Next to Kennedy, I saw Gaines leaning far forward, looking now at his wife, now at the little group.  I followed his eyes.  To my surprise, I saw Marchant, his gaze riveted on Edith Gaines as if she had been the star performer in a play.  Evidently my chance request to Karatoff had been builded better than I knew.  I ran my gaze over the others.  Errol was no less engrossed than Marchant.  Quickly I glanced at Carita, wondering whether she might be gratified by the performance of a pupil.  Whether it was natural grace or real hypnotism in the “Hypnotic Whirl,” I was surprised to see on Carita’s face something that looked strangely akin to jealousy.  It was as though some other woman had usurped her prerogative.  She leaned over to speak to Errol with the easy familiarity of an old admirer.  I could not hear what was said and perhaps it was inconsequential.  In fact, it must have been the very inconsequentiality of his reply that piqued her.  He glanced at Marchant a moment, as if she had said something about him, then back at Edith Gaines.  On his part, Professor Gaines was growing more and more furious.

I had just about decided that the little drama in the audience was of far more importance and interest than even the dance, when the music ceased.  Karatoff approached, took Mrs. Gaines by the hand, led her back to the chair, and, at a word, she regained her normal consciousness.  As she rose, still in a daze it seemed, it was quite evident that she had no waking realization of what had happened, for she walked back and sat down beside her husband, quite as though nothing had happened.

As for me, I could not help wondering what had actually happened.  What did it all mean?  Had Mrs. Gaines expressed her own self—­or was it Karatoff—­or Marchant—­or Errol?  What was the part played by Carita Belleville?  Gaines did not betray anything to her, but their mutual attitude was eloquent.  There was something of which he disapproved and she knew it, some lack of harmony.  What was the cause?

As for Karatoff’s exhibition, it was all truly remarkable, whether in his therapeutics the man was a faker or not.

Karatoff seemed to realize that he had made a hit.  Without giving any one a chance to question him, he reached down quickly and picked up another of the papers, repeating the process through which he had gone before.

“Mr. Errol,” he summoned, placing the second folded paper on the table with the first.

Errol rose and went forward and Karatoff placed him in the chair as he had Mrs. Gaines.  There seemed to be no hesitation, at least on the part of Karatoff’s followers, to being hypnotized.

Whatever it was written on the paper, the writer had evidently not trusted to chance, as I had, but had told specifically what to do.

At the mute bidding of Karatoff Errol rose.  We watched breathlessly.  Deliberately he walked across the room to the table, and, to the astonishment of all save one, picked up a rubber dagger, one of those with which children play, which was lying in the miscellaneous pile on the table.  I had not noticed it, but some one’s keen eye had, and evidently it had suggested a melodramatic request.