself. In this letter he declares that he can perform
any of our tricks, and will accept the wager I offered for their
solution some little time ago. He also says that unless I consent to
see him, and to listen courteously to what he has to say, he will
publicly announce his intention of taking up the wager, at our Hall,
in Kingsway, to-night."
"Do you think there is any possibility of his having discovered the
secrets of your tricks?" Gladys asked. "Could he have bribed any one
to tell him?"
"I don't think so," John Martin said. "The only people who have any
clue as to how they are done are my two attendants--both as you know
natives of Cashmere, and men who, I feel pretty certain, could not be
'got at.'"
"In that case," Gladys remarked, "I fail to see what there is to worry
about. Your course is perfectly clear--take no notice of it."
John Martin was silent--dazed. He did not know what to think or do!
There was something painfully ominous to him in the discovery of the
money and the water--something that accentuated the impression Hamar's
sinister appearance had made on him. The man did not look
ordinary--his manner, gestures, walk and expression were decidedly
abnormal--in fact they put him in mind of the superphysical. The
superphysical! Might not that account for his knowledge? Bah! There
was no such thing as the superphysical. The man was extraordinary--but,
after all, only a man--his knowledge only that of a man. And it must
be as the shrewd Gladys conjectured--he had put the money in the tree
himself and had learned of the presence of water through some subtle
artifice--perhaps only guessed at it. He would defy him--let him do
what he would!
This was John Martin's decision as he finished tea. An hour later he
had changed his mind, and was speaking to Hamar on the telephone,
expressing his willingness to grant him a brief interview if he came
at once.
In rather less than an hour a motor drew up at the Martins' door and
Hamar stepped out of it.
"Glad to find you in a more tractable mood, Mr. Martin," he exclaimed
on being ushered into the latter's presence. "I reckoned you would
sing to a different tune when you found that water. Would you like me
to give you a few more samples of my skill, before we proceed to
business?"
"Name your business at once," John Martin replied gruffly; "I haven't
many minutes to spare."
"No!" Hamar said, "that's a pity; because part of what I have at the
back of my brain may take more than a few minutes arranging. The
situation in a nutshell is this. You have a pretty daughter, Mr.
Martin?"
"How dare you, sir?" John Martin broke in, clenching his fist.
"Gently, gently, Mr. Martin!" Hamar observed, backing towards the
door. "Gently--you promised to give me a courteous hearing. I meant no
offence. I say I admire your daughter immensely--she takes the shine
out of our American girls."
"The deuce she does!" John Martin foamed.
"She does, you bet!" Hamar went on. "And I see no reason if she likes
me, why we couldn't get engaged. I would do the thing handsomely as
far as money goes. What do you say?"
"I say that unless you're very careful I shall break my promise and
kick you."
"I would pay you a big lump sum to take me into partnership," Hamar
went on complacently, "and I would introduce a number of new tricks
that would stagger creation. I shouldn't be in any hurry to marry--the
length of the engagement would be for you to decide."
"Then it would be _ad infinitum_," John Martin said grimly, "for
you'll never get my consent to a marriage."
"Never is a long day--and even a John Martin may change. You want new
blood and new capital in your Firm--you would have both in me. I
assure you your show would boom as it has never boomed before!"
"And the only condition on which you offer me all this is my
daughter?"
"You have said it--that is the one and only condition. Your
daughter--my brains, my dollars."
"I have decided!" John Martin said.
"Good!" Hamar exclaimed; "I guessed you would! There's nothing like
the almighty dollar, is there?"
"Yes!" John Martin rejoined; "the almighty fist--and that's what
you'll get if you don't clear out of this house instantly. And if you
ever come skulking round here again, or write me any more letters I'll
set my. solicitor on to you."
"Then it's war--war to the knife!" Hamar sneered. "How melodramatic!
But it won't last long. I shall yet be your partner--and I shall yet
have Miss Gladys! Au revoir--I won't say good-bye!" and with a mock
bow he hurriedly took his departure.
That night Messrs. Martin and Davenport's entertainment had progressed
as usual for about half an hour when it suddenly came to a full stop.
A man in the lowest tier of boxes had risen and was addressing the
audience in a loud voice: "Ladies and gentlemen!"
In an instant all heads swung round and there were stentorian shouts
of "Silence!"
But Curtis--for it was he--was not easily daunted. "Do you call this
fair play!" he demanded; "I am here to-night to make a sporting offer,
and one which will afford you vast entertainment."
