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today you asked me if there were any symptoms by which one could identify a criminal, or potential criminal, who is ruled by the
id,’
he said to Watson. ‘Though it is not possible to tell at a glance, the use – or indeed the
avoidance
– of humour canreveal much about a man.
    ‘You see, it is the
super-ego
that allows the
ego
to generate humour. A selfish
super-ego
will allow nothing more than sarcasm. One that is harsher still will stifle humour entirely. But a kindly
super-ego
will manifest itself in the use of harmless, almost silly humour. Thus, the wit a man uses has the potential to identify him as one who cannot even countenance the breaking of the law; one who might consider it, if there is no other recourse, and one who will break the law quite willingly, as a shortcut to achieving his desires.’
    Impressed, Watson said, ‘I have a joke for you, and I do believe it puts me in that first category.’
    ‘Then pray, let us hear it,’ said Freud.
    Stifling a schoolboy grin, Watson said, ‘What is the difference between a tube and a foolish Dutchman?’ Chortling, he then said, ‘One is a hollow cylinder, and the other is a silly Hollander.’
    He finally gave way to a full-throated laugh. Regrettably, neither Holmes nor Freud found the joke anywhere near as amusing.
    ‘I have a favourite joke,’ said Freud, after Watson had finally managed to bring himself under control. ‘The king meets his absolute double, and asks him, “Did your mother work in the palace?” The double replies, “No. But my father did.”’
    He and Watson laughed as if it were the funniest thing they had ever heard.
    Holmes watched them both in bewilderment. ‘I am afraid the joke escapes me,’ he said dourly.
    Freud frowned, surprised. ‘You don’t understand it?’
    ‘I’m sorry, no. And yet you
do
, Watson.’ He seemed mildly peeved by the fact.
    ‘Of course,’ said Watson, wiping his eyes. ‘The implication in the question is, “Have we the same father?” The implication of the answer is, “No, but we have the same mother.”’
    ‘So what is the joke?’ asked Holmes.
    But that only caused Freud and Watson to laugh again, and Holmes could only shake his head in near-complete bafflement.
     
    Later, having promised Freud that they would visit him again before the end of their holiday, Holmes and Watson returned to the hotel. Each retired to his room to rest and reflect upon the more tumultuous events of the day.
    After an excellent supper, they set out by cab to the Theater an der Burg, and the opening night of Houdini’s show.
    The Theater was the last in a series of magnificent buildings to be constructed around the Ringstrasse, and came close to dominating them all. As they stepped out of the cab, Watson craned his neck to look up at the magnificent edifice which was guarded by an imposing statue of Apollo. With its white columns and domed roof, the place bore an uncanny resemblance to a cathedral, although Watson suspected that it was considerably larger than most cathedrals.
    ‘My copy of
Bradshaw’s
certainly did not mislead me,’ he told Holmes. ‘This place is absolutely stunning.’
    ‘Quite.’
    ‘Fourteen years in the construction, you know,’ Watson continued. ‘And it is said to have one of the largest stages of any theatre in the world.’
    ‘Then I fear Mr Houdini will look rather lost amid so much empty space.’
    ‘On the contrary, I fancy that a man of his stature would be more likely to dwarf any venue at which he appears.’
    As they approached the ornate, brightly-lit entrance, they were quickly surrounded by the patrons in evening dress who were filing in.
    ‘Shouldn’t we, ah, speak to Houdini first?’ asked Watson. ‘I mean, we
are
here as his guests, and there is still the better part of half an hour to kill before the curtain goes up. Surely we should wish him luck for tonight’s performance?’
    Holmes eyed him, amused. ‘And perhaps get the opportunity to rub shoulders