“Why, my dear,” I said, “I don't believe it would fetch them. I believe Ram Nad could put even a piece of your mind into his basket, and churn it to a harmless generality. I do indeed. Your play, Sadler.”
“Spank him,” murmured Sadler, sleepily.
“Ha! King Ogel! Hum! Why didn't we induce Ram Nad to generalise that king? Mightn't it have had a sort of—shall I say?—a refining effect, a deodourising effect? Well, maybe not. Spanking was, in his case, I should say, bracing, suggestive; as applied to a king, I admit its point. But, now, as applied to a patriarch, I should draw the line, I really should. Your turn, Susannah.”
Susannah sprang up and started across the deck toward Ram Nad. We watched her in silence, in expectation. She stood before him a moment conversing, then dragged the conical basket around in front of him, and of her own accord climbed into it. This was interesting. We all three arose and drew near them, while Ram Nad covered the opening with a corner of his loose garments, and fell to that familiar procedure resembling the motion by which, with fork or spoon, the energetic housewife blends and fuses the delicately organised egg into a yellow somewhat, an inorganic mess.
Wherein Ram Nad's skill or secret consisted, its scientific theory, I did not—I do not now—profess or expect to know. I call him an A1 magician, and pass the deal. Did it consist in hypnotic deception of the observer? I incline to that idea, on account of the element of gammon therein. Was it some unusual sleight of hand? Was it a knowledge and control of some occult but natural law? I have at times leaned to that hypothesis, only to return again either to gammon or the pleasant repose of a gaseous doubt. He appeared to be able on request, with any object not too large to go into his absorbent basket, there to dissolve the said object into nothing. You could look into the basket. You could feel with the hand. You could search Ram Nad's clothes, or comb his beard. You would come to the end of ultimate wisdom, and conclude to pass the deal. Then, on request, he would reproduce the object.
Susannah is not a large object; she is about the size of Mrs. Ulswater.
“You're sure she isn't taking any harm?” said Mrs. Ulswater, peering into the mysteriously empty basket. “What on earth did you do with her? Well, she's not there. Fetch her out.”
Ram Nad covered the opening, churned a bit, and then rolled up the whites of his eyes and concentrated his mind.
“Stuff!” said Mrs. Ulswater, “You're pretending.”
“Show not knowledge to a woman,” said Ram Nad, politely, “but indulgence.”