Cries of "Shut up!" "Silence!" "He's drunk!" "Turn him out!" merging
into one loud roar forced him to pause. Several uniformed officials
now invaded the box, but Hamar--who, as well as Kelson, was with
Curtis--fixing them with his big dark eyes that gleamed eerily in the
half-lowered lights of the house--for the stage only at that moment
was fully illuminated--held them in check, and they hung back not
knowing what to do. This move of Hamar's took with a large section of
the audience--some of whom were possessed with sporting instincts,
whilst others were merely curious--and the somewhat premature cries of
"Turn him out!" etc., were soon lost in vociferous shouts of: "Let
them alone!" "Let them speak!" "Let us hear what they have to say." It
was in the midst of this hubbub that John Martin in a great state of
nervous agitation came to the front of the stage and inquired the
cause of the commotion. The shouting still continued, and Gladys, who
had come to the performance anticipating something of the sort, called
to her father, from the wings, bidding him give Curtis permission to
speak.
"You will lose all sympathy if you don't, Father," she added; "and
besides you have nothing to fear. It's sheer bravado and impudence on
their part."
Thus advised, for Gladys was a level-headed girl, John Martin gave in;
and the audience showed their approval by a vigorous round of
clapping.
"I wish I were spokesman," Kelson sighed, his eyes glistening at the
sight of so many pretty upturned faces. "Go on, old man!" he added,
giving Curtis a nudge. "Fire away, and show them you know a bit about
elocution, for the credit of the Firm."
Curtis needed no encouragement. What little bashfulness he had once
possessed he had certainly left behind in San Francisco, for he leaned
over the front of the box and smiled familiarly at the audience.
"I am Edward Curtis," he said, "one of the directors of the Modern
Sorcery Company Ltd. Messrs. Martin and Davenport have so often
boasted that no one outside their firm can perform their tricks that I
have come here to-night resolved to disillusion them. I not only
accept their offer of ten thousand pounds for the solution of their
tricks, but I agree to pay them double that amount--cash down--if I do
not do everything they do--from 'The Brass Coffin' to their
world-famed 'Pumpkin Puzzle.' With Messrs. Martin and Davenport's
permission I will explain one and all of their tricks to you to-night,
and the only thing I ask of you, ladies and gentlemen, is to see that
I get fair play."
A spontaneous outburst of clapping followed this speech, and as soon
as it had ceased one of the audience who had risen and was waiting to
speak, said: "I trust Messrs. Martin and Davenport will accept this
challenge, and allow the Modern Sorcery Company the opportunity here,
in this hall to-night, of displaying their skill--or their ignorance,
as the case may be. If Messrs. Martin and Davenport's tricks cannot be
performed by any outsider--the Firm in accepting this challenge will
merely be twenty thousand pounds the richer--and if--as is hardly
likely, Messrs. Martin and Davenport should be outwitted, I am sure
they themselves will be amongst the first to congratulate their
successful rivals. I, for one, am quite ready to act as referee."
"I too!" shouted a dozen other voices. "Be a sport and accept his
bet!"
"Ladies and gentlemen," John Martin replied with dignity, "you have
given me no alternative; I accept the challenge. Perhaps those who
have so kindly volunteered to act as referees will see that order is
maintained whilst I go on with my performance, at the conclusion of
which Mr. Curtis--I think that is the name of my rival--will be quite
at liberty to try his exposition of my tricks."
The performance then proceeded, and when it was over, Curtis, Hamar
and Kelson, accompanied by six of those of the audience who had
volunteered to act as referees, stepped on to the stage. Seats were
provided for the referees--three on the one side of the stage and
three on the other; and having seen that everything was fair and
square John Martin retired to the O.P. wing, behind which Gladys was
concealed.
A brief description of "The Brass Coffin" trick, which was the first
Messrs. Hamar, Curtis and Kelson proceeded to explain, will, perhaps,
suffice.
A massively constructed brass-bound coffin is handed round to the
audience, who carefully examine it, and being unable to discover
anything amiss, pronounce themselves satisfied that it is genuine.
The operator then summons an assistant, jokingly refers to him as "the
corpse"--puts him into a sack, made to represent a winding-sheet,
securely binds the sack with a piece of cord, and asks one of the
audience to seal it. The sack and its contents are then placed in the
coffin which is locked and corded. The operator then throws a sheet
over the coffin, lets it remain there for a few seconds, and on
removing it and opening the lid, the coffin, is found to be empty. A
shout from the front of the House makes every one turn round, when, to
their amazement, "the corpse" is seen standing up at the back of "the
Pit," holding the sack with the rope and seal--intact--in his hand.
