Another was Cyril Errol, a man of leisure, well known also in the club world.  He had inherited an estate, small, perhaps, but ample to allow him to maintain appearances.  Errol impressed you as being one to whom the good things of the world appealed mightily, a hedonist, and, withal, very much attracted to and by the ladies.

It was fortunate that the serving of tea enabled us to look about and get our bearings.  In spite of the suppressed excitement and obvious restraint of the occasion, we were able to learn much over the tea-cups.

Errol seemed to vibrate between the group about Mrs. Gaines and that about Miss Belleville, welcome wherever he went, for he was what men commonly call a “good mixer.”  Marchant, on the other hand, was almost always to be found not far from Edith Gaines.  Perhaps it was the more brilliant conversation that attracted him, for it ran on many subjects, but it was difficult to explain it so to my satisfaction.  All of which I saw Gaines duly noting, not for the report he had to make to the Medical Society, but for his own information.  In fact, it was difficult to tell the precise degree of disapproval with which he regarded Karatoff, Errol, and Marchant, in turn, as he noted the intimacy of Edith Gaines with them.  I wished that we might observe them all when they did not know it, for I could not determine whether she was taking pleasure in piquing the professor or whether she was holding her admirers in leash in his presence.  At any rate, I felt I need lay no claim to clairvoyance to predict the nature of the report that Gaines would prepare.

The conversation was at its height when Karatoff detached himself from one of the groups and took a position in a corner of the room, alone.  Not a word was said by him, yet as if by magic the buzz of conversation ceased.  Karatoff looked about as though proud of the power of even his silence.  Whatever might be said of the man, at least his very presence seemed to command respect from his followers.

I had expected that he would make some reference to Gaines and ourselves and the purpose of the meeting, but he avoided the subject and, instead, chose to leap right into the middle of things.

“So that there can be no question about what I am able to do,” he began, “I wish each of you to write on a piece of paper what you would like to have me cause any one to do or say under hypnotism.  You will please fold the paper tightly, covering the writing.  I will read the paper to myself, still folded up, will hypnotize the subject, and will make the subject do whatever is desired.  That will be preliminary to what I have to say later about my powers in hypnotic therapeutics.”

Pieces of paper and little lead-pencils were distributed by an attendant and in the rustling silence that followed each cudgeled his brain for something that would put to the test the powers of Karatoff.

Thinking, I looked about the room.  Near the speaker stood a table on which lay a curious collection of games and books, musical instruments, and other things that might suggest actions to be performed in the test.  My eye wandered to a phonograph standing next the table.  Somehow, I could not get Mrs. Gaines and Carita Belleville out of my head.