“Professor Dabroski, the greatest living hypnotist, will demonstrate his power before you this evening,” began the man, with a pompous gesture, “and to do this it will be necessary for him to secure a few ‘subjects,’ which will be picked out indiscriminately throughout the audience.”
Marion turned and looked at her companion inquiringly, and Mr. Ray hastened to explain the fraud contained in this statement.
“He has confederates scattered all about through the house,” he told her briefly, “but they’ll make believe that they don’t know him, just to fool the rest of us. Then he’ll take them on the stage and make them cut capers. Of course, some of them are genuinely mesmerized and some are not, but they all get paid for their part in the performance.”
“His power is genuine, I am sure,” said Marion softly. “It was surely a black art that deceived poor Dollie.”
Mr. Ray looked at her tenderly, and even pressed her hand in sympathy. To him she was the personification of all that was pure and noble.
Suddenly Marion started forward and bit her lip viciously, while she clenched his hand with a grip of iron.
A man had come upon the stage attired in full evening dress. He wore eye-glasses and was a blonde, but Marion knew instinctively that it was Mr. Lawson.
“Hush! Don’t make a sound—not yet!” warned Mr. Ray, under his breath.
Marion nodded her head, her eyes were riveted on the “professor.”
Almost like one in a trance, she watched what followed; the selection of “subjects” from the curious audience.