‘Simplest thing to work in the world,’ said Maitland.  ’A lot of nonsense, however, that the public believes in can’t be done.  The woman could not sit down in St. John’s Wood, and “will” Tommy to come to her if he was in the next room.  At least she might “will” till she was black in the face, and he would know nothing about it.  But she can put him to sleep, and make him say what he does not want to say, in answer to questions, afterwards, when he is awake.’

‘You’re sure of it?’

‘It is as certain as anything in the world up to a certain point.’

’The girl said something that the boy did not say, more gushing, about his dead mother.’

‘The hypnotised subject often draws a line somewhere.’

‘The woman must be a fiend,’ said Merton.

‘Some of them are, now and then,’ said the author of Clinical Psychology.

* * * * *

Miss Blossom’s cab, the driver much encouraged by Tommy, who conversed with him through the trap in the roof, dashed up to the door of a house close to Lord’s.  The horse was going fast, and nearly cannoned into another cab-horse, also going fast, which was almost thrown on its haunches by the driver.  Inside the other hansom was a tall man with a pale face under the tan, who was nervously gnawing his moustache.  Miss Blossom saw him, Tommy saw him, and cried ‘Father!’ Half-hidden behind a blind of the house Miss Blossom beheld a woman’s face, expectant.  Clearly she was Miss Limmer.  All the while that they were driving Miss Blossom’s wits had been at work to construct a story to account for the absence and return of the children.  Now, by a flash of invention, she called to her cabman, ‘Drive on—­fast!’ Major Apsley saw his lost children with their arms round the neck of a wonderfully pretty girl; the pretty girl waved her parasol to him with a smile, beckoning forwards; the children waved their arms, calling out ‘A race! a race!’

What could a puzzled parent do but bid his cabman follow like the wind?  Miss Blossom’s cab flew past Lord’s, dived into Regent’s Park, leading by two lengths; reached the Zoological Gardens, and there its crew alighted, demurely waiting for the Major.  He leaped from his hansom, and taking off his hat, strode up to Miss Blossom, as if he were leading a charge.  The children captured him by the legs.  ’What does this mean, Madam?  What are you doing with my children?  Who are you?’

‘She’s None-so-pretty,’ said Tommy, by way of introduction.

Miss Blossom bowed with grace, and raising her head, shot two violet rays into the eyes of the Major, which were of a bistre hue.  But they accepted the message, like a receiver in wireless telegraphy.  No man, let be a Major, could have resisted None-so-pretty at that moment.  ’Come into the gardens,’ she said, and led the way.  ’You would like a ride on the elephant, Tommy?’ she asked Master Apsley.  ‘And you, Batsy?’