They spent much of the afternoon, once she had everything firmly in her head, running through the act again and again, except for a break of half an hour when the doctor received two visitors in his dressing room.
The two callers were, of course, Ember and Harkness, to whom the Professor was now able to impart further instructions, hear about how Spear was organizing matters in Berkshire, and the depressing news concerning the raid on the warehouse and Parker's untimely end.
Before they left, Moriarty reinforced his orders.
“You must be waiting from at least ten o'clock onward,” he told Ember. “Just in case anything goes wrong. And you”âhe turned to Harknessâ“had better get down tonight. I want you to know those roads like the backs of your own hands, so that you could drive them fast and blindfoldâas indeed you will have to do.”
That evening Dr. Night appeared to be in exceptional form. The stage manager said later, “It could be a completely new act. He seems so fresh. Perhaps the girl's giving him something he's never had before.”
“I just hope it ain't leprosy,” rejoined the stage hand.
During the whole week, everyone at the Alhambra had to admit that Dr. Night had never been as good, though there were those who found him much less approachable offstage: getting swellheaded, they said, what with the royal command and all.
As for Inspector Crow, his job had rarely been so frustrating. They had gone over the few papers and scraps a dozen times, hoping some clue might be unearthed. But Moriarty's whereabouts remained a mystery that Crow despaired of solving.
Friday, April 27, 1894
(THE LAST TRICK)
A
T PRECISELY THREE
o'clock on the afternoon of Friday, April 27, 1894, two carriages and a van turned into Leicester Square and pulled up to one side of the Alhambra. Workmen began to bring heavy packing cases from the stage door and load them into the van. There was also a large trunk, bearing the painted legend
DR NIGHT.
An equerry and two other gentlemen left the carriages and made their way to the stage door, where the manager of the theater was waiting to introduce them to Dr. Night and his charming assistant, Miss Mary Malloney.
At half-past three the whole party came out and boarded the carriages, which bore them away to the special train chartered to take the illusionist to Wolferton and thence by coach again to the royal house at Sandringham.
It was half-past seven when they finally steamed into Wolferton and boarded the carriages that were to carry them on the last fifteen minutes' journey to the Prince of Wales' country home. The road passed between bare commons and clumps of fir treesâa wild, flat and bleak part of the world.
On arrival Moriarty reflected that the old Queen, it was said, considered Sandringham an unlucky house, while others thought of it as the flashpoint of society. Perhaps, Moriarty thought grimly, both these things will truly be proved before the night is done.
More workmen appeared to unload Dr. Night's props, while the equerry ushered the doctor and his young woman through the portals, along corridors, and into the big Edis ballroom, which had been set up for the entertainmentâsome thirty or forty chairs arranged in neat rows facing the large bay windows on the east side, in front of which Dr. Night was to perform.
It was an impressive room, a room in which to make a crowning appearance, thought Moriarty. It was nearly seventy feet long, thirty wide and twenty-three high, with a smooth oak parquet floor, rich alcoves, panels and, so the equerry said, one hundred and twenty-six gas jets for illumination; the whole was embellished with Indian shields, tiger skins, elephant cloths and the like.
To one side of the eastern bay window, chairs and music stands were arranged for the orchestra, which already waited patiently for Dr. Night's arrival, and once the trunks and cases were unloaded, the doctor handed out his orchestra parts and went into quick consultation with both the conductor and leader.
Once the orchestra had run through the music and the conductor was certain of all the cues, Dr. Night asked the equerry if he might be left alone to unpack and prepare the act in front of the rich cream tapestry curtains that draped the large windows.
The equerry saw to it and told the illusionist that light refreshment was prepared for him in one of the nearby roomsâhe would dine later, when the performance was done. Their Royal Highnesses and their guests were at dinner now, and it was thought they would be ready for the entertainment at about ten o'clock.
