Kitabı oku: «Amusement Only», sayfa 10
HIS FIRST EXPERIMENT
CHAPTER I
THE LADY
Last winter George Pownceby spent some weeks at the Empire Hotel. One morning he was coming along the corridor leading from the smoking-room when he met Mrs. Pratt. The lady stopped.
"What is that you have in your hand?" she asked.
Mr. Pownceby had in his hand a slim pamphlet, in a green paper cover. He held it up.
"I've got it!"
"No?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, I say!"
These remarks are not given here as examples of English conversation, but with a view of presenting the reader with an accurate report of what was spoken. There was a pause. Then the lady said, with great solemnity: -
"You don't mean to say that it has actually come?"
"I do!" Mr. Pownceby held out the slim pamphlet at arm's length in front of him. He pointed at it with the index-finger of his other hand: "'How to Hypnotise. A Practical Treatise. Hints to Amateurs. With full instructions for marvellous experiments. Price 7d. post free, eight stamps.'"
"Oh, Mr. Pownceby, I am so sorry."
"Sorry, Mrs. Pratt! Why, it was, at your instigation I plunged to the extent of those eight stamps."
"But you don't understand; my husband's coming; I have to meet him at the station at 12.32." Mr. Pownceby stroked his moustache; there was not much, but he was fond of stroking what there was of it. Mrs. Pratt's husband had been rather a joke. People who winter in hotels are, as a rule, quite prepared to be epigrammatic at the expense of a pretty married woman whose husband is not in evidence. And Mrs. Pratt's husband had not been in evidence-as yet.
"I don't quite follow you." Mr. Pownceby spoke with a little malice. "Whence your sorrow? Because your husband is coming by the 12.32?"
"Don't you see, I want to be the first to be experimented on. I've been waiting for that book two days, and now it just comes when I can't stay. Don't' you think there's time? Come into my sitting-room."
They went into her sitting-room. When they were there, the lady again assailed the gentleman with the inquiry:
"Don't you think there's time?"
"It depends. I think you're going too fast. To commence with, I've been looking through the thing in the smoking-room, and I believe it's a swindle."
"A swindle! Oh, don't say that."
"It's nothing but a hash of old mesmeric tricks I've seen performed at country fairs."
"But doesn't it tell you how to do them?"
"It pretends to. It gives some ridiculous directions-but I don't believe they can be done that way."
"Try! – do! – on me!"
Mr. Pownceby laughed. Mrs. Pratt amused him; and not for the first time either.
"To begin with, we have to sit face to face and stare at each other for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour."
"Come along! Let's begin."
The lady brought forward a couple of chairs and they sat down on them, face to face; and very close together. Opening the pamphlet, Mr. Pownceby searched for further instructions.
"You're not staring at me," remarked the lady.
"Half a minute; I'm looking for what comes next."
"What does it say? Read it aloud."
"After I've stared at you long enough-It doesn't sound civil, does it?"
"Never mind the civility; go on!"
"'After I've stared at you long enough, you begin to feel queer. Then'" – Mr. Pownceby read from the pamphlet, "'Place the thumb of your left hand on the subject's forehead'-you're the subject-'just above the nose, and level with the eyebrows.'" Mrs. Pratt placed her pretty little hand above her pretty little nose to point out the exact spot denoted. Mr. Pownceby read on. "'This is the locality of the Phrenological Organ of Individuality.'"
"Is it?" said Mrs. Pratt in an awe-struck whisper. The reader continued:
"'Rest the ends of your fingers on the top of the subject's head. At the same time take hold of the left hand with your right hand, applying the inside part of your thumb to the middle of the palm of the hand.' I'm punctuating this," interpolated Mr. Pownceby, "as I go on. The man who printed it seems to have had a fount of type containing no other stops but commas. 'The object of this is for the operator to get in contact with two very important nerves that pass in the palm of the hand which are called Ulnar and Median nerves'-I don't know if that's true, or what it means, but it says so here-'with your left hand, still keeping the thumb on the forehead between the eyes, and the fingers resting on the subject's head, which must be inclined slightly back. Say, "Look into my eyes." After gazing in his eyes intently for a few seconds, say in a loud, clear, firm tone of voice, "Close your eyes quite tight." Let him remain a few seconds like this,'-and the trick is done. There's a lot more nonsense to follow, but when you've remained for a few seconds like that you're supposed to be mesmerised, or hypnotised, or whatever they call the thing."
