"Hypnotism can't begin to accomplish what Karatoff claims. He's a fake, Kennedy, a
fake."
Professor Leslie Gaines of the Department of Experimental Psychology at the university
paced excitedly up and down Craig's laboratory.
"There have been complaints to the County Medical Society," he went on, without
stopping, "and they have taken the case up and arranged a demonstration for this
afternoon. I've been delegated to attend it and report."
I fancied from his tone and manner that there was just a bit more than professional
excitement involved. We did not know Gaines intimately, though of course Kennedy
knew of him and he of Kennedy. Some years before, I recollected, he had married Miss
Edith Ashmore, whose family was quite prominent socially, and the marriage had
attracted a great deal of attention at the time, for she had been a student in one of his
courses when he was only an assistant professor.
"Who is Karatoff, anyhow?" asked Kennedy. "What is known about him?"
"Dr. Galen Karatoff--a Russian, I believe," returned Gaines. "He claims to be able to treat
disease by hypnotism-suggestion, he calls it, though it is really something more than that.
As nearly as I can make out it must almost amount to thought transference, telepathy, or
some such thing. Oh, he has a large following; in fact, some very well-known people in
the smart set are going to him. Why," he added, facing us, "Edith--my wife--has become
interested in his hypnotic clinics, as he calls them. I tell her it is more than half sham, but
she won't believe it."
Gaines paused and it was evident that he hesitated over asking something.
"When is the demonstration?" inquired Kennedy, with unconcealed interest.
The professor looked at his watch. "I'm going over there now; in fact, I'm just a bit late--
only, I happened to think of you and it occurred to me that perhaps if you could add
something to my report it might carry weight. Would you like to come with me? Really, I
should think that it might interest you."
So far Kennedy had said little besides asking a question or two. I knew the symptoms.
Gaines need not have hesitated or urged him. It was just the thing that appealed to him.
"How did Mrs. Gaines become interested in the thing?" queried Craig, a moment later,
outside, as we climbed into the car with the professor.
"Through an acquaintance who introduced her to Karatoff and the rest. Carita Belleville,
the dancer, you know?"
Kennedy glanced at me and I nodded that I had heard of her. It was only a few nights
before that I had seen Carita at one of the midnight revues, doing a dance which was
described as the "hypnotic whirl," a wild abandon of grace and motion. Carita Belleville
had burst like a meteor on the sky of the "Great White Way," blazing a gorgeous trail
among the fixed stars of that gay firmament. She had even been "taken up" by society, or
at least a certain coterie of it, had become much sought after to do exhibition dancing at
social affairs, and now was well known in the amusement notes of the newspapers and at
the fashionable restaurants. She had hosts of admirers and I had no doubt that Mrs.
Gaines might well have fallen under the spell of her popularity.
"What is Miss Belleville's interest in Karatoff?" pursued Craig, keenly.
Gaines shrugged his shoulders. "Notoriety, perhaps," he replied. "It is a peculiar group
that Karatoff has gathered about him, they tell me."
There was something unsatisfactory about the answer and I imagined that Gaines meant
purposely to leave it so as not to prejudice the case. Somehow, I felt that there must be
something risque in the doings of Karatoff and his "patients." At any rate, it was only
natural with anything that Carita Belleville was likely to be concerned with.
There was little time for further questions, for our destination was not far down the Drive
from the university, and the car pulled up before one of the new handsome and ornate
"studio apartments" up-town.
We followed Gaines into the building, and the hall-boy directed us to a suite on the first
floor.
A moment later we were admitted by Karatoff himself to what had become known as his
"hypnotic clinic," really a most artistically furnished studio.
Karatoff himself was a tall, dark-haired fellow, bearded, somewhat sallow. Every feature
of his remarkable face, however, was subordinate to a pair of wonderful, deep-set,
piercing eyes. Even as he spoke, greeting Gaines on the rather ticklish mission he had
come, and accepting us with a quick glance and nod, we could see instantly that he was,
indeed, a fascinating fellow, every inch a mystic.
His clinic, or, as I have said, studio, carried out well the impression of mysticism that one
derived from the strange personality who presided over it. There were only two or three
rooms in the apartment, one being the large room down the end of a very short hall to
which he conducted us. It was darkened, necessarily, since it was on the first floor of the
tall building, and the air seemed to be heavy with odors that suggested the Orient.
