The Churchill Casebook of Curiosities
Book Two: 'Smoke and Mirrors' or 'The Sinister Figure'
Chapter Two: Dinner and a Show
Why would you hang mirrors above a bed?Wednesday 14th May 1879: Dock St. Theatre
I arrived fashionably late to our dinner appointment at La Vestibule (a very poor attempt at zhooshing up a plain British diner with French flair) to find the gentlemen already seated. Silas had cleverly arranged things so I would not sit by Mr Blackwood, for which I was thankful. It was very full, despite Doctor Foedemere being several months into his run—an ‘extended engagement’ indeed.
The crowd at the theatre was surprisingly well heeled—more Bond street than Soho. I could see Daphne studiously ignoring people he obviously knew, and there were familiar faces from the Coffee House who in turn studiously ignored me. The prevailing fashion was black faux-mourning dress, reflecting the current trend toward the gothic (as evidenced by some of the recent rather exotic requests from my clients—who could have predicted coffins?).
The meal was uneventful: Daphne showing off, Silas agreeable, and Blackwood withdrawn. I think it’s that silence that puts me most on edge—what is he thinking, plotting, planning? Perhaps it is all innocent but it gives me the shivers. I am not used to dealing with silent men of irascible nature.
We had superior seats in the centre of the dress circle; a nice gesture from the Baron. The theatre is of impressive size, despite Daphne’s dismissal. Predictably, our young lord immediately set about picking out the most handsome of the ladies sitting below, settling on an attractive young woman in a delightful green evening gown. I could almost taste his hunger. I think it is the hunt that excites him most—the eventual conquest is merely a cherry on top.
The program started with a passable rendition of the anthem from Molly Mildred, followed by some most unfortunate vile vaudevillian ‘comedy’, a performance that left much to be desired. Despite this not a soul left their seat, such was the anticipation for the main act.
Doctor Foedemere finally took the stage to rapturous applause, and we settled down to indulge Langbrook’s query as to how Foedemere works his magic. He presented much as his poster did: a serious man, focused and intent, not a natural entertainer despite his chosen business. The crowd were almost literally on the edge of their seats as he commenced his routine.
Doctor Foedemere
He surprised us all by beginning with a series of mundane tricks that would only impress a child. Rabbits and hats, flowers from sleeves, ribbons and handkerchiefs of changing colour and texture magically joining together in his closed hand. Foedemere himself seemed bored, which made me smile; lulling the audience before revealing the real magic.
And that magic, when it came, was indeed impressive.
The stage darkened to a spotlight on Doctor Foedemere introduced his main act, summoning two thuggish men, one large one small (as per carney regulation), who wheeled two large objects covered in black drapery onto the stage. These were carefully positioned beside one another mid-stage. Foedemere then dramatically whipped the covers free to reveal twin standing mirrors encased in quite absurdly over-the-top gothic frames: black roses entwined with thorns, ravens, and leering urchins. The mirrors themselves seemed to reflect with uncommon brilliance, as clear as a pond of still water in winter.
Foedemere explained he had discovered these stupendous mirrors many years ago in the mysterious Castello di Branzollo , a medieval castle near Lombardy in the Italian north. His years of study of the mirrors had revealed to him their supernatural powers, powers which we were about to witness. It was a superb sales pitch.
The Doctor proceeded to position the frames on the stage, being very precise with their placement. One was at stage front, and the other aligned directly behind it upstage, forming a parallel pair fifteen feet apart. Silas and Blackwood watched intently, both using theatre glasses for a closer view. Blackwood’s glasses appeared to be of his own manufacture, covered in dials and ratchets—a ‘hideous’ fashion faux-pas in Daphne’s opinion (with which I had to agree!). I asked Silas if there were any markings on the floor where Foedemere was fiddling, perhaps to align the mirrors with a hidden underfloor access, but he could find nothing obvious.
Foedemere folded out each mirror so they swung free, at right angles to their frames and both facing stage right. He next called a ‘random’ gentleman to the stage to inspect the mirrors and frames, asking the man verify there was nothing untoward or unusual to be found. The gentlemen was only too pleased to comply and confirm. I suspected a plant, though it would take a brave man to contradict one such as Foedemere in front of such a credulous audience.
Once satisfied, Foedemere called for silence and you could have heard a pin drop such was his command of the crowd. He explained the intense concentration that would be needed as he held a gloved hand aloft. He then walked to the nearer of the two mirrors and, surprisingly, pulled the black cloth over the glass so it was no longer visible. This was immediately suspicious to myself and my companions (though not Daphne who was busy observing his prey). What was he hiding behind the curtains? They hung parallel to the mirror, but wrapping around either side so we could not see along the mirror’s edge. It seemed almost too obviously a mechanism to hide something, though I will admit the gap between the mirror and curtain was only very slim, hence difficult to hide something or someone inside.
