“Probably only one of us will be entranced,” I said, “and if that is me you tell Mundey to stop me. You know how, don’t you, Mundey?”
Mundey rose to the occasion. “Certainly,” he said. “I can use the Red Karen teletantic thought transmission.”
“What is that?” asked the Pimple.
“Never you mind,” said I. “That’s a secret process I taught Mundey in Burma. Come on! Let’s get ready.” I stretched out my hands and the Cook bound them together with the cord we had brought for the purpose. Then he did the same for Mundey. These little things all count in instilling credulity.
“Now what to do?” asked the Pimple.
“Hush!” said Mundey. “Look at Jones! He’s going off! Don’t speak—for Heaven’s sake don’t speak to him.”
I went gradually off into a “trance.” It was hard acting in broad daylight, with the two eager treasure-hunters watching at close range. The fact that I had never seen anybody go off into a trance did not make it any easier. But I had big plans at stake.
At last, speaking in a slow, sleepy voice, I addressed an invisible person behind the Interpreter, looking through him as if he were not there. “What did you say?” I asked.
The Pimple twirled round, but of course saw nothing.
“What?” I repeated. “I—can’t—hear.”