Altogether there was a cultivated dreaminess about it that was no less exotic because
studied. Doctor Karatoff paused at the door to introduce us, and we could see that we
were undergoing a close scrutiny from the party who were assembled there.
On a quaint stand tea was brewing and the whole assemblage had an atmosphere of
bohemian camaraderie which, with the professions of Karatoff, promised well that
Kennedy was not wasting time.
I watched particularly the exchange of greetings between Professor Gaines and Edith
Gaines, who was already there. Neither of them seemed to be perfectly at ease, though
they betrayed as little as they could. However, one could not help noticing that each was
watching the other, naturally.
Edith Gaines was a pretty little woman, petite, light of hair, dainty, the very type of
woman who craved for and thrived on attention. Here at least there seemed to be no lack
of it. There was only one other woman in the room who attracted the men equally, Carita
Belleville herself. Carita was indeed a stunning woman, tall, slender, dark, with a
wonderful pair of magnetic eyes.
As I watched, I could see that both women were quite friendly with Doctor Karatoff--
perhaps even rivals for his attentions. I saw Gaines watching Carita attentively, never in
the mean time failing for long to lose sight of Mrs. Gaines. Was he trying to estimate the
relative popularity of the two in this strange group? If so, I failed to see any approval of
either.
Introductions were now coming so fast that neither Kennedy nor I had much opportunity
except for the most cursory observation of the people. Among the men, however, I
noticed two especially who proved worth observation. One was Armand Marchant, well
known as a broker, not so much for his professional doings as for his other activities.
Though successful, he was better known as one of those who desert Wall Street promptly
at the hour of closing, to be found late in the afternoon at the tea dances up-town.
Another was Cyril Errol, a man of leisure, well known also in the club world. He had
inherited an estate, small, perhaps, but ample to allow him to maintain appearances. Errol
impressed you as being one to whom the good things of the world appealed mightily, a
hedonist, and, withal, very much attracted to and by the ladies.
It was fortunate that the serving of tea enabled us to look about and get our bearings. In
spite of the suppressed excitement and obvious restraint of the occasion, we were able to
learn much over the tea-cups.
Errol seemed to vibrate between the group about Mrs. Gaines and that about Miss
Belleville, welcome wherever he went, for he was what men commonly call a "good
mixer." Marchant, on the other hand, was almost always to be found not far from Edith
Gaines. Perhaps it was the more brilliant conversation that attracted him, for it ran on
many subjects, but it was difficult to explain it so to my satisfaction. All of which I saw
Gaines duly noting, not for the report he had to make to the Medical Society, but for his
own information. In fact, it was difficult to tell the precise degree of disapproval with
which he regarded Karatoff, Errol, and Marchant, in turn, as he noted the intimacy of
Edith Gaines with them. I wished that we might observe them all when they did not know
it, for I could not determine whether she was taking pleasure in piquing the professor or
whether she was holding her admirers in leash in his presence. At any rate, I felt I need
lay no claim to clairvoyance to predict the nature of the report that Gaines would prepare.
The conversation was at its height when Karatoff detached himself from one of the
groups and took a position in a corner of the room, alone. Not a word was said by him,
yet as if by magic the buzz of conversation ceased. Karatoff looked about as though
proud of the power of even his silence. Whatever might be said of the man, at least his
very presence seemed to command respect from his followers.
I had expected that he would make some reference to Gaines and ourselves and the
purpose of the meeting, but he avoided the subject and, instead, chose to leap right into
the middle of things.
"So that there can be no question about what I am able to do," he began, "I wish each of
you to write on a piece of paper what you would like to have me cause any one to do or
say under hypnotism. You will please fold the paper tightly, covering the writing. I will
read the paper to myself, still folded up, will hypnotize the subject, and will make the
subject do whatever is desired. That will be preliminary to what I have to say later about
my powers in hypnotic therapeutics."
Pieces of paper and little lead-pencils were distributed by an attendant and in the rustling
silence that followed each cudgeled his brain for something that would put to the test the
powers of Karatoff.
