The Prestige

"By approaching me for money."

Koenig grimaced unhappily. "Not exactly, but—"

"Continue."

"You'll be interested to learn that Miss Wenscombe was not aware that there were two brothers, and to this day refuses to believe that she was deceived."

"I asked her myself once," I said, remembering the grim interview with her in the theatre in Richmond. "She said then that Borden was just one man. She knew my suspicions. But I can hardly believe that now."

"The Borden brother who died was taken ill while in the Hornsey flat. It sounds as if he had a heart attack. Miss Wenscombe summoned Borden's doctor, and after the body had been taken away the police came round. When she told them who the dead man was they left to make further enquiries, but never returned. She later contacted the doctor, to discover that he was not available. His assistant told her that Mr Borden had been taken ill, but had recovered quickly and had just been discharged from hospital! As Miss Wenscombe had been with him when he died, she could not believe it! She went to the police again, but to her amazement they too confirmed it.

"I heard all this from Miss Wenscombe herself. Now, from what she told me, she has no idea that Borden was maintaining a second household. He completely pulled the wool over her eyes. As far as she was concerned, Borden was with her most days and nights, and she always knew where he was at other times." Koenig was leaning forward intently in his chair as he regaled me with his story. "So then Borden died suddenly, and she was shocked and upset as anyone in her position would be, but she had no reason to believe there was going to be anything unusual about it! And he did most certainly die, according to her. She says she was with the body for more than an hour before the doctor arrived, and it had gone cold by then. The doctor examined the body enough to confirm death, and said that he would sign a death certificate on his return to his surgery. Yet now she is faced not only with denials from everyone involved, but also with the incontrovertible fact that Alfred Borden appears on the public stage, performing his magic, and is manifestly not dead."

"If she thinks that Borden was only one man, how on earth does she account for that?" I interjected.

"I asked her, of course. As you know, she is no stranger to the world of illusions. She told me that after much thought she came to the sorrowful conclusion that Borden had used magical techniques to fake his death, for instance swallowing some kind of medication, and that it was all an elaborate charade to enable him to walk out on her."

"Did you tell her that the Bordens were twins?"

"Yes. She scoffed at the idea, and assured me that if a woman lives with a man for five years she knows everything there is to know about him. She absolutely rejected the notion that there might have been two of them."

(I had earlier raised my own questions about the Borden twins’ relationship with his/their wife and children. These now take on an added level of enquiry. It seems the mistress was also deceived, but is unwilling to admit that she was, or simply never knew.)

"So this notebook has suddenly appeared, to solve all her problems," I said.

Koenig stared at me thoughtfully, then said, "Not all of them, but her most immediate ones. My Lord, I think that as a gesture of my good faith, I should let you examine the notebook without promise of payment."

He passed the key across to me, and sat back in his chair while I opened the lock.

The notebook was written in a tiny hand, neatly inscribed in regular and even lines, but not at first glance legible. After I had looked at the opening pages I began to riffle through the rest as if running my fingers across the edges of a deck of cards. My magician's instinct was telling me to be on my guard against Borden's trickery. All those years of feuding had revealed the extent of his willingness to hurt or harm me. I had turned through about half the thickness of the notebook, when I halted. I stared at it, deep in thought.

It was more than possible that this was Borden's most elaborate attack on me yet. Koenig's story about Olivia, the death of Borden in her flat, the conveniently revealed existence of a notebook containing Borden's most valuable professional secrets, all these could be fabricated.

I had only Koenig's word to go on. What would the notebook actually contain, if it were another trick? An intricate maze of deceits which would manipulate me into some misguided response? Could there be something here that would, through the person of Olivia Svenson, threaten my one remaining area of stability, namely my miraculously restored marriage to Julia?

It seemed to me that I was putting myself in hazard, even to hold the notebook.

Koenig's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Dare I presume, my Lord, that I can guess what is going through your mind?"

"No, you may not so presume," I said.