Harry felt the last solidity failing beneath him; felt thepit call. Even as his feet left the ground, that groundfaded to nothing, and for a terrifying moment he hungover the Gulfs, his hands seeking the lip of the casket.His right hand caught hold of one of the handles, andclosed thankfully around it. His arm was almost jerkedfrom its socket as it took his body-weight, but he flunghis other arm up and found the casket-edge. Using itas purchase, he hauled himself up like a half-drownedsailor. It was a strange lifeboat, but then this was astrange sea. Infinitely deep, infinitely terrible.

Even as he laboured to secure himself a better hand-hold, the casket shook, and Harry looked up to discoverthat the dead man was sitting upright. Swann's eyesopened wide. He turned them on Harry; they werefar from benign. The next moment the dead illusionistwas scrambling to his feet - the floating casket rockingever more violently with each movement. Once vertical,Swann proceeded to dislodge his guest by grinding hisheel in Harry's knuckles. Harry looked up at Swann,begging for him to stop.

The Great Pretender was a sight to see. His eyes werestarting from his sockets; his shirt was torn open todisplay the exit-wound in his chest. It was bleedingafresh. A rain of cold blood fell upon Harry's upturnedface. And still the heel ground at his hands. Harryfelt his grip slipping. Swann, sensing his approachingtriumph, began to smile.

'Fall, boy!' he said. 'Fall!'

Harry could take no more. In a frenzied effort to savehimself he let go of the handle in his right hand, andreached up to snatch at Swann's trouser-leg. His fingersfound the hem, and he pulled. The smile vanishedfrom the illusionist's face as he felt his balance go. Hereached behind him to take hold of the casket lid forsupport, but the gesture only tipped the casket furtherover. The plush cushion tumbled past Harry's head;