"You do!" he began gaspingly. "Yes——"
The slender fingers moved upward over his head, the commanding eyes held his, the other hand, as if for a caress, swept his eyes shut, and he lay back in the chair, inert as a corpse. Madame le Claire untwined his arms from her waist, and knelt on the floor before him, her hands clasped on his knees, her head pillowed in his senseless lap.
Their unseen auditors heard no more conversation, and the judge moved softly out to a place where he could see. Clara was sobbing as she groveled at the feet of the man she had obliterated, rescued and restored, and as she sobbed she pressed his hands to her lips. Judge Blodgett went back to the window, lifted it noisily and lowered it with a crash. Then he walked into the front room, and found Madame le Claire sitting in a chair across the room from her subject, smilingly and triumphantly regarding the result of the exercise of her mystic power.
"Is he all right?" queried the judge, looking at the inert form. Madame waved her hand at their prisoner, in answer.
"Cataleptic," said the professor, peering at him through his glasses. "Bulse feeble, preath imberceptible. Yes, he is reeled in."
"Well, give him the gaff," said Blodgett. "In other words, fetch him to."
Madame le Claire stretched vibrant hands toward the entranced man, and again uttered the sharp command, "Awake!"
Amidon smilingly opened his eyes, and looked about him.
"Where are the letters?" said he, looking about for those vexing communications, to find the meaning of which had been the object of the inquiry from which Alderson had drawn him with the telegram. "Did you note on them the information we wanted? Why, is it night? How long have you had me under the influence? Is anything the matter, Clara?"
"Not now," said Le Claire.