Free The Confabulist by Steven Galloway

original invention, the Water Torture Cell. Although there is nothing supernatural about it, I am prepared to forfeit the sum of one thousand dollars to anyone who can prove that it is possible to obtain air inside the cursed cell when I am locked up in it after it has been filled with water. Should anything go wrong when I am locked up, one of my assistants will watch through the curtain, ready to demolish the glass with his axe, allowing the water to flow out in order to save my life.”
    Clara’s hand had moved up my leg and was now resting at my midthigh. It was becoming difficult to concentrate. We’d kissed a bit, but that was as far as anything had gone. Her eyes were locked on every movement Houdini made.
    “Let me first thoroughly explain the apparatus, and then I will invite a committee onstage to examine everything. The cover is a steel frame made to prevent it from being opened even if it were not locked. Padlocks will hold it in place once I am secured inside. In front, there is a glass plate for self-protection. I do not expect anything untoward to happen. But as we all know, accidents will happen and when least expected.”
    Houdini then invited a dozen men to inspect the cell. They came onstage and poked at the thing, examining it from top to bottom.
    “Are you satisfied?” Houdini asked.
    One man, an elderly fellow with a cane, was not. “How do we know there’s not a trapdoor underneath?”
    Houdini smiled. “An excellent question. Choose any portion of the stage you wish and I’ll have the cell moved there.”
    The man took a few steps back, scuffed his foot on the floor, and pointed. Houdini’s assistants pulled the cell to the spot he’d chosen, and with a hose and several large buckets they filled it with water.
    An assistant locked Houdini into handcuffs. He lay down on the floor, and the lid was lifted off the top of the cell by a wire and pulley system. The lid had stocks that were fastened around Houdini’s ankles before being pulled aloft, suspending him upside down in the air. He took one last deep breath before being lowered into the cell. Water sloshed over the side as he was submerged. His assistants fastened the hasps at the lid and snapped padlocks onto them. They then raised the curtain around them.
    The band played while an assistant stood by with his axe, his gaze alternating between the curtain and the stopwatch in his hand.After two minutes everyone who had been holding their breaths to test him had given up. Another minute went by. The curtains fluttered. A few more seconds passed. Then the curtains flew open and Houdini staggered from the cell, dripping wet but unharmed. The cell was still full of water and the lid was intact, the locks undisturbed.
    Bedlam followed. The audience vaulted to its feet and made the theatre tremble under the weight of its admiration. The din was so loud that I couldn’t distinguish my own voice from Will’s or Clara’s, though I cheered with the full force of my lungs.
    It took some time for the racket to die down, but when it did the theatre manager announced an intermission. We got up and went to the lobby. Clara and Evelyn went off to the washroom, leaving Will and me by ourselves. We found a spot in the corner and took turns with the flask.
    “These tickets are going to pay off in spades,” Will said, looking to see if Evelyn was on her way back.
    I shook my head. “I doubt it.”
    “You’re blind.” He handed me back the empty flask. “You’re a smart guy, Martin, but you don’t get a lot. And Clara is one of those things. You treat her like she’s some sort of saint, like she’s above you. She’s not. She’s right down in the regular world just the same as you.”
    I put the flask back in my pocket. “I don’t treat her like a saint.”
    “Really? You even do anything other than make eyes at her?”
    I very nearly answered that I’d kissed her a number of times but realized that this was exactly his point. There was