Anyone, judging by the crowd of patrons strolling toward of the Grand Royal Theater, could see that evening's show was going to be a sensation. Emerging from the long row of carriages lined up around the block, men and women dressed in their finest clothes clogged the sidewalk. The return of Admiratio the Great and the mysterious Winifred Huxley was the most talked about event in all of Baltimore. Any memory of the "Flaming Magician" was far removed from anyone in attendance.

Wearing their best suits, Robert and James blended in well with the crowd. They stood in line, observing the surrounding faces with stolen tickets in hands. 

"Do you see Henry anywhere yet?" Jacob asked, adjusting his bowtie in the reflection of a nearby shop window. 

"Not yet," Robert replied, scanning the crowd. Jacob and Robert before Henry, assuming they would catch one another prior to the performance. 

"His loss. I think once inside, we should split up and find a way backstage." As Jacob pulled away his hands from his now perfect bowtie, he smiled at his reflection, admiring how handsome he looked in his prim suit and top hat. The perfect outfit to impress Winifred when he rescued her from the evil magician. Jacob noticed a flicker of concern on his brother's face. "Don't you think we should split up to work more effectively?"

"Yes, but I worry about what we will do if we discover where this spirit door is located and cannot contain it."

"That's a silly concern. When we find it, we'll destroy and anyone who gets in our way," Jacob quipped with a wave of his hand. Even though he'd seen that Emmanuel Lemieux was capable of great violence, he had little fear that the man would be any match for Robert and he. "We have him out-numbered. If he was smart, he'd surrender the moment we discover what he's up to."

"I'm not worried about Mr. Lemiuex, I'm worried about whatever comes through that door if he opens it," James said with a shake of his heads. He leaned close to Jacob, lowering his voice. "I've read that damned book so many times it about makes my head spin, but as I understand it, if someone enters the door and brings whatever is within it back to the mortal plane, it will be made mortal; mortal with unbelievable power."

"Then we had better not let anyone go through the door then?" Jacob said, patting Robert on the shoulder. At the front of the line, a cheer came from the crowd and Jacob's face lit up. "Must mean they've opened the doors to the lobby!"

Filing in with the slow-moving crowd, James and Jacob soon found themselves inside the brightly lit lobby. Poorly ventilated, the lobby was stuffy and loud. Jacob signaled to Robert, gesturing to a hallway to the right of the auditorium where he soon disappeared. Robert watched until he was sure he was gone, dread weighing heavily on him. His eyes scanned the faces of the crowd then, curious if the woman from his spell was there. He wondered if she was watching him.

Shaking off his momentary fears, Robert turned to explore the hallway to the left. Here the crowd thinned out, and he was stopped by an attendant blocking access to the backstage area. The stubborn employee demanded Robert's ticket and reviewed it with a wary eye.

"I'm afraid this is for a balcony seat, sir. You'll have to go back out into the lobby and up the stairs to find your seat," he said. 

Robert did not take the ticket back from the man. With all the effort he could muster, Robet forced a smile onto his face.

"Actually, I was hoping to deliver my well-wishes to Mr. Lemieux," Robert said, hoping that there might be at least a small measure of something resembling sincerity in his tone. "We are old friends. I wanted to congratulate him on the resounding success of tonight's show, as well as wish him luck."

Robert was a terrible liar, but in the awkward silence that soon engulfed the two men, he could see that the ticket taker was at least considering his words.

"It will only be the work of a few moments, I promise," Robert said. 

With a roll of his eyes, the attendant shoved the ticket back into Robert's hand.

"Fine. Just be quick about it!"

With a hasty nod, Robert proceeded through the door ahead and backstage. Once he was sure the door was closed behind him, he made his way through the dim light ahead, where tall cables and towering pillars of fabric curtains hung. The few people scurrying around backstage were too caught up in the preparations to pay Robert much attention. 

Before Robert could inspect the pile of stage props laid out on a pair of tables, his ears picked up the sound of a familiar voice. Emmanuel strode from behind the curtain, his conversation with an unseen stage and quickly diminishing as he walked toward the props. Thinking fast, Robert grabbed for a nearby door knob, concealing himself in what he assumed to be a closet.

Meanwhile, out in the lobby, Henry had arrived and was looking for the rest of his party. Catching Roland's hand waving over the crowd, Henry put on his best smile as he strode over to meet him.

"Dr. Glass, you look very sharp this evening," Roland said. Even larger than life in his tuxedo and top hat, Roland appeared more massive with the diminutive, red-haired woman at his side. Henry did not have to guess too hard that this was the Mary Swift he'd heard so much about.

