Free Sherlock Holmes and the King of Clubs by Steve Hayes

greet—’
    But Frances Lane was already hurrying away, the hem of her gored black skirt swirling around her ankles.
    Watson watched her go sadly, muttering, ‘Pre-show nerves, I expect.’
    ‘Ja,’
agreed Ulrich. ‘They all suffer from it, you know, from the lowliest ASM to the biggest star. Now, what was it you were saying about leaving a note?’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Holmes. ‘It looks as if Houdini has more important things on his mind at the moment.’
    They retraced their steps to the Ringstrasse and joined the crowd as they descended upon the theatre. The lobby was sumptuous. Cut-glass chandeliers cast a warm glow across a thick red carpet flanked by black and white tiles in a chessboard pattern. Patrons milled around or chatted with friends. There was no place here for the country’s many problems; the atmosphere was too light, too cordial, too dedicated to pleasure.
    Watson was astounded by the predominantly red, cream and gold decor. The ceiling was lined with frescoes, the walls filled with paintings of some of the greatest actors ever to tread the theatre’s boards … and here and there were statues and busts of yet more actors and writers.
    Holmes, who had little appetite for such splendour, led the way and Watson dutifully followed him up one of two wide staircases – both painted, Watson was thrilled to note, by Gustav and Ernst Klimt and their companion, Franz Matsch.
    It quickly became obvious that Houdini, as promised, had treated them to two of the best seats in the house. As an usher showed them into their own box, they got their first good look at the auditorium itself. It was every bit as impressive as the rest of the theatre and able to accommodate more than a thousand patrons. A glance into the hall itself was enough to show Holmes and Watson that Houdini’s opening night had been a sell-out.
    In the orchestra pit the musicians began to tune up. A sense of expectation filled the auditorium. ‘Prepare to be amazed,’ Watson said to Holmes. ‘I suspect that Houdini has a few tricks up his sleeve that even
you
will be unable to explain.’
    Holmes was about to reply when a big, bullish man in his late fifties, with thinning fair hair and a trimmed goatee beard, appeared from stage left. The audience dutifully began to applaud, but the man, whose tuxedo could barely contain his girth, quickly indicated that they should desist.
    Holmes leaned forward, studying him keenly.
    By the time the newcomer reached centre-stage, the audience began to realize that he was not part of the show. Their applausediminshed until it grew very quiet in the auditorium.
    ‘
Meine
Damen und
Herr
en
,’ he began. ‘I am Alfred Freiherr von Berger, the director of the Theater an der Burg. I am pleased to see so many of you here tonight, but I am also sorry to announce that due to unforeseen circumstances, Herr Houdini has been forced to cancel tonight’s performance.’
    Even as the audience began to react, he raised his voice, adding, ‘Please! Please, ladies and gentlemen! I can only apologize and ask your forbearance in this matter. The management will be happy to refund on your tickets or provide replacements as soon as we are able to resume performances.’
    ‘And when will that be?’ demanded an angry man sitting in the front row.
    ‘Alas, I cannot say at present,’ said von Berger. ‘But once again, please accept the apologies of the Theater an der Burg, as well as those of Herr Houdini himself.’
    As von Berger walked off stage to boos and catcalls, Watson turned to Holmes and said, ‘I wonder what’s happened? I do hope Houdini is all right.’ And then, ‘No wonder Miss Lane was so short with us.’
    ‘Indeed,’ said Holmes, rising. ‘Well, since unforeseen circumstances have put paid to our night at the theatre – not to mention our supper with Houdini – I suggest we seek our entertainment elsewhere, old friend. And in Vienna, I do not expect that it will be terribly difficult to