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the screams from the audience when one of the boots became detached and fell on to the stage. How they imagined I had severed a leg I cannot fathom. Fortunately, someone had the sense to lower the front cloth and soon a comedian had them singing patriotic songs, while a carpenter sawed open the box backstage. Lettice, of course, was discovered with her leg pinned, and the doctor withdrew the sword and took her in a brougham to Charing Cross Hospital.’
    ‘Then you were arrested?’
    ‘Yes!’ said Woolston in a shocked voice. ‘In her discomfort the wretched girl became positively vindictive towards me, and several times accused me of deliberately arranging the injury. It was just too preposterous! I thought nobody would believe such a thing! She wasn’t her normal self at all.’
    ‘Had you known her a long time?’
    ‘Eighteen months—which is a confounded long time in the theatre, Sergeant.’
    ‘Had you quarrelled recently?’
    ‘Quarrelled? Well, hardly quarrelled. Earlier that evening we had a few wry words together, you might say.’
    ‘What about?’
    ‘Her figure, Sergeant. I told her she was putting on too much weight, and she was, damn it. Chocolates and gingerbread, you know. One has no business being overweight when one’s in a box trying to avoid being skewered by half a dozen swords.’
    ‘Did she object to being told about her figure?’
    ‘Without going into details, yes. I was right, though, wasn’t I? It seems she was too blasted heavy for that secret flap. It’s odd, though. I thought it would have taken much more weight than that. I check the hinges and supports regularly.’
    ‘Did you check ’em that evening?’
    ‘Well, not that evening, Sergeant.’
    ‘I see. How many people knew the secret of your trick?’
    ‘Very few,’ said Woolston. ‘The carpenter who made it for me. A stage-hand or two. And Lettice.’
    ‘And the girl before Lettice?’
    ‘Oh yes, Hetty. And Patty before her, now you mention it.’
    Cribb sighed. ‘Did you examine the flap after the accident?’
    ‘In the confusion, no.’
    ‘Pity.’
    ‘You won’t be able to find it now, Sergeant. No stage-manager keeps useless wood backstage. The whole trick will be firewood by now.’
    ‘Evidence shouldn’t be destroyed,’ commented Cribb. ‘It’s probably saved. What were you charged with?’
    ‘Assault. Didn’t you know? But I was told that other charges are to be preferred. The damned girl’s not in any danger, is she?’ he added on an impulse.
    ‘I believe not,’ said Cribb. He studied Woolston’s face. ‘You wouldn’t have wanted to hurt her, would you?’
    The conjurer considered the point. ‘Not at that moment, and in those circumstances.’
    Cribb lifted an eyebrow. ‘In other circumstances, perhaps?’
    Woolston paused, wary of a trap. ‘Now listen to me, Sergeant. I am a professional illusionist, known throughout the London halls, and that girl was a first-class assistant— magnificent proportions, a wonderful suffering expression and legs she wasn’t coy about displaying. But you have to train a girl, and training’s a matter of discipline, like any form of schooling. Without me, she’d still be just a figurante at the Alhambra on ten shillings a week, taking drinks from soldiers between dances.’
    ‘She was in the ballet, was she?’
    ‘Until I rescued her, yes. She has a lot to be grateful for. I lavished hours of my time teaching her to move in that box. Hours, gentlemen.’ He scanned both his listeners for a glimmer of sympathy. Cribb was expressionless; Thackeray plainly regarded packing young women in boxes as no hardship. ‘In the end,’ continued Woolston, unabashed, ‘she knew that movement better than any dance-step she’d ever executed.’
    ‘More’s the pity she put on weight,’ commented Cribb, nudging the conversation in the direction he wanted.
    ‘Feckless female! Yes.’
    ‘Wouldn’t put it beyond a man of your application to teach a girl like that a