"Thank you, Mr. Marshall," Henry said with a tip of his hat. "I want to extend my thank you for the kind invitation. This certainly appears to be the event of the year!"

Not waiting for an introduction, Mary thrust her gloved hand toward Henry's surprised face. 

"I've heard so much about you, Mr. Glass. I'm Mary Swift."

"The pleasure is mine, Ms. Swift. I'm happy to meet you at last. It sounds like there is a great deal we have to discuss matters concerning the paranormal?"

"Oh yes! Well, the privacy of our box seats shall give us all the time in the world to visit. I can hardly hear a thing over this crowd," she replied, turning to Roland. "Dearest, I'm going to head up to our seats. Would you bring up some drinks?"

Roland replied with a nod and departed. Just then, Henrey looked across the lobby and caught Faye's eye as she returned from the bathroom. Wearing a deep purple gown with a delicate black flower pattern, Henry could not think of a time when she'd looked more beautiful. Her smile was small, but he could see in her gray eyes her delight at seeing him. Henry reached for her hand and delivered a soft kiss.

"I don't think there are words to describe how wonderful you look tonight," he said. Never one to relish a compliment, Faye blushed.

"You look rather handsome yourself tonight," she said. "Would you be so kind as to escort me to our seats?" 

Presenting Faye with the crook of his arm, Henry led her confidently through the crowd and on toward the main staircase.

With the curtain call in less than twenty minutes, Winifred was still back in her dressing room. She was trying her best to remain calm and composed. Having always performed in front of small, intimate groups, the roar of the eager crowd in the lobby was making her surprisingly anxious. Of all the things she had to worry about, stage fright seemed like the last of them. Staring at herself in the mirror, she tried to think back to the things in her mind that anchored her, the things that would tether her composure in the blinding stage lights.

I see you. 

Winifred closed her eyes momentarily. "I won't fail you," she muttered under her breath.

"Who won't you fail?"

Startled, Winifred's eyes snapped open to spot Jacob leaned in her dressing room doorway. With two flutes of champagne and a cocky smile, he sauntered over to Winifred's side.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

"Sharing a toast with tonight's star," he replied, extending a flute to Winifred. She glared at him before snatching the drink. "It'll help calm your nerves."

"I'm not nervous."

Jacob smirked as he watched her drink it down. "I was going to propose a toast, but by all means," he said with a sip.

"What are you really doing here, Jacob? I thought I made it clear I wasn't interested in you or what you had to say about Mr. Lemiux. As you can tell by the size of tonight's crowd, things are going just fine." She paused, glanced at the wall clock. "Thank you for the drink. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to be on stage in less than fifteen minutes."

Jacob put a hand on her shoulder. "Then give me ten minutes of your time to--"

"You have five minutes of my time," she snapped, taking another small sip of champagne.

Outside Winifred's dressing room, the buzz of activity was reaching fever pitch. Energized with a restless energy, Emmanuel made the rounds double checking props and reviewing the final schedule with Duncan. Daphne, dressed in her sparkling sequin gown and garish stage make-up, was beside herself with stage fright. She stood frozen by the curtain, watching the lavishly dressed audience pour into the auditorium. But below the stage, Robert could only hear than creaking floorboards and soft murmur of the crowd.

He'd stumbling down the stairs when he quickly ducked through the door, eventually locating a handrail in the dark to guide him. Thanks to some the matches in his pocket, he found an oil lamp hanging from the wall beside the stairs he'd tripped down in the dark. With the aid of the lamplight, he crept further into the storage area. The dank, musty room was crowded with boxes and racks of old costumes. But Robert inspected none of them, choosing instead to follow his nose as the oddly familiar smell of putrefaction pulled him into the furthest corner of the space.

Robert eventually arrived at a large, barrel-shaped metal boiler that provided heat for the building during the cold winter months. As he held the lantern aloft to scan the area, his eyes picked up the protrusion of a pair of men's legs sticking out from behind the far side of the boiler.

"Good heavens!" he croaked, clutching a hand to his mouth at the sight of Anthony Tilford's body. 

Just like Chester Dolin, Anthony's mouth was filled with mud, his bulging eyes open and milky. Robert set the lantern on the ground and inspected the Anthony's pockets for some kind of identification or other clues to his grisly fate.

The meticulous search yielded little, though Robert removed and pocketed the cast iron knucklebuster, four-inch knife, and set of three keys on a ring. Satisfied that there were no other personal effects on the man, Robert retrieved the lamp and scanned the area for any clues, or worse, other bodies. Finding nothing of note, he swallowed hard and returned to the stairs. The show would start soon, and if the body he'd just discovered was any indication, there wasn't much time to spare.