Outside a breeze was stiffening up the Wash, bringing with it the rain that had threatened all day. A few miles off, in a tavern at Wolferton, Harkness drank a glass of brandy, often taking out his watch to count off the slow-passing hours.
Back in London it had been an irritating, frustrating day for Angus Crow. He had looked through the papers and charred remains from the warehouse yet again, and he found himself strangely returning, for the umpteenth time, to one fragment: a piece of paper, scorched, burned off at an angle, and brown with heat, upon which a few words could be made out:
If
e in
after
, that
be most
onvenient,
time and date
mply.
ant,
spoon.
Night)
There was something there which Inspector Angus McCready Crow found disturbing. He could not put his finger on it, but the thought had nagged since he first saw the fragment. Night was right, no matter if it was spelled with a capital letter: all the logic in the world would not change that. The business became so downright irritating that by late afternoon Crow had reached the end of his tether. He should not, he thought, be cooped up here in an office, trying to use his own particular methods of logical deduction. He should be out and about, searching, raking over the middens and cesspits of the criminal world, hauling in every petty villain and sneak thief, every dipper and macer on the streetsâbeating information out of them if necessary.
He was tired. Maybe tomorrow he would go out with his men, make a few surprise raids, drag in known villains, and go through them like an overdose of the Duncan & Flockhart's Cascara Capsules Sylvia kept in her medicine chest. But today he would let it rest.
He left Scotland Yard at ten minutes to five and took a hansom back to King Street, surprising Sylvia Cowles, who was in the sitting room, in an absolute uproar, with writing materials, envelopes, scissors, and what seemed to be a huge pile of
The Times.
“You've caught me properly on the hop, my darling,” Mrs. Cowles said brightly. “I have been writing letters, and clipping out copies of our engagement announcement to send to a few friends and relatives.”
“We could start a shop with all this,” Crow said cheerfully, picking a hacked sheet of the newspaper from his favorite chair. His eye ran across the page still held in his hand. Then suddenly there it was, staring him in the face under the Court Circular:
â¦. There will be a dinner party on Friday, 27th, when the entertainment will be provided by the celebrated illusionist, Dr. Night.
The charred fragment? Night? Dr. Night? Crow scanned the whole paragraph in the Court Circular again. Sandringham? The Prince of Wales? Could it possibly be? No, he thought, too much of a long shot. But then again, what if it was? He would never forgive himself. Dr. Night and the Prince and Princess of Wales?
Crow leaped to his feet.
“Good God!” he exclaimed. “I have to rush. Don't know when I'll be back, but don't worry. I think I know where Moriarty's been hiding himself.”
In the hansom on the way back to Scotland Yard Crow reasoned things out. He could not make an official issue of this, for the red tape would strangle matters; everybody would be havering, not knowing whether they should do this or that or the other thing. He would have to bank his whole career on it. If he were wrong, it could be that he would cause great displeasure with Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. It would be the end of him. But then if he were right â¦
Tanner was still in the office.
“Get your things together, sarn't, we're going for a wee train ride.”
The sergeant tried to ask questions, but Crow was having none of it. All he required was the time of the next train to Wolferton, or if necessary, King's Lynn. There was one, he discovered, at ten minutes past six, and if they hurried, they might just make it. Crow hastily scrawled out a telegraph message for the constabulary at Lynn and instructed a constable to get it off posthaste. He next unlocked his desk drawer, in which he kept a service revolver and fifty rounds of ammunition, stowed the weapon in the pocket of his Inverness, which he wore because the weather looked threatening, and made for the street with Tanner close at his heels. With any luck they would be in King's Lynn at half-past nine, Wolferton by quarter to ten, and, if the constabulary at Lynn did as they were told, they could be galloping up through the Sandringham estate by just after ten.
Crow wondered what time their Royal Highnesses dined, and what time they gave their guests the special entertainment.
Harness left the tavern soon after half-past nine. Five minutes later he was in the driving seat and had his horse trotting up the bleak road, made even more wild now by the rain which was becoming heavier, and seemed to have set in for the night.