Thinking, I looked about the room. Near the speaker stood a table on which lay a curious
collection of games and books, musical instruments, and other things that might suggest
actions to be performed in the test. My eye wandered to a phonograph standing next the
table. Somehow, I could not get Mrs. Gaines and Carita Belleville out of my head.
Slowly I wrote, "Have Mrs. Gaines pick out a record, play it on the phonograph, then let
her do as she pleases."
Some moments elapsed while the others wrote. Apparently they were trying to devise
methods of testing Doctor Karatoff's mettle. Then the papers were collected and
deposited on the table beside him.
Apparently at random Karatoff picked out one of the folded papers, then, seemingly
without looking at it and certainly without unfolding it, as far as I could determine, he
held it up to his forehead.
It was an old trick, I knew. Perhaps he had palmed a sponge wet with alcohol or some
other liquid, had brushed it over the paper, making the writing visible through it, and
drying out rapidly so as to leave the paper opaque again long before any of us saw it a
second time. Or was he really exercising some occult power? At any rate, he read it, or
pretended to read it, at least.
"I am asked to hypnotize Mrs. Gaines," he announced, dropping the paper unconcernedly
on the table beside the other pile, as though this were mere child's play for his powers. It
was something of a shock to realize that it was my paper he had chanced to pick up first,
and I leaned forward eagerly, watching.
Mrs. Gaines rose and every eye was riveted on her as Karatoff placed her in an easy-chair
before him. There was an expectant silence, as Karatoff moved the chair so that she could
concentrate her attention only on a bright silver globe suspended from the ceiling. The
half-light, the heavy atmosphere, the quiet, assured manner of the chief actor in the scene,
all combined to make hypnotization as nearly possible as circumstances could. Karatoff
moved before her, passing his hands with a peculiar motion before her eyes. It seemed an
incredibly short time in which Edith Gaines yielded to the strange force which fascinated
the group.
"Quite susceptible," murmured Kennedy, beside me, engrossed in the operation.
"It is my test," I whispered back, and he nodded.
Slowly Edith Gaines rose from the chair, faced us with unseeing eyes, except as Karatoff
directed. Karatoff himself was a study. It seemed as if he had focused every ounce of his
faculties on the accomplishment of the task in hand. Slowly still the woman moved, as if
in a dream walk, over toward the phonograph, reached into the cabinet beneath it and
drew forth a book of records. Karatoff faced us, as if to assure us that at that point he had
resigned his control and was now letting her act for her subconscious self.
Her fingers passed over page after page until finally she stopped, drew forth the record,
placed it on the machine, wound it, then placed the record on the revolving disk.
My first surprise was quickly changed to gratification. She had picked out the music to
the "Hypnotic Whirl." I bent forward, more intent. What would she do next?
As she turned I could see, even in the dim light, a heightened color in her cheeks, as
though the excitement of the catchy music had infected her. A moment later she was
executing, and very creditably, too, an imitation of Carita herself in the Revue. What did
it mean? Was it that consciously or unconsciously she was taking the slender dancer as
her model? The skill and knowledge that she put into the dance showed plainly.
Next to Kennedy, I saw Gaines leaning far forward, looking now at his wife, now at the
little group. I followed his eyes. To my surprise, I saw Marchant, his gaze riveted on
Edith Gaines as if she had been the star performer in a play. Evidently my chance request
to Karatoff had been builded better than I knew. I ran my gaze over the others. Errol was
no less engrossed than Marchant. Quickly I glanced at Carita, wondering whether she
might be gratified by the performance of a pupil. Whether it was natural grace or real
hypnotism in the "Hypnotic Whirl," I was surprised to see on Carita's face something that
looked strangely akin to jealousy. It was as though some other woman had usurped her
prerogative. She leaned over to speak to Errol with the easy familiarity of an old admirer.
I could not hear what was said and perhaps it was inconsequential. In fact, it must have
been the very inconsequentiality of his reply that piqued her. He glanced at Marchant a
moment, as if she had said something about him, then back at Edith Gaines. On his part,
Professor Gaines was growing more and more furious.
I had just about decided that the little drama in the audience was of far more importance
and interest than even the dance, when the music ceased. Karatoff approached, took Mrs.
