And as the audience looked, they saw the panel slide back, and first of all Hamar’s head, and then his body, wriggle through the aperture thus made.

“The reason why you, audience, cannot see him make his escape is this,” Curtis explained; “the head of the coffin is always turned away from you and placed against a mirror which you can’t see, and which to you appears but the continuation of the stage.  In this mirror exactly opposite the head of the coffin is an aperture, and it is through this ‘the corpse’ makes his exit to the back of the stage.  I will show it you.  Here it is”—­and beckoning to the referees to come quite close, he pointed to a glass screen, in the centre of the base of which was a glass trap-door, corresponding in height and girth to the head of the coffin.  “Here, corpse!” Curtis said, “crawl through”—­and Hamar, looking as if he by no means appreciated the undignified task of wriggling on his stomach before so many eyes, drew himself as tight together as he could, and squirmed through.

“Does that satisfy you, gentlemen?” Curtis inquired.

“Perfectly!” the referees answered.  “Nothing could be plainer.  We see exactly, now, how the trick is done.”

At this there was a loud outburst of clapping, and Curtis bowed in the elegant manner in which he had been patiently and assiduously coached by Kelson.

He then proceeded to the second trick—­“Eve at the Window,” a trick almost, if not quite, as famous as “The Brass Coffin,” and for the solution of which Martin and Davenport had frequently offered huge sums of money.

A large pane of glass some nine by six feet in area, and set in a frame, made to represent that of a window, is placed on the stage, about eighteen inches from the floor.  Thirty-six inches from the ground a wooden shelf is placed against the window.  An assistant—­usually a woman—­then mounts on the shelf and, looking out of the glass, proceeds to kiss her hand vigorously.  The operator in a shocked voice asks her to desist.  She refuses and, to the amusement of the audience, carries on her pantomimic flirtation more desperately than before.  The operator pretends to lose his temper, and snatching up a screen places it at the back of her.  He then fires a pistol, pulls aside the screen, and she has vanished.  As the top, bottom and sides of the window, all in fact except the very middle, have been in full view of the audience, and as the window has been tightly closed all the time, the disappearance of the girl completely mystifies the audience.

Curtis explained it all.  He pointed out that the keynote to the illusion lay behind the wooden shelf, which was so placed as to conceal the fact that the lower part of the window was made double, the bottom of the upper part being concealed from view by a second sheet of silvered glass placed in front of it.  The shelf covers the line of junction and enables the window frame to be scrutinized by the audience.