Dr. Night and his assistant set up the many tables and pieces of apparatus. They then went to the rooms provided for changing into their dress for the performance. Moriarty took his briefcase with him.
Mary McNiel put on the special Egyptian princess costume, which was cleverly made so that it could be disguised and worn under the golden fringed outfit she wore for the first part of the act.
Moriarty arrayed himself in the full evening dress required, neatly brushing the coat and making sure his disguise was in perfect condition. He then opened the briefcase and drew out the Borchardt automatic pistol, cocked it, set the safety catch, and placed it in one of the many easily accessible pockets of the magician's dress coat. When all was done, he left the room, called for Mary, and together they were taken for some light refreshment. Their Royal Highnesses and their guests, the equerry told them, were just finishing dinner. The ladies had withdrawn, and His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales had indicated that the gentlemen would not linger long over their port.
It was almost quarter to ten.
At the lodge the gates were open, but the porter came out and stopped Harkness just the same, inquiring his business. Harkness said what he had been toldâthat he was one of Dr. Night's people, carrying some important items for the performance. The porter thought nothing of it and Harkness drove quietly through the parkland, for the rumble of wheels and noise of his horse's hooves were now well drowned by the rain. The driver turned up his coat collar, finally bringing the cab to a halt in the shelter of a wall by the east window of the ballroom.
It was nearly ten o'clock.
The train was late. A good half hour late, for it was ten o'clock by the time they pulled into King's Lynn. Tanner looked and felt decidedly nervous, not having great faith in Inspector Crow's logical deductive theory. He felt, as he told his superior, that the name Dr. Night, scrawled on one scrap of burned paper found in the warehouse, did not constitute any real evidence. Not enough anyway to warrant their plunging in on the Prince of Wales' dinner party.
Crow became decidedly dour and sharp as the journey got later. At King's Lynn a somewhat abrupt-mannered inspector came aboard the train to talk with Crow. He had done as Scotland Yard had requested, said the inspector. The carriage and van load of constables were already waiting at Wolferton, though for the life of him, he did not see what all the fuss was about.
“Just trust me, Inspector,” said Crow, somewhat mysteriously.
He was damned if more cold water was going to be poured on his theory by the new arrival.
“I'll take full responsibility,” he added, looking at his sergeant. “That also applies to you.”
It was twenty minutes past ten before the Prince and Princess entered the ballroom with their guests. Moriarty watched the arrival with some pleasure. The portly little Prince was beaming, at his most charming. Princess Alexandra looked as lovely as ever, though she limped badly from her rheumatism, a sad legacy of the cold and damp that silted in around Sandringham from the North Sea and the Wash. The young Duke and Duchess of York were also present, living as they did in York House in the grounds of the estate. And there were many other faces Moriarty recognizedâthe ladies elegant and dripping with rich jewels, which made the Professor's mouth water.
At last they were all settled and the master of ceremonies announced, “Your Royal Highnesses, my Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen. For your delectation, the great illusionistâDr. Night.”
At a signal the orchestra began Dr. Night's music. Moriarty's hand stole into the secret pocket, his fingers touching the butt of the Borchardt. He then withdrew the hand, straightened his shoulders and made an impressive entrance to regal applause.
The time was a quarter to eleven, and Crow's train was at a halt, held up by a signal some ten minutes from Wolferton station.
Dr. Night had never before performed like this. The act as presented at Sandringham included a number of small itemsâmost suitable for the relative intimacy of the audienceânot usually in his stage show. And by the time the Egyptian sarcophagus illusion had been performed and Mary, enchanting in her costume, completed her sinuous dance (which she did with much more style than Rosie), the audience was gasping with pleasure. Moriarty felt extreme elation. To perform like this was as enjoyable as any sensation he had yet experienced and he determined to savor it to the very end.
Dr. Night proceeded with the borrowing of the rings, even taking a signet ring proffered by the Prince himself, and mixing the magic omelette.