Foedemere stepped closer to the mirror and, with studied attention, slowly slipped his hand between the part in the curtain toward the surface of the (now hidden) mirror. The audience held their breath, as I confess did I. He paused for dramatic moment, then pushed his hand further inside (further than should have been possible given the proximity of the mirror).
An instant later his hand emerged—from the upstage mirror!!! A gasp louder than any cheer went up as Foedemere appeared to have split himself in two, his arm at front of stage reaching into the mirror and re-emerging 15 feet away. With nary a pause Foedemere then stepped through the mirror to emerge from the other! Cries of astonishment and stifled screams rolled around the theatre before Foedemere stepped back through and turned triumphantly to face his audience.
Cries of ‘more, more!’ led him to raise his hands for quiet, after which he repeated the trick to rapturous cheering. I exclaimed with delight what a surprise it was to see a magic trick so well performed. Despite how impressive it was it seemed to me that there must be some doppelganger hidden in the far mirror who stepped out with exceptionally well-choreographed timing to match Foedemere’s movements. But I could not explain how he hid himself in the tiny sliver of space between the mirror and the curtain.
Foedemere was a professional and obviously knew that suspicions such as mine would need to be disproved for the magic to truly impress and lift it from the clever to the astonishing. He called for a volunteer from the audience, a woman this time, to join him on stage. Somewhat surprising even myself, I leapt to my feet and cried out my availability. Alas so did hundreds of others, most of whom were downstairs and far closer to the stage. Foedemere did a quick scan before settling on…Daphne’s green-dressed favourite. Of all people! Despite my disappointment I laughed with pleasure at Daphne’s surprise. Like the gentleman before her I suspected she was a Foedemere plant, particularly given how she stood out from the crowd.
Miss Susannah Thompson
She stepped on stage and allowed Foedemere to comfort her with guarantees of her safety. He handed her to take a sheet of parchment and charcoal marker and asked her to write a message upon the sheet. She obediently did so, then Foedemere held the note up for the audience to see: “I am having the most marvellous time at Doctor Foedemere’s magic show!”
Perhaps she wasn’t a plant after all, with such an unimaginative message! Silas said she appeared to be quite innocent, flushed with excitement at her good fortune.
Foedemere took her note and folded it, then walked to the mirror and passed the message between the curtains and ‘into’ the mirror. As was now expected, the parchment emerged at the far mirror clutched in his disembodied hand. Foedemere requested the lady take it from him and read what was written thereon to verify it was the same. She frowned as she took the paper, looking nervously to Foedemere. “I cannot read it,” she apologised, almost on the verge of tears at her inability.
But Foedemere had one last trick. He told her it was quite all right, and instructed her and told her to hold the note up to the mirror. She did so and her face lit up with delight: she could read the message in the mirror! The writing on the paper had been reversed, which was why she had not been able to comprehend it, but the mirror reversed that reversal to make it quite clear.
The crowd reacted with as much delight as the guest star as Foedemere took his bows and exited the stage.
As the performance concluded Silas was busy conferring with Blackwood. They concurred on an interesting observation: the buttons on Foedemere’s gloves had been reversed when he emerged from the far mirror, just like the message. This, to them, was evidence that there was more to this magic than met the eye. Having said that, the gentlemen could offer no concrete explanation for how this could have been done. To me it seemed plausible that the message was also pre-arranged, if the woman was indeed a prop just like the mirrors. Both Silas and Blackwood dismissed my theory—without giving it much consideration I must say. Perhaps they too were becoming hooked on the Major’s fascination with the supernatural.
With the performance finished (it was only very short; Foedemere was making good money for little work) the audience dispersed, thick with fevered chatter and speculation. Daphne was gone in a flash to find his target, and Blackwood wandered off lost in his own world, as he so often seemed. Silas and I stayed seated a little longer discussing what we had seen, before we too took our leave.
On the landing we could see that Daphne has succeeded in finding his mark. She was a vision in green (Daphne had chosen well), hard to miss as she made her way toward what was presumably the green room. Daphne was hot on her tail, managing to bypass the same two heavies guarding access, using his natural nobility to make himself invisible, and together they disappeared out of sight.
Quill and Sayers
Silas and I waited outside, not wanting to interrupt Daphne. Blackwood appeared before too long, alternating between scribbling in one of his notebooks and obsessively folding a piece of paper as he muttered about ‘portals’. He somehow sensed where Daphne had gone and before I knew what he intended he had pulled out his wretched bag of tools and convinced the doormen that he was a tradesperson here to fix the bathroom plumbing.
I was horrified. Last time he had produced this bag of tricks he had near-murdered Peter Abernathy, and now he was following Daphne who was in turn following another ‘innocent’ woman. History was repeating itself, and this time it would be Daphne that would pay the price of Blackwood’s uncontrolled rage!