Such was the marvellous feat which had been accomplished in Martin and
Davenport's Hall night in and night out for years, the solution of
which no one as yet had been able to discover. One can imagine, in
these circumstances, the tremendous excitement of the audience at the
prospect of seeing this notorious puzzle tackled--and tackled by a
member of a Firm which was already reputed to be doing all kinds of
weird and extraordinary things. But, whereas it was quite obvious that
John Martin was greatly perturbed (his eyebrows were working
nervously, and his lips and fingers twitching), Curtis, on the other
hand, was as cool as possible--he literally did not turn a hair.
"Now, gentlemen," he said, turning to the referees, "keep your eyes
well skinned and observe everything I do. Ladies and gentlemen," he
went on, raising his voice, "I am now about to show you how the coffin
trick is done. Observe me--I'm 'the corpse'--Mr. Kelson, here, is the
operator--" and Matt Kelson, rather to Hamar's annoyance advanced,
down the stage to take part in the proceedings.
"Watch me get into the sack!" He stepped into it as he spoke. "Look at
what I have in my hand," he went on, holding up his right hand in full
view of the audience. "I have a plug of wood covered with the same
material as this sack. As soon as I stoop down and the sack is pulled
over me I shall thrust this plug into the mouth of it and Mr. Kelson
will bind the sack round it. I shall then be put into the coffin. You
think you know this coffin but you don't. See!"--and stepping out of
the sack he tapped the head of the coffin, which was very broad and
deep. "Come closer!" and he beckoned to the referees, whose numbers
were now augmented by three newspaper reporters--representatives of
the _Daily Snapper_, the _Planet_ and the _Hooter_ respectively. "Here
is a secret panel worked by a spring. I will press, and you will press
too."
And amidst a breathless silence--the nine members of the audience on
the stage following every movement--Curtis put his hand inside the
head of the coffin and touched a very slight elevation in the wood. In
an instant, by a wonderfully neat piece of mechanism, a panel slid
back, leaving just sufficient room for a man of moderate dimensions to
squeeze through.
Everyone now looked at John Martin--he was leaning back in his chair,
breathing hard, his eyes starting out of his head, his cheeks white.
Hamar saw him and grinned, grinned malevolently, but the smile died
out of his face when he glanced at Gladys--the scorn in the girl's
eyes made his blood boil.
"All right, Miss Martin," he muttered between his teeth; "you adopt
that attitude now, but you will adopt a very different one later on!
I'll win you body and soul, or my name is not what it is."
He was interrupted in this amiable reflection by Curtis. "I'm too
stout to play the rôle of the corpse, and so is Matt," Curtis said to
him; "you must undertake that part. Now!" he went on, "take this plug
and get into the sack," and he whispered a few instructions in his
ear. Then he tied the top of the sack--in reality tying it round the
plug Hamar was holding--and one of the audience sealed the knot.
Curtis and Kelson then lifted Hamar into the coffin, shut the lid and
corded it. Then Curtis, turning to the audience, said:
"What is now happening inside the coffin is this--'the corpse' pulls
the plug out of the mouth of the sack from the inside. The cord thus
becomes loose and 'the corpse' is able to open the sack. He at once
touches the spring I pointed out to you in the head of the coffin, and
the panel slides back--So!"
And as the audience looked, they saw the panel slide back, and first
of all Hamar's head, and then his body, wriggle through the aperture
thus made.
"The reason why you, audience, cannot see him make his escape is
this," Curtis explained; "the head of the coffin is always turned away
from you and placed against a mirror which you can't see, and which to
you appears but the continuation of the stage. In this mirror exactly
opposite the head of the coffin is an aperture, and it is through this
'the corpse' makes his exit to the back of the stage. I will show it
you. Here it is"--and beckoning to the referees to come quite close,
he pointed to a glass screen, in the centre of the base of which was a
glass trap-door, corresponding in height and girth to the head of the
coffin. "Here, corpse!" Curtis said, "crawl through"--and Hamar,
looking as if he by no means appreciated the undignified task of
wriggling on his stomach before so many eyes, drew himself as tight
together as he could, and squirmed through.
"Does that satisfy you, gentlemen?" Curtis inquired.
"Perfectly!" the referees answered. "Nothing could be plainer. We see
exactly, now, how the trick is done."
At this there was a loud outburst of clapping, and Curtis bowed in the
elegant manner in which he had been patiently and assiduously coached
by Kelson.
He then proceeded to the second trick--"Eve at the Window," a trick
almost, if not quite, as famous as "The Brass Coffin," and for the
solution of which Martin and Davenport had frequently offered huge
sums of money.
