We followed Gaines into the building, and the hall-boy directed us to a suite on the first floor.

A moment later we were admitted by Karatoff himself to what had become known as his “hypnotic clinic,” really a most artistically furnished studio.

Karatoff himself was a tall, dark-haired fellow, bearded, somewhat sallow.  Every feature of his remarkable face, however, was subordinate to a pair of wonderful, deep-set, piercing eyes.  Even as he spoke, greeting Gaines on the rather ticklish mission he had come, and accepting us with a quick glance and nod, we could see instantly that he was, indeed, a fascinating fellow, every inch a mystic.

His clinic, or, as I have said, studio, carried out well the impression of mysticism that one derived from the strange personality who presided over it.  There were only two or three rooms in the apartment, one being the large room down the end of a very short hall to which he conducted us.  It was darkened, necessarily, since it was on the first floor of the tall building, and the air seemed to be heavy with odors that suggested the Orient.  Altogether there was a cultivated dreaminess about it that was no less exotic because studied.  Doctor Karatoff paused at the door to introduce us, and we could see that we were undergoing a close scrutiny from the party who were assembled there.

On a quaint stand tea was brewing and the whole assemblage had an atmosphere of bohemian camaraderie which, with the professions of Karatoff, promised well that Kennedy was not wasting time.

I watched particularly the exchange of greetings between Professor Gaines and Edith Gaines, who was already there.  Neither of them seemed to be perfectly at ease, though they betrayed as little as they could.  However, one could not help noticing that each was watching the other, naturally.

Edith Gaines was a pretty little woman, petite, light of hair, dainty, the very type of woman who craved for and thrived on attention.  Here at least there seemed to be no lack of it.  There was only one other woman in the room who attracted the men equally, Carita Belleville herself.  Carita was indeed a stunning woman, tall, slender, dark, with a wonderful pair of magnetic eyes.

As I watched, I could see that both women were quite friendly with Doctor Karatoff—­perhaps even rivals for his attentions.  I saw Gaines watching Carita attentively, never in the mean time failing for long to lose sight of Mrs. Gaines.  Was he trying to estimate the relative popularity of the two in this strange group?  If so, I failed to see any approval of either.

Introductions were now coming so fast that neither Kennedy nor I had much opportunity except for the most cursory observation of the people.  Among the men, however, I noticed two especially who proved worth observation.  One was Armand Marchant, well known as a broker, not so much for his professional doings as for his other activities.  Though successful, he was better known as one of those who desert Wall Street promptly at the hour of closing, to be found late in the afternoon at the tea dances up-town.