What transports of fury he lived through there nobody else can know; what terrible visions of vengeance lit up his outraged intellect, what cold intervals of quivering hate, what stealthy schemes of reprisal, what awful retribution for young Mr. Yates were hatched in those dreadful moments, he alone could tell.  And as he never did tell, how can I know?

However, in about half an hour his expression of stony malignity changed to a smile so cunningly devilish that, as he caught sight of himself in the mirror, his corrugated countenance really startled him.

“I must smooth out—­smooth out!” he muttered.  “Smoothness does it!” And he rang for a servant and bade him seek out a certain Mr. Yates among the throng of young men who had been taking snapshots.

[Illustration]

XV

DRUSILLA

During Which Chapter Mr. Carr Sings and One of His Daughters Takes her Postgraduate

Mr. Yates came presently, ushered by Ferdinand, and looking extremely worried.  Mr. Carr received him in his private office with ominous urbanity.

“Mr. Yates,” he said, forcing a distorted smile, “I have rather abruptly decided to show you exactly how one of the Destyn-Carr instruments is supposed to work.  Would you kindly stand here—­close by this table?”

Mr. Yates, astounded, obeyed.

“Now,” said Mr. Carr, with a deeply creased smile, “here is the famous Destyn-Carr apparatus.  That’s quite right—­take a snapshot at it without my permission——­”

“I—­I thought——­”

“Quite right, my boy; I intend you shall know all about it.  You see it resembles the works of a watch....  Now, when I touch this spring the receiver opens and gathers in certain psychic waves which emanate from the subconscious personality of—­well, let us say you, for example!...  And now I touch this button.  You see that slender hairspring of Rosium uncurl and rise, trembling and waving about like a tentacle?”

Young Yates, notebook in hand, recovered himself sufficiently to nod.  Mr. Carr leered at him: 

“That tentacle,” he explained, “is now seeking some invisible, wireless, psychic current along which it is to transmit the accumulated psychic waves.  As soon as the wireless current finds the subconscious personality of the woman you are destined to love and marry some day——­”

“I?” exclaimed young Yates, horrified.

“Yes, you.  Why not?  Do you mind my trying it on you?”

“But I am already in love,” protested the young man, turning, as usual, a ready red.  “I don’t care to have you try it on me.  Suppose that machine should connect me with—­some other—­girl——­”

“It has!” cried Carr with a hideous laugh as a point of bluish-white fire tipped the tentacle for an instant.  “You’re tied fast to something feminine!  Probably a flossy typewriter—­or a burlesque actress—­somebody you’re fitted for, anyway!” He clapped on his monocle, and glared gleefully at the stupefied young man.