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The Vanishing Trick by Max Afford is a spellbinding mystery that will captivate you from the very first page. When a renowned magician is found dead under mysterious circumstances, the world is stunned. The only clue? A vanishing trick gone horribly wrong. Detective Chief Inspector Grenville is tasked with unraveling the enigma, but as he delves deeper into the world of illusion and deceit, he discovers that the lines between reality and trickery are perilously thin. With every turn of the page, the stakes rise, and Grenville must use all his skill to uncover the truth before more lives are lost. Enter the world of magic and mystery—where nothing is as it seems and every trick hides a dangerous secret.
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The Vanishing Trick
Biographical Note
The Vanishing Trick
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Table of Contents
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Max Afford was Australia's most prolific radio dramatist. Before television, there was radio and it took a man of Afford's skill and professionalism to turn out as many hours of entertainment as he did right up until his death in 1954. Born in Parkside, Adelaide, in 1906, Afford was a journalist before turning to radio serials and stage plays.
From 1932 until his death, Afford wrote many of the most popular serials of the time including Digger Hale's Daughter, Hagen's Circus, and Danger Limited. It was said that in the 1930s Afford was one of the few people to make a living from writing drama. His radio success spilled over onto stage. He created Australian theatrical history by having two plays presented professionally—Lady in Danger in May 1944 and Mischief in the Air in August 1944 (both produced by J.C. Williamson at Sydney's Theatre Royal). Lady in Danger was also staged on Broadway.
Afford wrote five detective novels. These were: Blood On His Hands (London, J. Long, 1936; Sydney, Frank Johnson, 1945), Death Mannikins (London, J. Long, 1937; Sydney, Frank Johnson, 1945), The Dead Are Blind (London, J. Long, 1937; Sydney, Collins, 1949), Fly by Night (London, J. Long 1942; as Owl Of Darkness, Sydney, Angus & Robertson, 1945). In December 1948 the short story 'Vanishing Trick' appeared in Frank Johnson's new magazine, Detective Fiction. The magazine was short lived but an extremely worthy production which included the work of such writers as Frank Walford, Bob McKinnon, Audrey Francis, Richard and Alfreda Phillips, and Norman Way.
Following the first issue, Johnson received a letter from Arthur Upfield who said: 'I thought the range of stories very good and give best marks to Max Afford.' Johnson also reprinted some of Afford's novels in his Magpie paperback series, Afford receiving the munificent sum of £25 for every 10,000 copies sold.
Jeffrey and Elizabeth Blackburn, stars of a long-running Afford radio series as well as several novels, made a late curtain call in Detective Fiction. 'Vanishing Trick' typifies the mannered, slightly tongue in cheek, stories of the period—heavy on drawing rooms, witty dialogue and deductive brilliance.
'No ghost,' said Sally Rutland firmly. 'But we've got a kinda haunted room!'
She pronounced it 'hanted' since Sally Rutland hailed from Dallas, Texas.
Mr Jeffrey Blackburn, seated in the deep leather chair in the panelled room at Kettering Old House, looked across at Elizabeth and lowered his right eyelid an imperceptible fraction. The movement said plainly, 'Darling, I told you so!'
Mrs Blackburn, swathed in satin, her corn-yellow hair shining under the massive electric chandelier, caught the expression.
'But, darling! If you've got a haunted room, then you must have a ghost!'
'Not here!'
'Then what happened in this room?'
Sally Rutland said calmly, 'People just vanish into thin air!'
'Oh-oh,' chuckled Mr Blackburn inwardly. His eyes slid around, taking in the expressions of the assembled guests.
There were six other people in the great reception room at Kettering. Almost opposite Blackburn, the thriller writer Evan Lambert hunched his thin body forward in an attitude curiously suggestive of a question mark.
On the square, ruddy face of the man next to him there was absolutely no expression at all. John Wilkins, of the Wilkins Trust and Finance Company, sat motionless, a statue to Mammon in well-cut tweeds, a business colossus whose self control was as rigid as the wall behind him.
Then there was Miss Rountree, an obscure relative of Jim Rutland's—middle-aged, greying and somehow pathetic, like the bedraggled artificial roses she wore at her flat bosom. Her sagging face was ringed in circles—round eyes behind rounded spectacles, the little mouth pursed into an O of wondering anticipation. With all the ardour of the very lonely, Miss Rountree grasped at the promise of a new sensation, as in the past she had grasped at Yogism, Mental Healing, Physical Perfection in Diet and Inner Truths through Controlled Breathing.
Jeffery's eyes came around to their hosts.