"What! More of that foolishness! It never did any good."
"Not hypnotized this time—mesmerized. This gentleman thinks he can put you to sleep. If he succeeds, you will remember your past. Isn't it worth trying? Come, now; be sensible."
He looked at the professor doubtingly, and I also looked at him, noticing perhaps what the doctor did not—that he was trembling from head to foot, and that the muscles of his mouth twitched; but he pulled himself together and approached the patient.
"Yes, my poor fellow," he said, in his kindly voice, "it can be done. I have never failed. You will remember your former name and all your early life."
"I have studied this thing a little," answered Monson, "and I understand that it is done by suggestion to the subconscious mind."
"You are right. And as you seem to be a well-informed, intelligent man, it will be all the easier. Come over here, and sit down on the upturned pail."
He changed his seat, and the professor, warning us to perfect silence, made a few passes over the man's head and down before him.
"Sit up, now," he commanded, "and don't fall over." Monson stiffened straight, and the professor continued his passes until Monson's eyes took on a fixed expression. Then the mesmerist began twitching and pulling his patient's hair, sometimes gently, and again roughly. Then he took a chair, seated himself before Monson, as he had done in my case, and, taking his hands in his own, commanded him to stare at his eyes.
Monson obeyed, and, in a few moments, his eyelids drooped. Soon he was asleep. But the professor continued the passes and the occasional twitching of the hair for fully five minutes; then he stood up and stepped back. The sweat was running down his face, and he wiped it off with his handkerchief.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I have him in the somnambulistic stage, but it may be necessary to send him deeper. I will try. Monson, answer me," he commanded in a sharp voice.