I Alone Know
Reading time: 14 minutes
✨ Overview (TL;DR)
Date: 20 July 2026
The deck is the city of New Orleans, 1919—every card a citizen in fear. With a reproduction of the Axeman’s infamous letter in hand, the magician reveals how the jazz-loving serial killer selected his victims: by using his adopted name to find the one card a spectator merely thought of—his next unfortunate victim.
- Effect Type: Location
- Difficulty: ★★★☆☆ (Easy)
- Duration: 2–3 minutes
- Setup Time: Modest
- Reset Time: 2 minutes
- Props: Standard pack of playing cards, printed Axeman letter, envelope
- Key Moves & Principles: Envelope load, key card, Automatic Placement
Introduction
This is another of my tricks based on the Automatic Placement, named and popularised by Ed Marlo. While I love this mathematical method, without a compelling presentation to accompany it, it becomes painfully obvious, especially to those with analytical minds.
In “I Alone Know”, I’m revisiting the grisly true-crime mystery of the Axeman of New Orleans (see my blog post Jazz, Murder & Magic! for my previous work on the topic). For those unfamiliar with this cold case, the Axeman was a notorious serial killer active in and around New Orleans, Louisiana, in the early twentieth century. He broke into his victims’ homes (using a chisel to loosen a door panel), then attacked the occupants, usually asleep in bed, with an axe (often belonging to the homeowners). The killer was never identified or apprehended, and the murders were never solved.
To clarify, the Axeman was a real serial killer, despite sounding like a character in a best-selling crime novel. By most accounts, he murdered at least six people, including a two-year-old child, and seriously injured another six. Care must be taken to honour the memory of his very real victims when performing “I Alone Know”.
Effect
A spectator thoroughly shuffles a deck of cards as you remove a letter from your pocket and hand it out to be examined and read.
You explain that the letter is a reproduction of one purportedly written by “the Axeman of New Orleans”, an infamous serial killer active in the early twentieth century. It was published in the New Orleans Times-Picayune. In it, the Axeman threatened to kill again on the night of 19 March at fifteen minutes past midnight, but promised to spare the occupants of any home where a jazz band was playing.
Next, you invite a spectator to play the part of “The Angel of Death” and pick the Axeman’s next victim by choosing a secret number between one and ten (inclusive). This number is then used to mentally select a playing card “by association”. The chosen card is cut back into the deck, and the spectator repeatedly cuts the cards so that no one knows where the Axeman’s next victim resides.
You mention that one card in the deck represents the Axeman and is considered extremely unlucky in New Orleans. So unlucky, in fact, that many people remove it from the deck before playing cards, believing it to be cursed by the evil spirit of the jazz-loving killer. Matching action to words, you run through the pack and remove the King of Diamonds. The rest of the cards are placed face down on the table.
You explain that the King’s nickname is “The Man with the Axe” because he’s the only monarch who holds an axe.
You then ask the spectator holding the letter to read the second paragraph:
“When I see fit, I shall come and claim other victims. I alone know whom they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with blood and brains of he whom I have sent below to keep me company.”
You tell your audience that one reason the killer evaded capture was the absence of any discernible pattern in how he selected his victims. One detective, however, had a theory that he used his adopted name to find his next victim.
You pick up the deck and slowly deal one card onto the table for each letter in the phrase “M-A-N-W-I-T-H-T-H-E-A-X-E”. Turning the last card of the deal over, the one that falls on the letter “E”, you reveal it to be the selected card—the Axeman has found his next victim! At that very moment, jazz begins to play in the room in which you’re performing, saving the card from its grisly fate.
Requirements & Preparation
To perform the routine as described, you’ll need to print out a copy of the Axeman’s letter. I’ve created a Google Doc version of it to make this as easy as possible. I think the letter looks best if you use a typewriter-style font (I’ve used one called Special Elite). Better yet, if you own a typewriter, you could manually type out a copy of the letter to make it look as authentic as possible.
Alternatively, you could write the letter by hand. As far as I can tell, there is no detailed record or photo of the letter received by the New Orleans Times-Picayune newspaper, so it may well have been handwritten.
Fold the letter and place it in a suitable envelope. Take the King of Diamonds from the deck and place it beneath the envelope. Slide the envelope and card, as a single unit, into your wallet, then place the wallet in your inside jacket pocket.
Method & Presentation
Hand out the deck to be shuffled, and explain that it will represent the city of New Orleans at the turn of the twentieth century—each card a colourful character living in the Big Easy.
Remove the wallet from your inside jacket pocket. Carefully slide the envelope out, keeping the face-down King of Diamonds concealed beneath it. Hold the envelope in your right hand, with your thumb on top and fingers below, securing the hidden card against the underside of the envelope.
