"Very well. I shall want you to take my hand when I come in, and look steadily at the needle, concentrate all your thoughts on it. I, on the other hand, shall make my mind a perfect blank. Then your thoughts will gradually pass into my brain, and I shall feel myself as it were dragged in the direction of the needle."
"And I shall feel myself, as it were, dragged after you?" said Jack.
"Yes; you mustn't put any strain on my arm at all. Let me go just where I like, only will me to go in the right direction. Now then."
He took out his handkerchief, put it hastily back, and said: "First, I shall want to borrow a handkerchief or something."
Well, we blindfolded him, and led him out of the room. Then Muriel got a needle, which, after some discussion, was stuck into the back of the Chesterfield. Simms returned, and took Jack's left hand.
They stood there together, Jack frowning earnestly at the needle, and Simms swaying uncertainly at the knees. Suddenly his knees went in altogether, and he made a little zig-zag dash across the room, as though he were taking cover. Jack lumbered after him, instinctively bending his head too. They were brought up by the piano, which Simms struck with great force. We all laughed, and Jack apologised.
"You told me to let you go where you liked, you know," he said.
"Yes, yes," said Simms rather peevishly, "but you should have willed me not to hit the piano."
As he spoke he tripped over a small stool, and, flinging out an arm to save himself, swept two photograph frames off an occasional table.
"By Jove!" said Jack, "that's jolly good. I saw you were going to do that, and I willed that the flower vase should be spared. I'm getting on."