They are, however, on the best of terms with one another personally, being rivals only professionally. Once it happened that Houdini had a week’s engagement at Leeds at the same time that Hardeen was appearing at Bradford.
Houdini arrived in the former town very late at night, and desiring to see his brother on an urgent matter of business he went over to Bradford, arriving there about two o’clock in the morning, when, of course, everybody had gone to bed.
However, Houdini made the best of his way to where his brother lodged, and after he had been knocking and hammering at the door for about twenty minutes, “loud enough,” as he expressed it, “to wake the dead,” the landlord put his head out of the window.
“Who are you? What do you want?” he asked rather irately.
“I’m Houdini, the handcuff king, and I want to see my brother, Mr. Hardeen, on important business,” was the reply. “Come down and open the door.”
The landlord grunted. Then—“Oh, you’re Houdini, are you? That there chap as can open any lock?”
“Yes! Yes! That’s me!” cried the Handcuff King impatiently.
“Well then,” quoth the landlord, “if that be so, why don’t ’ee open t’ lock o’ front door, an’ walk right in? What dost want to knock me up for? I’m going back to bed.”
And go back to bed he did, leaving poor Houdini cooling his heels on the doorstep, until such time as he chose to take his departure and return to Leeds.
Here is a little telepathic spoof that anyone can accomplish who has a telephone in their house, or if not they can make use of the telegraph service.