Offer your empty left hand to the spectator who shuffled the cards, prompting him to return the deck to you. Holding the cards in a loose left-hand dealer’s grip, place the envelope on top of the cards, secretly loading the King of Diamonds onto the deck. (The excuse for this action is to make it easier to open the envelope and extract the letter.) Hand the Axeman’s letter to a spectator to read, and place the envelope onto the table to one side (it won’t be needed again).
Explain to another spectator that you want her to play the part of the Angel of Death, mentioned in the letter, and pick “the Axeman’s next victim”. To do this, she must randomly select a “secret number between one and ten”. Once she has a number in mind, ask her to deal that many cards into a pile on the table while your back is turned. To demonstrate, deal seven cards into a pile, then drop the remainder on top. Pick up the combined deck and say, “Make sure you square up the cards before I turn back around, so I can’t see how many you transferred from the top to the bottom.” Perform another demonstration, this time with two cards, to emphasise what you want her to do (and reduce the chance of her making a mistake while your back is turned).
Situation Check
The key card (KD) is now positioned third from the bottom of the deck.
Turn away and let your participant deal any number of cards (from one to ten) onto the table, drop the remainder on top, and then square up.
Turn back to face your audience. Pick up the deck and perform your favourite false cut (I favour Bobby Bernard’s False Swing Cut).
Tell your helper that she’s going to use her secret number to select a “random victim” from the deck. Take the top card, show its face to your spectator, and say “One” before placing it on the table. Display the next card in the same way as you count “two”. Do the same with the next card, counting “three”. Continue until you’ve dealt a total of ten cards into a pile. Make sure you do this slowly so the spectator has time to remember her card, regardless of the number it lands on.
Drop the remaining cards onto the ten-card pile.
🔥 Hot Tip
Instead of just dropping the cards onto the ten-card pile, you can perform Bobby Bernard’s False Swing Cut again, which helps better disguise the use of a key card.
Pick up the combined deck and demonstrate a standard cut, asking your participant to do the same while your back is turned. Turn away and instruct her to cut the cards (and complete the cut) as many times as she wishes.
Take back the deck and say, “There’s one card in the deck said to represent the Axeman. Card players in New Orleans are a superstitious lot, and they often remove this card from the deck. They believe it’s cursed by the Axeman’s evil spirit and that anyone who draws it will receive bad luck.” Run through the cards and cut the King of Diamonds to the face, before dropping it to the table. Turn the rest of the cards face down and place them on the table in front of you.
Situation Check
Cutting the King to the face and removing him leaves the thought-of card exactly thirteenth from the top of the deck.
Point to the axe behind the King’s head, as you say, “The King of Diamonds is known as ‘The Man with the Axe’ because he’s the only King brandishing an axe. That’s why poker players call him ‘the Axeman’.”
Ask the spectator who selected the victim to take the letter and read the second paragraph of the letter (or read it yourself to ensure suitable dramatic emphasis):
“When I see fit, I shall come and claim other victims. I alone know whom they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with blood and brains of he whom I have sent below to keep me company.”
Tell your audience that one reason the killer evaded capture was that there was no discernible pattern in how he selected his victims. One detective, you explain, had a theory that the killer used his adopted name to find his next victim.
Pick up the deck and slowly deal one card onto the table for each letter in the phrase “M-A-N-W-I-T-H-T-H-E-A-X-E”. Slowly turn the last card of the deal over—the one that falls on the letter “E”—to reveal it to be the selected card. The Axeman has found his next victim!
🔥 Hot Tip
If possible, have a friend surreptitiously start a jazz track on a nearby sound system as you finish the routine. I recommend “Axman Jazz (Don’t Scare Me Papa)” by the Squirrel Nut Zippers.
In a casual home performance, this is easy to arrange. Likewise, in a professional performance environment, you should be able to have the audio play on cue when technical support is available. Otherwise, you can just openly put on some Jazz music yourself after reading the letter and make a joke about it.
Cleanup & Reset
Place the letter back in the envelope, then slide the envelope, along with the King of Diamonds, into your wallet as you say, “I don’t think I’ll return the King of Diamonds to the deck, just in case!”
Performance Tips & Additional Ideas
Instead of storing the envelope and card in your wallet, you might like to try hiding the King of Diamonds inside the envelope, beneath the letter. This will, of course, require a slightly more elaborate loading sequence: open the envelope and extract the letter with your right hand, using your fingers and thumb, keeping the King hidden beneath it. Drop the empty envelope on the table (in the middle of your performance space). Take back the cards, then temporarily place the letter on top of the deck so you can relocate the envelope (secretly offloading the card onto the deck), as it is ostensibly in your way. Take the letter and hand it to your spectator to read.
On balance, I think I prefer this approach because it makes sense to return the letter and the “cursed card” to the envelope and tidy everything away once the routine is finished.