Gaines by the hand, led her back to the chair, and, at a word, she regained her normal
consciousness. As she rose, still in a daze it seemed, it was quite evident that she had no
waking realization of what had happened, for she walked back and sat down beside her
husband, quite as though nothing had happened.
As for me, I could not help wondering what had actually happened. What did it all mean?
Had Mrs. Gaines expressed her own self--or was it Karatoff--or Marchant--or Errol?
What was the part played by Carita Belleville? Gaines did not betray anything to her, but
their mutual attitude was eloquent. There was something of which he disapproved and
she knew it, some lack of harmony. What was the cause?
As for Karatoff's exhibition, it was all truly remarkable, whether in his therapeutics the
man was a faker or not.
Karatoff seemed to realize that he had made a hit. Without giving any one a chance to
question him, he reached down quickly and picked up another of the papers, repeating the
process through which he had gone before.
"Mr. Errol," he summoned, placing the second folded paper on the table with the first.
Errol rose and went forward and Karatoff placed him in the chair as he had Mrs. Gaines.
There seemed to be no hesitation, at least on the part of Karatoff's followers, to being
hypnotized.
Whatever it was written on the paper, the writer had evidently not trusted to chance, as I
had, but had told specifically what to do.
At the mute bidding of Karatoff Errol rose. We watched breathlessly. Deliberately he
walked across the room to the table, and, to the astonishment of all save one, picked up a
rubber dagger, one of those with which children play, which was lying in the
miscellaneous pile on the table. I had not noticed it, but some one's keen eye had, and
evidently it had suggested a melodramatic request.
Quickly Errol turned. If he had been a motion-picture actor, he could not have portrayed
better the similitude of hate that was written on his face. A few strides and he had
advanced toward our little audience, now keyed up to the highest pitch of excitement by
the extraordinary exhibition.
"Of course," remarked Karatoff, as at a word Errol paused, still poising the dagger, "you
know that under hypnotism in the psychological laboratory a patient has often struck at
his 'enemy' with a rubber dagger, going through all the motions of real passion. Now!"
No word was said by Karatoff to indicate to Errol what it was that he was to do. But a
gasp went up from some one as he took another step and it was evident that it was
Marchant whom he had singled out. For just a moment Errol poised the rubber dagger
over his "victim," as if gloating. It was dramatic, realistic. As Errol paused, Marchant
smiled at the rest of us, a sickly smile, I thought, as though he would have said that the
play was being carried too far.
Never for a moment did Errol take from him the menacing look. It was only a moment in
the play, yet it was so unexpected that it seemed ages. Then, swiftly, down came the
dagger on Marchant's left side just over the breast, the rubber point bending pliantly as it
descended.
A sharp cry escaped Marchant. I looked quickly. He had fallen forward, face down, on
the floor.
Edith Gaines screamed as we rushed to Marchant and turned him over. For the moment,
as Kennedy, Karatoff, and Gaines bent over him and endeavored to loosen his collar and
apply a restorative, consternation reigned in the little circle. I bent over, too, and looked
first at Marchant's flushed face, then at Kennedy. Marchant was dead!
There was not a mark on him, apparently. Only a moment before he had been one of us.
We could look at one another only in amazement, tinged with fear. Killed by a rubber
dagger? Was it possible?
"Call an ambulance--quick!" directed Kennedy to me, though I knew that he knew it was
of no use except as a matter of form.
We stood about the prostrate form, stunned. In a few moments the police would be there.
Instinctively we looked at Karatoff. Plainly he was nervous and overwrought now. His
voice shook as he brought Errol out of the trance, and Errol, dazed, uncomprehending,
struggled to take in the horribly unreal tragedy which greeted his return to consciousness.
"It--it was an accident," muttered Karatoff, eagerly trying to justify himself, though
trembling for once in his life. "Arteriosclerosis, perhaps, hardening of the arteries, some
weakness of the heart. I never--"
He cut the words short as Edith Gaines reeled and fell into her husband's arms. She
seemed completely prostrated by the shock. Or was it weakness following the high
mental tension of her own hypnotization? Together we endeavored to revive her, waiting
for the first flutter of her eyelids, which seemed an interminable time.
