“I defy him,” said the spectator, leaning firmly against the back of his seat, to hide the number better—­“yes, yes—­I defy him!”

“You believe it to be difficult, then?”

“I will grant more:  it is impossible.”

“Well, then, sir, that is a stronger reason for us to try it.  You will not be angry if we triumph in our turn?” I added, with a petulant smile.

“Come, sir; we understand evasions of that sort.  I repeat it—­I challenge you both.”

The public found great amusement in this debate, and patiently awaited its issue.

“Emile,” I said to my son, “prove to this gentleman that nothing can escape your second sight.”

“It is number sixty-nine,” the boy answered, immediately.

Noisy and hearty applause rose from every part of the theater, in which our opponent joined, for, confessing his defeat, he exclaimed, as he clapped his hands, “It is astounding—­ magnificent!”

The way I succeeded in finding out the number of the stall was this:  I knew beforehand that in all theaters where the stalls are divided down the center by a passage, the uneven numbers are on the right, and the even on the left.  As at the Vaudeville each row was composed of ten stalls, it followed that on the right hand the several rows must begin with one, twenty-one, forty-one, and so on, increasing by twenty each.  Guided by this, I had no difficulty in discovering that my opponent was seated in number sixty-nine, representing the fifth stall in the fourth row.  I had prolonged the conversation for the double purpose of giving more brilliancy to my experiment, and gaining time to make my researches.  Thus I applied my process of two simultaneous thoughts, to which I have already alluded.

As I am now explaining matters, I may as well tell my readers some of the artifices that added material brilliancy to the second sight.  I have already said this experiment was the result of a material communication between myself and my son which no one could detect.  Its combinations enabled us to describe any conceivable object; but, though this was a splendid result, I saw that I should soon encounter unheard-of difficulties in executing it.

The experiment of second sight always formed the termination of my performance.  Each evening I saw unbelievers arrive with all sorts of articles to triumph over a secret which they could not unravel.  Before going to see Robert-Houdin’s son a council was held, in which an object that must embarrass the father was chosen.  Among these were half-effaced antique medals, minerals, books printed in characters of every description (living and dead languages), coats-of-arms, microscopic objects, etc.