“Now, Conko,” Zodono commanded. “Walk right up to Bill. Look straight into his eyes.”
Bill stood like a rag doll, or anything else you can think of which is spineless and helpless and non-resistant.
Conko walked up and glared into Bill’s listless, humid eyes like a monstrous, bloodthirsty gorilla eying a wax dummy. Bill did not see the negro, for unknown to Conko, the tall form of Zodono stood just behind him, and the professor’s eyes held the hypnotic as a snake charms a bird.
“Now,” Zodono commanded in sharp tones to the darky, “make a stroking motion before his face—slow—slow—slow. Now bring your will to bear upon his subconscious mind—that’s it. Sleep—sleep—sleep—ah!”
With a horrified expression upon his face, Conko stood staring at the face of the man before him. The hypnotic slowly teetered forward and backward, threatening with each swaying movement to lose his balance and tumble over.
“Catch him!” Zodono commanded sharply.
Conko sprang forward and eased the falling man to the floor.
“My Gawd!” a strange negro voice exclaimed. “Did anybody ever see de beat of dat?”
Professor Zodono wheeled and stared at the frightened face of a large, full-bosomed, golden-brown girl, whose long, straight, black hair clung around her face, by contrast making her octoroon complexion almost white. Her bold, black eyes were big with wonder and awe, and the hands clasped over her bosom were trembling.
“What do you want?” Zodono snapped.