"Really! It sounds quite simple."
"It does-simple folly."
"Hush! You shouldn't speak like that. Perhaps, if you don't believe, you mayn't succeed."
"It says something to that effect in these precious pages."
"Then try to believe. Let us begin."
They began. The lady was preternaturally solemn, but the gentleman was tortured by a desire to smile. He felt that the lady might resent his laughter. Under these circumstances the ten minutes' stare was trying. Mrs. Pratt had sweet blue eyes, which were large and round-the sort of eyes which the average man would not object to stare at for ten minutes or even longer. As the appointed space of time drew to a conclusion even Mr. Pownceby became reconciled to his lot. He placed his left thumb on the lady's forehead above her nose.
"Is that level with my eyebrows?" she inquired. He reproved her.
"I don't think you ought to speak. You destroy the connection."
Mrs. Pratt was dumb. Mr. Pownceby proceeded in accordance with the directions contained in the pamphlet. He rested the tips of his fingers on the top of the lady's head. He took hold of her left hand with his right. He applied the "inside part" of his thumb to the centre of her palm. He said to her:
"Look into my eyes."
She looked into his eyes, her head inclined a little backwards. This part of the proceedings was, so far as the gentleman was concerned, on the whole agreeable. He gazed fixedly into her pretty eyes. Then he added, in a "loud, clear, firm tone of voice":
"Close your eyes quite tight."
She closed her eyes. There was a pause for a few seconds. Remembering the instructions contained in the pamphlet, he proceeded another step:
"You cannot open your eyes," he said. "Your eyes are fast, quite fast."
The pamphlet had it, "Should the subject be very sensitive he will be unable to open them." Apparently the subject, though in this case feminine, was very sensitive. At least Mrs. Pratt kept her eyes shut fast. Mr. Pownceby was a little startled. He removed his touch from her brow and released her hand.
"Mrs. Pratt, are you hypnotised already?" Mrs. Pratt was silent. "Mrs. Pratt, you don't mean you're really hypnotised?" Still silence. He leant forward and stared at the lady, not in the same way he had done before, but quite as fixedly. "By Jove! I believe she is!" He got up from the chair. He glanced at the pamphlet. He wanted to know how to reverse the process-how to bring the lady to again.
"This is a pretty state of things! The thing is not such a swindle as I thought it was. But it's all nonsense. She can't be magnetised, or mesmerised, or hypnotised, or whatever it is. If she is, the thing's as easy as winking. If I'd only known it I'd have been mesmerising people since the days of childhood. Mrs. Pratt!"
But Mrs. Pratt was silent. If she was not "hypnotised," then she was in some condition which was equally curious. She sat back in her chair, with her face turned up to the ceiling, in a state of the most complete quiescence. Something in her appearance struck Mr. Pownceby as even unpleasantly odd. He recommenced searching down the page of the green covered pamphlet for the reversal process. It was beautifully simple.
"In order to release him," the pamphlet said-throughout the writer had taken it for granted that the "subject" would be masculine-"blow a sharp, cold wind from your mouth on his eyes, and say with authority, 'Now you can open them.' Repeat if necessary. It is important to recollect that a cold wind blown from the operator destroys the effect and demagnetises."
One could not but suspect that some subjects might not like this. But its simplicity was charming. If that was all that was necessary, then, so far as Mr. Pownceby was concerned, the whole science of hypnotism was already mastered.
He approached Mrs. Pratt. He bent over her, devoutly hoping that no one might enter the room as he was engaged in doing so. Quite a shock went through him as he advanced his face towards hers, the expression of her countenance was so very much like death. He blew a "cold wind" on her eyes-those pretty blue eyes, whose cerulean hue he had veiled.
"Now you can open them."
The words were spoken with as much "authority" as he could muster in the then agitated state of his mind; but Mrs. Pratt did not open them. The pamphlet said, "Repeat if necessary." Mr. Pownceby repeated. He blew, and he blew. He blew the "cold wind" all out of him, so that the beads of perspiration stood upon his brow, but still the "subject" gave no signs.
"Mrs. Pratt! Mrs. Pratt! I say, Mrs. Pratt, for heaven's sake do look at me!"
