"What do they want?" asked Brassfield.
"Why," said Alvord, "it's the policy of the office more'n anything else they want assurances on. I've sent for Fatty Pierson and his fellow members of the retail liquor dealers' association, and they'll be here by the time we dispose of this steak. I must be counted in on the dinner—I forgot mine."
While Alvord, greatly rejoiced at the sudden restoration of his friend to the possession of those qualities which made him so useful and reliable in all business projects, and promised so well for the future of Bellevale under his wise, conservative and liberal administration as mayor, was cozily discussing the dinner in the Turkish room at Tony's, awaiting the arrival of Mr. Fatty Pierson and his committee, there was a council of the hypnotic board of strategy at the Bellevale House. The board consisted of Judge Blodgett, Professor Blatherwick, and Madame le Claire. The matter under consideration was how to return Brassfield to his much-to-be-desired nihility: how to recover Amidon from his relapse into occultation.
"I can never forgive myself for allowing it!" cried Madame le Claire. "And yet, how could I help it? His clerk came running in with a telegram, or something of the sort, and Mr. Amidon rushed away with him. What would this man have thought and said, if I had subjected his employer to the treatment necessary to restore him—put him into the cataleptic state, and then into the normal, by passes and manipulations!"
"Just now," answered the judge, "when he seems to be doing the meteor act in local politics, such an occurrence in public might be misconstrued in non-hypnotic circles, and commented on. Passes and manipulations are not thoroughly understood in politics—except in a different sense! I guess you had to let him go. How to get him back, is the question. He's certainly off the map as Amidon: turned me down when I tried to get him up here, with the air of a bank president dealing with a check-raiser; and yet, the way he rose to the lure of getting evidence in this lawsuit of his shows that he's as sharp as ever in business. What's likely to be the result if he's allowed to go in this way, Professor?"
"Nopody gan say," said the professor. "He may go on as Brassfield for anodder fife years or more. He may vake up as Amidon to-morrow morning. Propoply he vill geep on intefinitely, aggumulating spondulix, and smashing hearts, unless ve gan pinch him some vay."
"Oh, we must get him back!" said Madame le Claire. "We must!"
"In te interests off science," said the professor, "id vould pe tesiraple to allow him to go on as Brassfield ant note results. Ve haf alreaty optained some faluaple data in the fact of his attempt to buy the destimony of our frient the chutche, and his gontemptuous treatment of me as a con man. He didn't seem to remember us at all. Should ve not allow de gase to go on a vile? Supliminally gonsidered, it vill be great stuff!"
"No!" exclaimed the judge. "It ain't safe. He'll be running for mayor, and doing a lot of things to make him trouble when he does come to. We've got to surround him somehow; and he's a wary bird."
"Anyway," said the professor, "I should like to opsairve the result of a meeting with Clara. In his short Brassfield states he saw her, ant her only. Vill he remember her clearly, or how? How vill dis mind of his coordinate te tisgonnected views of her, with te rest of his vorld? It ought to pe vorked out."