Little Novels

here, as if he were dead.'

'Are you speaking of the thing called Animal Magnetism, madam?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And you believe in it, of course?'

'My son's belief, sir, is my belief in this thing as in other things. I have heard what he has been saying to you. It is for me that he sacrifices himself by holding these exhibitions; it is in my poor interests that his hardly-earned money is made. I am in infirm health; and, remonstrate as I may, my son persists in providing for me, not the bare comforts only, but even the luxuries of life. Whatever I may suffer, I have my compensation; I can still thank God for giving me the greatest happiness that a woman can enjoy, the possession of a good son.'

She smiled fondly as she looked at the sleeping man. 'Draw your chair nearer to him,' she resumed, 'and take his hand. You may speak freely in making your inquiries. Nothing that happens in this room goes out of it.'

With those words she returned to her place, in the corner behind her son's chair.

The visitor took Doctor Lagarde's hand. As they touched each other, he was conscious of a faintly-titillating sensation in his own hand—a sensation which oddly reminded him of bygone experiments with an electrical machine, in the days when he was a boy at school!

'I wish to question you about my future life,' he began. 'How ought I to begin?'

The Doctor spoke his first words in the monotonous tones of a man talking in his sleep.

'Own your true motive before you begin,' he said. 'Your interest in your future life is centered in a woman. You wish to know if her heart will be yours in the time that is to come—and there your interest in your future life ends.'

This startling proof of the sleeper's capacity to look, by sympathy, into his mind, and to see there his most secret thoughts, instead of convincing the stranger, excited his suspicions. 'You have means of getting information,' he said, 'that I don't understand.'

The Doctor smiled, as if the idea amused him.

Madame Lagarde rose from her seat and interposed.

'Hundreds of strangers come here to consult my son,' she said quietly. 'If you believe that we know who those strangers are, and that we have the means of inquiring into their private lives before they enter this room, you believe in something much more incredible than the magnetic sleep!'

This was too manifestly true to be disputed. The visitor made his apologies.

'I should like to have some explanation,' he added. 'The thing is so very extraordinary. How can I prevail upon Doctor Lagarde to enlighten me?'

'He can only tell you what he sees,' Madame Lagarde answered; 'ask him that, and you will get a direct reply. Say to him: 'Do you see the lady?''

The stranger repeated the question. The reply followed at once, in these words:

'I see two figures standing side by side. One of them is your figure. The other is the figure of a lady. She only appears dimly. I can discover nothing but that she is taller than women generally are, and that she is dressed in pale blue.'

The man to whom he was speaking started at those last words. 'Her favorite color!' he thought to himself— forgetting that, while he held the Doctor's hand, the Doctor could think with his mind.

'Yes,' added the sleeper quietly, 'her favorite color, as you know. She fades and fades as I look at her,' he went on. 'She is gone. I only see you, under a new aspect. You have a pistol in your hand. Opposite to you, there stands the figure of another man. He, too, has a pistol in his hand. Are you enemies? Are you meeting to fight a duel? Is the lady the cause? I try, but I fail to see her.'

'Can you describe the man?'

'Not yet. So far, he is only a shadow in the form of a man.'

There was another interval. An appearance of disturbance showed itself on the sleeper's face. Suddenly, he waved his free hand in the direction of the waiting-room.

'Send for the visitors who are there,' he said. 'They are all to come in. Each one of them is to take one of my hands in turn—while you remain where you are, holding the other hand. Don't let go of me, even for a moment. My mother will ring.'

Madame Lagarde touched a bell on the table. The servant received his orders from her and retired. After a short absence, he appeared again in the consulting-room, with one visitor only waiting on the threshold behind him.

CHAPTER IV.

THE MAN.

'The other three gentlemen have gone away, madam,' the servant explained, addressing Madame Lagarde. 'They were tired of waiting. I found this gentleman fast asleep; and I am afraid he is angry with me for taking the liberty of waking him.'

'Sleep of the common sort is evidently not allowed in this house.' With that remark the gentleman entered the room, and stood revealed as the original owner of the card numbered Fourteen.

Viewed by the clear lamplight, he was a tall, finely-made man, in the prime of life, with a florid complexion, golden-brown hair, and sparkling blue eyes. Noticing Madame Lagarde, he instantly checked the flow of his satire, with the instinctive good-breeding of a gentleman. 'I beg your pardon,' he said; 'I have a great many faults, and a habit of making bad jokes is one of them. Is the servant right, madam, in telling me that I have the honor of presenting myself here at your request?'