Amusement Only Part 42

Such a contingency was only to be expected. When a man, after long absence from his wife, returns to find a stranger experimenting on her, and she in a "hypnotic" condition, from which the stranger cannot release her, his first feelings towards that stranger are not, in civilised countries, invariably friendly. Mr. Pownceby, when he had blown the "cold wind" all out of him, arrived at a resolution.

"I will tell Doris. I must get her to help me. It is quite certain that, whatever happens, I mustn't let that man come and find me alone with his wife."

It was only the dread of such a catastrophe that brought him to the "sticking-point" of his resolution. Miss Haseltine--christened Doris--was Mr. Pownceby's betrothed. She also was wintering in the hotel with her mamma. Mr. Pownceby was aware, even painfully aware, that the young lady's feelings towards Mrs. Pratt were not of the warmest possible kind. He was equally conscious that her impression was that his feelings were, if anything, _too_ warm. He would rather anything had happened, almost, than that he should have been reduced to the necessity of acquainting Miss Haseltine with the situation he was in. But it was certainly impossible for him to allow the returning husband to come in and find him there, alone with his wife, and she apparently in a chronic hypnotic condition.

So he went in search of the young lady. Of course he found her where he would have least wished to find her--in the drawing-room with the ladies. He had to call her out, and at first she wouldn't come.

But as it would have been impossible for him to tell his tale in the presence of a dozen sharp-eared and sharp-tongued women, he protested that there was something of the utmost importance which he must say to her alone. "Well, what is it?" she asked, directly he had got her outside the door. He perceived that she was not in one of her sentimental moods. Perhaps something in his manner had roused her suspicions.

"Mrs. Pratt has fainted."

"Indeed? What has that to do with me? Let her faint. She looks to me as though she were the sort of person who could faint at pleasure."

"Doris, for goodness' sake hear me out; I want your help. It's through me she's fainted."

"Pray what do you mean?"

"It's--it's this confounded thing." Mr. Pownceby held out the slim, green-covered pamphlet. "You know I told you I'd written for that pamphlet, 'How to Hypnotise.' Well, the thing came this morning; here it is! I've been experimenting on her, and I've not only hypnotised her, but, by George, I can't get her round again."

"A pretty state of things, upon my word."

"Don't pitch into me now, Doris, don't. There she is in her sitting-room in a fit or something; I don't know what's the matter with her; and her husband's coming this morning."

"He is coming at last, is he?"

"I expect him every moment; he's due at 12.32."

"She seems to have told you all about it."

"She told me so much, at any rate. I know I've been an a.s.s, I can see that now, but lend me a hand first, and let me have it afterwards. I was obliged to come to you. I couldn't let him find me alone with her in such a state as that. Come and see what you can do for her, there's a darling, do! After all, it's for me, you know, not her."

Miss Haseltine yielded so far as to advance with him along the corridor. There was a fresh arrival when they reached the hall--a gentleman. He was speaking to the young lady, who acted as book-keeper, through the office window.

"My name is Pratt--Gilead J. Pratt. I believe my wife is staying here."

Mr. Pownceby clutched Miss Haseltine's arm.

"It's he!" he whispered.

"There is a Mrs. Pratt staying here," replied the book-keeper. "Her sitting-room is No. 13."

The new arrival was about to be ushered into No. 13, when Mr. Pownceby interposed. He hurried across the hall and touched him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, may I speak to you? My name is Pownceby."

The new arrival turned and faced him. As he did so Mr. Pownceby perceived, a little dimly perhaps, what sort of a man he was. He was of medium height, slightly built, about forty years of age, very dark, with a clean-shaven face and a pair of keen black eyes, which looked at Mr. Pownceby as though they meant to pierce him.

"Delighted to hear you speak, or any man, even if his name's not Pownceby."

Directly the words were spoken Mr. Pownceby became conscious that the new arrival was an American.

"I believe you are Mr. Pratt--Mrs. Pratt's husband."

"I am--worse luck."

"Eh--she intended to meet you at 12.32."

"She did, did she? That's her all through. As she used to be. She never did get farther than intentions. It is about two years since I saw her, and I don't see her now. Have you a message to deliver? Does she desire that I should go away for another two years? If so, I'm willing."

As this was said out loud, without the slightest attempt at concealment, so that every word was audible, not only to Mr. Pownceby, to whom the remarks were addressed, but also to Miss Haseltine, and the book-keeper, and the porter, and the boots, and the waiter, and the chambermaid, and any other straggler who might happen to be within fifty yards or so, it would seem that in her husband Mrs. Pratt possessed a man of character. But Mr. Pownceby was not fond of such publicity.

"Can I say a word to you alone?"

"No, sir, you cannot. If you have a message from my wife, say it. If not, lead on to No. 13."

"The fact is, Mr. Pratt, eh--Mrs. Pratt is not--eh--quite well."

"Is that so? I'm glad to hear it. It's a comfort to know that only sickness would keep her from her husband; though it wouldn't need much of that to keep her from a chance of seeing me."

"The fact is, I wish, Mr. Pratt, you would let me speak to you alone."

"No, sir, I will not. If she's dead, don't spare my feelings. If she has left me for a better man, don't spare my feelings either."

"The fact is, she's in a hypnotic state."

"In a what state?"

"A hypnotic state."

"What state's that?"

"'Hypnotic' 's a new word--it's been brought in lately--it means 'mesmeric.'"

Mr. Pratt paused before replying. He looked Mr. Pownceby up and down.

"Look here, Mr. ---- I think you mentioned Pownceby; I don't know who you are, but you seem a friendly kind of man. Take my advice and get something off your chest. I see you've got it on."

Mr. Pownceby smiled, rather faintly. He did not lack presence of mind, as a rule, though just then the situation was as much as he could manage. He made a dash at it.

"I wish you would give me half a minute alone; but, since you will not, I must try to tell my story where we are. You see this book?" Mr.

Pownceby held up the fatal treatise. "It contains instructions for the performance of mesmeric experiments. Mrs. Pratt insisted on my performing one of them on her. I succeeded in producing the mesmeric state, but I--I couldn't get her out of it."

There was a curious twinkle in Mr. Pratt's eyes.

"I don't catch on," he said.

"I say that I hypnotised her--that is, produced the mesmeric state, but that I--I couldn't get her out of it."

"Well?"

"She's in it now."