I grabbed Silas. “He’s doing it again, Silas! Stop him!”
“He is doing nothing of the sort, Gideon,” Silas protested.
“How can you know that! He must be stopped!”
Silas just laughed. It was a tired laugh which clearly said I was being ridiculous. “I just know,” he ‘explained’.
Well. This was more than I could bear and I found all my fear and adrenaline drained. My paranoia regarding Mr Blackwood suddenly seemed slightly ridiculous—after all I had faced worse men and survived. I slumped onto a nearby chaise-lounge with a heavy sigh. “Silas sometimes you are really too much,” I complained and closed my eyes.
Sometime later Daphne emerged arm-in-arm with his victim. She seemed entirely chuffed to be with him, of course, and his eyes shone triumphantly.
“Congratulations Daphne, you have landed your fish,” I muttered as he passed. He studiously ignored me and escorted the young woman downstairs, Silas interrupting his descent only briefly when he caught her eye as he lit a cheroot. Mr Blackwood was nowhere to be found.
Daphne’s march to victory was short lived however. His young woman’s chaperone (Ms Agatha Claremont we later learnt) was, amazingly, his match. Despite initially being dumbstruck by the Marleybone star, she quickly recovered her equilibrium and managed to extract her charge—aka the lovely Miss Susannah Thompson—from Daphne’s hooks. I believe his mistake was asking where the young woman was staying, at which point she realised he had crossed a line that a Marleybone should not cross. Daphne did manage to pass Miss Thompson his card—‘embossed by the Goldsmith’s’—before they disappeared from his life.
Ms. Agatha Claremont
We three regathered, Blackwood still missing—perhaps down a toilet bowl—and a resigned Daphne explained what had occurred in the green room.
Foedemere had gathered quite a crowd gathered, as was to be expected. He was holding court in a manner that belied his serious countenance on stage, quite voluminous in his pleasure as he handed champagne to his guests (‘a classic vintage’, Daphne assured us). Daphne managed to quickly latch onto his young lady, ingratiating himself with her by praising her on stage performance and delightful dress. Daphne of course employed liberal use of his family name, which drew the attention of others in the room and away from Foedemere. The magician didn’t like that too much, and he managed to recapture everyone by revealing how they too could own one of the wondrous mirrors from his performance—undoubtedly explaining Langbrook’s purchase.
He was at pains to explain that they were replicas, but replicas of such outstanding quality and workmanship that the potential owner would barely tell the difference. Daphne immediately promised to buy one, taking a proffered card which he produced for us. The Colopinto Brothers were the manufacturers in question, hand-crafting faithful replicas, resident in Fleet St no less, and open to all of Foedemere’s guests.
As Daphne explained all this I marvelled at Foedemere’s operation. It was perfect: an impressive and hard to explain magic trick, brief but memorable, using a pair of magnificent mirrors, replicas of which just so happening to be available for purchase from a local artisan. No doubt Foedemere was taking a handsome cut of any profits, and, judging by Lord Langbrook’s enthusiasm to immediately purchase a set for Penelope, those profits were large.
At this point Blackwood finally re-joined us. He seemed not to have muddied his hands, thank goodness. Taking a deep breath, and reaching for my newfound resilience regarding this man, I addressed Mr Blackwood directly. “How went your plumbing work?”
“No repairs required,” he explained.
I couldn’t help myself, thinking back to young Master Abernathy. “Repairs! Is that what you call it?”
Mr Blackwood looked completely nonplussed.
I shrugged and explained my estimation of Foedemere’s operation to the gentlemen. Just as with the mirrors, they seemed less than interested in my opinion, still working on the theory that something supernatural or more complex than my explanation was involved. Mere mercenary concerns was too obvious an explanation for them.
Of interest, to me at least, Blackwood reported that the mirrors had been secured below stage in a locked room. He had gained access as far as the room using his plumbing ruse, but would need assistance to get any further if we wished to pursue that avenue.
Despite myself, I was impressed with Blackwood’s initiative, and it gave me an idea which I proposed with some excitement. I proposed we should withdraw to the newly fitted stalls in the bathrooms whilst Mr Blackwood returned below stage and hid. By standing on the seats of these new-fangled ‘toilets’, we would be invisible to any that entered to check for strays, allowing us to emerge once the theatre was shut-up and explore the mirrors at our leisure. The audience was beginning to thin out in the foyer, but there were still time enough for us to act!
To my disappointment Silas and Blackwood shook their heads and said visiting the Colopinto Bros was a far more fruitful pursuit, and one with far less risk. I protested that the mirror-makers were a side hustle, merely making replicas in an obvious money making scheme, but they were not to be persuaded. Daphne was bored, and disappointed at his fish escaping, so he went along with whatever they said.