Errol in the mean time was pacing the floor like one in a, dream. Events had followed one
another so fast in the confusion that I had only an unrelated series of impressions. It was
not until a moment later that I realized the full import of the affair, when I saw Kennedy
standing near the table in the position Karatoff had assumed, a strange look of perplexity
on his face. Slowly I realized what was the cause. The papers on which were written the
requests for the exhibitions of Karatoff's skill were gone!
Whatever was done must be done quickly, and Kennedy looked about with a glance that
missed nothing. Before I could say a word about the papers he had crossed the room to
where Marchant had been standing in the little group about Edith Gaines as we entered.
On a side-table stood the teacup from which he had been sipping. With his back to the
rest, Kennedy drew from his breast pocket a little emergency case he carried containing a
few thin miniature glass tubes. Quickly he poured the few drops of the dregs of the tea
into one of the tubes, then into others tea from the other cups.
Again he looked at the face of Marchant as though trying to read in the horrified smile
that had petrified on it some mysterious secret hidden underneath. Slowly the question
was shaping in my mind, was it, as Karatoff would have us believe, an accident?
The clang of a bell outside threw us all into worse confusion, and a moment later, almost
together, a white-coated surgeon and a blue-coated policeman burst into the room. It
seemed almost no time, in the swirl of events, before the policeman was joined by a
detective assigned by the Central Office to that district.
"Well, doctor," demanded the detective as he entered, "what's the verdict?"
"Arteriosclerosis, I think," replied the young surgeon. "They tell me there was some kind
of hypnotic seance going on. One of them named Errol struck at him with a rubber
dagger, and--"
"Get out!" scoffed the Central Office man. "Killed by a rubber dagger! Say, what do you
think we are? What did you find when you entered, sergeant?"
The policeman handed the detective the rubber dagger which he had picked up, forgotten,
on the floor where Errol had dropped it when he came out from the hypnotization.
The detective took it gingerly and suspiciously, with a growl. "I'll have the point of this
analyzed. It may be--well--we won't say what may be. But I can tell you what is. You,
Doctor Karatoff, or whatever your name is, and you, Mr. Errol, are under arrest. It's a
good deal easier to take you now than it will be later. Then if you can get a judge to
release you, we'll at least know where you are."
"This is outrageous, preposterous!" stormed Karatoff.
"Can't help it," returned the officer, coolly.
"Why," exclaimed Carita Belleville, excitedly projecting herself before the two prisoners,
"it's ridiculous! Even the ambulance surgeon says it was arteriosclerosis, an accident. I--"
"Very well, madam," calmed the sergeant. "So much the better. They'll get out of our
hands that much quicker. Just at present it is my duty."
Errol was standing silent, his eyes averted from the hideous form on the floor, not by
word or action betraying a feeling. The police moved to the door.
Weak and trembling still from the triple shock she had received, Edith Gaines leaned
heavily on the arm of her husband, but it was, as nearly as I could make out, only for
physical support.
"I told you, Edith, it was a dangerous business," I heard him mutter. "Only I never
contemplated that they'd carry it this far. Now you see what such foolishness can lead to."
Weak though she was, she drew away and flashed a glance at him, resenting his man's "I-told-you-so" manner. The last I saw of them in the confusion was as they drove off in the
car, still unreconciled.
Kennedy seemed well contented, for the present at least, to allow the police a free hand
with Errol and Karatoff. As for me, Mrs. Gaines and Carita Belleville presented a
perplexing problem, but I said nothing, for he was hurrying back now to his laboratory.
At once he drew forth the little tube containing the few drops of tea and emptied a drop or
two into a beaker of freshly distilled water as carefully as if the tea had been some elixir
of life. As he was examining the contents of the beaker his face clouded with thought.
"Do you find anything?" I asked, eagerly.
Kennedy shook his head. "There's something wrong," he hazarded. "Perhaps it's only
fancy, but I am sure that there is something with a slight odor in the tea, something tea-like, but with a more bitter taste, something that would be nauseous if not concealed in
the tea. There's more than tannin and sugar here."
"Then you think that some one present placed something in the tea?" I inquired,
shuddering at the thought that we had run some unknown danger.
"I can't just say, without further investigation of this and the other samples I took."
"Still, you have eliminated that ridiculous dagger theory," I ventured.
"The police can never appreciate the part it played