Background & Credits
Although Edward Marlo is certainly responsible for naming and popularising the Automatic Placement in the mid-1950s, he did not invent the underlying mathematical concept. The technique of using a spectator’s count, deal or cut to secretly manoeuvre a card into a known numerical position has a long lineage in the literature of magic. Marlo formally introduced the term in The New Phoenix No. 329 (August 1955, page 126), before cementing its utility in his 1958 Faro Notes, where he thoroughly explored its mechanics and applications.
However, the specific procedure was already circulating in print before Marlo’s contributions. According to Peter Duffie, the earliest identified application of the modern handling is generally attributed to Van Osdol’s “Number Trick”, found in Rufus Steele’s 1946 book 50 Tricks You Can Do. A few years later, Eddie Joseph also explored similar mechanics in his 1950 book, Eddie’s Dumbfounders with Cards.
Looking further into the historical record, the foundational mathematics of counting and reversing packets to dictate a card’s final position are rooted in the broader Transposed Cards Principle. These early conceptual ancestors are detailed in classical texts such as Professor Hoffmann’s 1876 Modern Magic and trace back to Pablo Minguet’s 1733 Spanish publication, Engaños a ojos vistas (Deceptions in plain sight). Ultimately, while Marlo organised and codified the principle for modern practitioners, the method itself is a brilliant evolution of mathematical techniques passed down through centuries of printed magic history.
The envelope-loading principle is attributed to magician Arthur Carter and is featured in his trick “Out of This Wallet” in the book Magic Circle Magic, edited by Will Dexter and published in 1963 by Harry Clarke as a tribute to George and Lewis Davenport.
A Note on the History of the Axeman Murders
As with any entertainment dealing with true crime, care must be taken not to forget the victims. The Axeman’s crimes were real. Between 1918 and 1919, at least six people were murdered in and around New Orleans—most of them Italian-American grocers, attacked in their beds with their own axes by an intruder who entered through a chiselled door panel. The dead included Mary Cortimiglia, aged two. Two innocent men, a father and son, were convicted of the attack on the basis of testimony later recanted, and were freed in 1920. The killer was never identified. Out of respect for his victims, the presentation above focuses on his legend rather than their lives; I’d encourage you to present it the same way.
The authorship of the letter is disputed. It was published in the Times-Picayune in March 1919, datelined “Hell, March 13”, and the city answered it—on the night of the nineteenth, jazz played in homes and halls across New Orleans, and nobody died. Whether the Axeman wrote it is another matter: historian Miriam Davis (The Axeman of New Orleans, 2017) suggests it may have been the work of Joseph John Davilla, the local composer who profited from the tune “The Mysterious Axman’s Jazz”. If she’s right, one of the most famous supernatural boasts in American crime history was a publicity stunt by a showman. (This possibility feels almost too fitting, given the nature of this short series on the Automatic Placement principle.)
Everything else—the cursed card, the superstitious poker players of New Orleans, the detective and his theory—is my invention for the sake of the trick. The King of Diamonds is known as the Man with the Axe, or the Axeman. However, the card has nothing to do with the killer beyond the coincidence on which this trick is built. As always, the history is history; the patter is patter.
Final Thoughts
This is a fairly simple application of the Automatic Placement combined with the classic key card principle. However, because the cards are thoroughly shuffled by a spectator, the deception is harder to detect.
Even without the Axeman’s letter, the trick can be performed by cutting the King of Diamonds to the top and then retaining it there with an overhand jog shuffle. However, the letter makes the trick far more memorable and distinctive.
If you like the theme of this trick, you might also enjoy “Man with the Axe” and “The Axeman’s Ghost”, both of which I published on my blog some time ago:
If you’ve already learned “Gambler’s Lament” (see Easy Does It #12: Gambler’s Lament), you’ll recognise the bare bones of this trick immediately: the same secret deal, the same ten-card count, and the same thirteen-letter spell—that’s all by design. The two routines are, mechanically, near-identical twins—and yet no audience would ever mistake one for the other because of their very different presentational approaches.
In the Appalachian Mountains, the count is a fortune-telling rhyme, and the spelling is a charm binding a scoundrel spirit to your service; in 1919 New Orleans, the count picks an unlucky soul, and the spelling is the killer on the hunt for a victim—the name doesn’t catch the killer; it chooses his next victim. One procedure unfolds as a folk ritual, the other as a cold case. The same fourteen-card stack, yet very different shivers.
That, really, is the point of this series. The Automatic Placement doesn’t change from one trick to the next. However, the story the audience experiences does, while the underlying mathematical principle quietly makes each trick work. If presentation were mere decoration, these two tricks would feel the same. They don’t—which is the strongest argument I know for treating the presentation as the trick.
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