I felt quite put out by their casual rejection of my every idea and had had quite enough of being talked down to. I said as much in quite a huff, being rather short with Silas, to my regret. I stormed outside and told them we would meet at the Colopinto warehouse tomorrow at 10AM—“11 please,” Daphne begged.
As we went our separate ways I quickly made up with Silas, thanking him for his recent visit for check-ups at the Coffee House, and we departed on good terms. But really that man can be quite infuriating!
Thursday 15th May 1879: The Colopinto Brothers
We duly regathered outside the Colopinto Brothers storefront. It was not at the good end of the street, but it was housed in an impressive older building. The sign-work betrayed that this was a newish endeavour, no doubt established shortly before Doctor Foedemere’s residence commenced.
Daphne was wearing the exact same clothes as he had last evening and looked rather the worse for wear, hair mussed and eyes glassy. “I’m fine,” he protested, clearly being quite the reverse.
We stepped inside to find a subdued interior, the building creaking with age—as were the Colopinto brothers themselves. Two ancient bald Italian gentlemen, near twins with drooping shaded eyes, in well out-of-date formal clothing. One was engaged with other customers, the other approached us, bowing low and introducing himself as Luigi Colopinto. He had a strong accent which I shall not mimic, but suffice to say he was indeed from that celebrated land, albeit with rather less vim and vigour than one normally associates with the Italian species.
Luigi Colopinto
Guiseppe Colopinto
Silas took it upon himself to lead the interrogation, for that is quickly what it became. Mr Colopinto was ever gracious, never questioning our questioning, despite it veering ever further away from the mirrors themselves—which were, it cannot be questioned, tremendous. He explained they were silvered, which is what gave them their almost otherworldly reflectivity; I had never seen clearer.
So impressed I was that I enquired after the cost for a half-dozen to hang above the more expensive beds in the Coffee House (“Why would you hang mirrors above a bed?” Blackwood asked in confusion. “Use your imagination,” I suggested, to which he replied, “I did?” Remarkable! I vowed to teach that man a thing or two which might change his outlook on the world considerably!). Mr Colopinto didn’t miss a beat (the Italian’s reputation for bedroom skill was well deserved) as he explained apologetically that the silvering meant they were too heavy for such a use.
Under questioning Mr Colopinto explained that their mirrors were all unique, the frames crafted by hand and the glass itself silvered using a patented technique they would, understandably, explain no further. Upon pressing, Mr Colopinto said the secret of the silvering was developed at their home in Veneto, near Venice, on the island of Murano.
The frames were very similar to those employed by Doctor Foedemere, gothic and menacing. They being so similar led us to ask if they had also manufactured the Foedemere frames, but they declared not. “The originals are masterpieces, very old, very good condition. We merely copy their ebony frames,” he explained.
The only time we detected any duplicity, slight though it was, came when Silas asked if Foedemere’s mirrors were also from the Island of Murano. Mr Colopinto hesitated ever so slightly before reinforcing Doctor Foedemere’s claim that his mirrors were from the ‘a castle in Lombardy’. Was his hesitation fear of revealing a secret, or merely suspicion about our line of questioning?
After spending quite some time and getting nowhere, Silas eventually admitted defeat and changed his tack, ordering a mirror for himself! I was somewhat surprised, but then they were very fine mirrors. Mr Blackwood quickly followed suit, both adding their names to a long waiting list. As they wrote Daphne scanned the names in the book, spotting Langbrook but no other names that raised an alert.
Now on good terms thanks to the sale, Blackwood asked to see a mirror in progress, and Mr Colopinto’s brother, Guiseppe, was only too happy to oblige. In the back room he had a frameless mirror, which Mr Blackwood spent some time examining, as well as one in the process of being mounted in an ostentatious frame. Silas was quick enough to spot a nametag attached—Langbrook! The kind of coincidence which breeds suspicion, except that this was such a coincidence that we made nothing more of it. I felt sure he would be very happy with his purchase.
Outside we regathered, Silas sheepishly admitting my hunch about the Colopinto’s being a dead-end appeared to have been correct. I accepted this with good grace, grace which was soon dashed. As we discussed what to do next. I hinted at my original plan to hide within the theatre only to be overridden once more! Daphne suggested instead that we talk with a resident London magician to ask their opinion on Foedemere’s ‘magic’, hoping to reveal how the trick was done.
“A magician will never reveal their secrets to a mere layperson,” I protested stridently, having known a fair few in my time.
“It cannot hurt to ask, if only to find out if they think it real or a fake,” Silas stressed.
“THEY WILL NOT—oh heavens above, very well!” I scowled. I was on good terms with Mr Chan, the Mysterious Manchurian, thanks to his occasional appearances on special masked nights at the Coffee House, and agreed to arrange a meeting the following day.
“Are you saying he’s an oriental?” Daphne scoffed, and I almost slapped him.