All signs of "authority" had gone from him now. But wind and voice alike were ineffectual. Apparently it was easier to hypnotise than to do the other thing. In his trouble Mr. Pownceby told himself that the writer of that pamphlet was-well, untrustworthy. Or else something had gone wrong in the working. But what could it be? He looked at his watch.
"Half-past twelve! I shall have her husband here directly. I imagine that he will make some observations if he finds his wife like this."
Such a contingency was only to be expected. When a man, after long absence from his wife, returns to find a stranger experimenting on her, and she in a "hypnotic" condition, from which the stranger cannot release her, his first feelings towards that stranger are not, in civilised countries, invariably friendly. Mr. Pownceby, when he had blown the "cold wind" all out of him, arrived at a resolution.
"I will tell Doris. I must get her to help me. It is quite certain that, whatever happens, I mustn't let that man come and find me alone with his wife."
It was only the dread of such a catastrophe that brought him to the "sticking-point" of his resolution. Miss Haseltine-christened Doris-was Mr. Pownceby's betrothed. She also was wintering in the hotel with her mamma. Mr. Pownceby was aware, even painfully aware, that the young lady's feelings towards Mrs. Pratt were not of the warmest possible kind. He was equally conscious that her impression was that his feelings were, if anything, too warm. He would rather anything had happened, almost, than that he should have been reduced to the necessity of acquainting Miss Haseltine with the situation he was in. But it was certainly impossible for him to allow the returning husband to come in and find him there, alone with his wife, and she apparently in a chronic hypnotic condition.
So he went in search of the young lady. Of course he found her where he would have least wished to find her-in the drawing-room with the ladies. He had to call her out, and at first she wouldn't come.
But as it would have been impossible for him to tell his tale in the presence of a dozen sharp-eared and sharp-tongued women, he protested that there was something of the utmost importance which he must say to her alone. "Well, what is it?" she asked, directly he had got her outside the door. He perceived that she was not in one of her sentimental moods. Perhaps something in his manner had roused her suspicions.
"Mrs. Pratt has fainted."
"Indeed? What has that to do with me? Let her faint. She looks to me as though she were the sort of person who could faint at pleasure."
"Doris, for goodness' sake hear me out; I want your help. It's through me she's fainted."
"Pray what do you mean?"
"It's-it's this confounded thing." Mr. Pownceby held out the slim, green-covered pamphlet. "You know I told you I'd written for that pamphlet, 'How to Hypnotise.' Well, the thing came this morning; here it is! I've been experimenting on her, and I've not only hypnotised her, but, by George, I can't get her round again."
"A pretty state of things, upon my word."
"Don't pitch into me now, Doris, don't. There she is in her sitting-room in a fit or something; I don't know what's the matter with her; and her husband's coming this morning."
"He is coming at last, is he?"
"I expect him every moment; he's due at 12.32."
"She seems to have told you all about it."
"She told me so much, at any rate. I know I've been an ass, I can see that now, but lend me a hand first, and let me have it afterwards. I was obliged to come to you. I couldn't let him find me alone with her in such a state as that. Come and see what you can do for her, there's a darling, do! After all, it's for me, you know, not her."
Miss Haseltine yielded so far as to advance with him along the corridor. There was a fresh arrival when they reached the hall-a gentleman. He was speaking to the young lady, who acted as book-keeper, through the office window.
"My name is Pratt-Gilead J. Pratt. I believe my wife is staying here."
Mr. Pownceby clutched Miss Haseltine's arm.
"It's he!" he whispered.
"There is a Mrs. Pratt staying here," replied the book-keeper. "Her sitting-room is No. 13."
The new arrival was about to be ushered into No. 13, when Mr. Pownceby interposed. He hurried across the hall and touched him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, may I speak to you? My name is Pownceby."
The new arrival turned and faced him. As he did so Mr. Pownceby perceived, a little dimly perhaps, what sort of a man he was. He was of medium height, slightly built, about forty years of age, very dark, with a clean-shaven face and a pair of keen black eyes, which looked at Mr. Pownceby as though they meant to pierce him.
"Delighted to hear you speak, or any man, even if his name's not Pownceby."
Directly the words were spoken Mr. Pownceby became conscious that the new arrival was an American.
"I believe you are Mr. Pratt-Mrs. Pratt's husband."
"I am-worse luck."
"Eh-she intended to meet you at 12.32."
