The man stood before them, asleep on his feet, his body waving slowly like a feather suspended from a thread and gently wafted by a slight breeze.
The druggist and his two clerks came out, picked up the hypnotic, who was as stiff as a board; carried him into the drug-store, and laid him flat on his back in the show window.
Then the druggist unfolded a sheet, covered the body, tucked the covering close around the sleeper’s chalky face, and stepped across the store to the soda-fountain with an eye alert and a hand ready for trade.
“Remember, gents!” Professor Zodono exclaimed. “An educational and instructive show for men, women, and children—opera-house to-night at eight o’clock sharp—fifteen and twenty-five cents!”
Then, followed by his other assistant, the professor walked slowly up the street to the opera-house to dress the stage for his evening’s performance.
They were followed at a respectful distance by Conko Mukes.
The moment the two men had passed out of sight through the stage entrance in the alley by the Gaitskill store, Conko Mukes knocked on the door.
“Open up, Bill!” Zodono commanded. “I guess that is the nigger washwoman come after those curtains.”
When Conko Mukes entered, Zodono came forward.
“Have you come after the washing?” he asked.