He changed his rumpled attire and wandered despondently to the street. He found Ludwig's hotel at last; inquiry revealed that the diminutive professor had checked out, leaving no forwarding address.
What of it? Even Ludwig couldn't give what he sought, a living Galatea. Dan was glad that he had disappeared; he hated the little professor. Professor? Hypnotists called themselves "professors." He dragged through a weary day and then a sleepless night back to Chicago.
It was mid-winter when he saw a suggestively tiny figure ahead of him in the Loop. Ludwig! Yet what use to hail him? His cry was automatic. "Professor Ludwig!"
The elfin figure turned, recognized him, smiled. They stepped into the shelter of a building.
"I'm sorry about your machine, Professor. I'd be glad to pay for the damage."
"Ach, that was nothing—a cracked glass. But you—have you been ill? You look much the worse."
"It's nothing," said Dan. "Your show was marvelous, Professor—marvelous! I'd have told you so, but you were gone when it ended."
Ludwig shrugged. "I went to the lobby for a cigar. Five hours with a wax dummy, you know!"
"It was marvelous!" repeated Dan.
"So real?" smiled the other. "Only because you co-operated, then. It takes self-hypnosis."