A FOREWORD ON HOUDINI.

IFEEL that the stories on Houdini contained in this volume require some word of explanation. From the nature of the incidents described, it has struck me that I may be accused of showing the character of my old friend in an unfavourable light. Such is not my intention.

My friendship with Houdini extended over a period of thirty years, and I feel that few men are better qualified to pass an opinion on his character than myself.

But so much has been written in Houdini's praise that the public have become saturated with ideas of his greatness, ideas which in many cases are grossly exaggerated. In the stories I have related, I have endeavoured to show that Houdini was an ordinary human being, with as many weaknesses as you and I. In fact, I have represented the man as he was, and not as most people believe him to have been.

I could write many stories in Houdini's praise, but my time would be wasted. The public have read so much of his tenderness to children and animals, his touching affection for his mother, and his courage and daring, that he has come to be regarded as a sort of faultless Super Being.

He was generally acknowledged a great performer. This he certainly was. He has also been described as a magical master. This he was not. He was a clever conjurer, and nothing more. His genius--what a sadly misused word that is!--lay more in the direction of showmanship than in magic.

He was a man of moods, sometimes sweet and kind, but just as often the reverse. After one of his most violent outbursts, I told him that if it were not for his uncontrollable temper and stupid conceit, he would be a most lovable man.

He smiled and held out his hand.

"I know, Will," he said. "Thank you for your frankness."

That was typical of Houdini. I must be just as frank now.