A large pane of glass some nine by six feet in area, and set in
a frame, made to represent that of a window, is placed on the
stage, about eighteen inches from the floor. Thirty-six inches
from the ground a wooden shelf is placed against the window. An
assistant--usually a woman--then mounts on the shelf and, looking out
of the glass, proceeds to kiss her hand vigorously. The operator in a
shocked voice asks her to desist. She refuses and, to the amusement of
the audience, carries on her pantomimic flirtation more desperately
than before. The operator pretends to lose his temper, and snatching
up a screen places it at the back of her. He then fires a pistol,
pulls aside the screen, and she has vanished. As the top, bottom and
sides of the window, all in fact except the very middle, have been in
full view of the audience, and as the window has been tightly closed
all the time, the disappearance of the girl completely mystifies the
audience.
Curtis explained it all. He pointed out that the keynote to the
illusion lay behind the wooden shelf, which was so placed as to
conceal the fact that the lower part of the window was made double,
the bottom of the upper part being concealed from view by a second
sheet of silvered glass placed in front of it. The shelf covers the
line of junction and enables the window frame to be scrutinized by the
audience.
As soon as the screen is put in front of the lady on the shelf--the
glass pane slides up about a foot and a half into the top of the
frame, purposely made very deep. The bottom of the window is cut away
in the middle, leaving an aperture about two feet square, which was
previously hidden from view by the double glass at the base. Eve makes
her exit through this hole, and slides on to a board placed behind the
window in readiness for her. The pane of glass then slides down again,
the screen is removed, and the window appears just as solid as before.
When Curtis concluded his verbal explanation he gave the audience a
practical illustration of how the thing was done; he manipulated the
screen and pistol, whilst Hamar posed as Eve, and directly he had
finished there was another outburst of applause. Kelson dared not look
at John Martin or Gladys. The brief glance he had taken of them at the
conclusion of the giving away of the first trick had shocked him--and
he purposely stood with his back to them. With Hamar it was
otherwise--the joy of triumph was strong within him, and the picture
of John Martin, leaning forward in his chair, with his mouth half open
and a dazed, glassy expression in his eyes, only thrilled him with
pleasure; he laughed at the old man, and still more at Gladys.
"That's the way to treat a girl of that sort," he whispered to Kelson;
"scoff at her--scoff at her well. Let her see you don't care a snap
for her--and in the end she'll run after you and haunt you to death."
"I'm not so sure," Kelson said. "It might act in some cases, perhaps,
but I don't think you can quite depend on it."
"Pooh! You are no judge of women, in spite of all your experience,"
Hamar retorted. "I'll bet you anything you like she'll come round and
make a tremendous fuss of me."
"Supposing you fall in love with her, how about the compact?" Kelson
asked. "You've warned me often enough."
"Oh, but I'm not like you," Hamar replied. "There's nothing soft in my
nature. I fall in love! Not much! Why, you might as well have
apprehensions of my joining the Salvation Army, or wanting to become a
Militant Suffragette--either would be just about as possible. No--! I
shall make the girl love me--and we shall be engaged for just as long
as I please. If I find some one that attracts me more, I shall throw
her aside--if not, maybe, I shall marry her--but in either case there
will be no question of love--at least not on my part. She shall do as
I want--that is all! Hulloa! Curtis is beginning again."
There were five other tricks on the programme--all of which were world
renowned. They were "The Floating Head"; "The Mango Seed"; "The
Haunted Bathing-machine," "The Girl with the Five Eyes," and "The
Vanishing Bicycle" illusion. As with the first two tricks, so Curtis
did with the following five--he explained them, and then, aided by
Hamar and Kelson, gave practical demonstrations of their solutions;
and so thoroughly and clearly were these solutions demonstrated that
the referees asked no questions--they were absolutely satisfied.
Turning to the audience--at a sign from Curtis--they announced that
the whole of Messrs. Martin and Davenport's tricks had been solved to
their entire satisfaction, and that Messrs. Hamar, Curtis and Kelson
of the Modern Sorcery Company Ltd. had, without doubt, won the wager.
"Have you anything to say?" Curtis asked, addressing John Martin.
"I acknowledge my defeat, though I do not understand it!" John Martin
said with very white lips. "I shall pay you the ten thousand pounds
to-night."
"Don't worry about that," Hamar interposed; "we don't want to take
your money, all we wanted to do was to prove to you we could perform
the tricks you believed to be insoluble.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he went on, raising his voice, "the Modern
Sorcery Company Ltd. has given you some proof to-night of their
capabilities in the conjuring line, and if you will give us the
pleasure of your company to-morrow night--we invite you all free of
charge for the occasion--we will give you a still further
demonstration of our powers. May we count upon your patronage?"
A terrific storm of clapping was the reply, and as the audience slowly
filed from the hall, John Martin staggered into the wing, reeled past
Gladys ere she could catch him, and sank helplessly on to the floor.