§ 177 The Real Point of the Joke
Two American performers, filling vaudeville engagements in London, took lodgings together in a house on a side street back of Covent Gardens. Late at night, following the first day of their joint tenancy they left the theatre in company and, having had a bite and a drink at a chophouse set out afoot for the new diggings. One of the pair undertook to show the way. The trouble was, though, that for the life of him he couldn’t recall the name of the street where the house stood nor the number of the house. For nearly an hour they wandered through deserted byways seeking their destination. Finally they happened upon a street which wore a familiar look. Sure enough, half way down the block stood the house where they were quartered.
With glad cries the tired pair hurried to it. Here a fresh difficulty arose. They had no latch keys. Coming away that afternoon neither had thought to ask their landlady for a key. However, the second man figured he could pick the lock. He worked at it vainly for another half hour while his companion fidgeted about. Finally in disgust and despair he gave it up as a bad job, and the two of them went to a hotel where they spent the remainder of the night.
Now comes the point of the story: The man who could not remember the name of the street, nor the number of the house, was Barton the Memory Wizard. The man who could not master the lock was Houdini, the Handcuff King.
§ 178 The Mystery of Wednesday
A Broadway actor got carried away by the spirit of the prohibition times and remained carried away for several days. He came to himself in his own room without knowing exactly how he got there. A friend sat beside him.
“Hello,” he said, as he opened his eyes, “what day is this?”
“This,” said his friend, “is Thursday.”
The invalid thought it over a minute.
“What became of Wednesday?” he asked.