"She did, did she? That's her all through. As she used to be. She never did get farther than intentions. It is about two years since I saw her, and I don't see her now. Have you a message to deliver? Does she desire that I should go away for another two years? If so, I'm willing."
As this was said out loud, without the slightest attempt at concealment, so that every word was audible, not only to Mr. Pownceby, to whom the remarks were addressed, but also to Miss Haseltine, and the book-keeper, and the porter, and the boots, and the waiter, and the chambermaid, and any other straggler who might happen to be within fifty yards or so, it would seem that in her husband Mrs. Pratt possessed a man of character. But Mr. Pownceby was not fond of such publicity.
"Can I say a word to you alone?"
"No, sir, you cannot. If you have a message from my wife, say it. If not, lead on to No. 13."
"The fact is, Mr. Pratt, eh-Mrs. Pratt is not-eh-quite well."
"Is that so? I'm glad to hear it. It's a comfort to know that only sickness would keep her from her husband; though it wouldn't need much of that to keep her from a chance of seeing me."
"The fact is, I wish, Mr. Pratt, you would let me speak to you alone."
"No, sir, I will not. If she's dead, don't spare my feelings. If she has left me for a better man, don't spare my feelings either."
"The fact is, she's in a hypnotic state."
"In a what state?"
"A hypnotic state."
"What state's that?"
"'Hypnotic' 's a new word-it's been brought in lately-it means 'mesmeric.'"
Mr. Pratt paused before replying. He looked Mr. Pownceby up and down.
"Look here, Mr. – I think you mentioned Pownceby; I don't know who you are, but you seem a friendly kind of man. Take my advice and get something off your chest. I see you've got it on."
Mr. Pownceby smiled, rather faintly. He did not lack presence of mind, as a rule, though just then the situation was as much as he could manage. He made a dash at it.
"I wish you would give me half a minute alone; but, since you will not, I must try to tell my story where we are. You see this book?" Mr. Pownceby held up the fatal treatise. "It contains instructions for the performance of mesmeric experiments. Mrs. Pratt insisted on my performing one of them on her. I succeeded in producing the mesmeric state, but I-I couldn't get her out of it."
There was a curious twinkle in Mr. Pratt's eyes.
"I don't catch on," he said.
"I say that I hypnotised her-that is, produced the mesmeric state, but that I-I couldn't get her out of it."
"Well?"
"She's in it now."
"In what?"
"The mesmeric state."
"Does she seem to like it?"
"That is more than I can say. I had just induced Miss Haseltine to come to my assistance when we were so fortunate as to encounter you."
"Then I am to understand that when she ought to have been at the depôt looking out for me, she was engaged in looking out for the mesmeric state along with you; is that so?"
"I'm afraid it is."
"Where is she?"
"In her sitting-room, No. 13."
"Lead on to No. 13."
The procession started. The waiter went first, Mr. Pratt next, and after him Miss Haseltine and Mr. Pownceby. Miss Haseltine's demeanour was severe. Either her severity or something else seemed to weigh upon her lover, who did not appear to be altogether at his ease. They reached No. 13. The waiter knocked. There was no reply. He knocked again; still no reply. Mr. Pratt turned towards Mr. Pownceby.
"I guess she's still in that state of yours. I think we'll all go in." He turned the handle of the door and entered. "I guess she's quitted."
The room was empty.
CHAPTER II
AND THE GENTLEMAN
It was undoubtedly the case, unless they were to suppose that she had hidden under the sofa, or behind the curtains. Mr. Pownceby looked about him, conscious of a slight feeling of bewilderment. There were the two chairs, exactly as he left them, but the one which Mrs. Pratt had occupied was vacant.
"It's very odd," he murmured.
"How?"
"She was certainly unconscious when I left her."
"Perhaps the knowledge that she was failing in her duty as a wife came to her in that mesmeric state; came to her so strongly that she started off to the depôt, just then and there, to look for me. If she's at the depôt now, in the state you say she was, I guess she'll soon be popular."
"Don't you think I'd better go and look for her?"
"I do not. If she's gone, she's gone, and if she comes back again she comes, but I'm not the man to put my friends out for a trifle. My friend, if you will allow me to call you so, give me your hand." Before Mr. Pownceby was quite aware of it, Mr. Pratt had possession of his hand. "I thank you. You have placed me under an obligation to you this day. But it may be that I shall cry you evens yet. Let's liquor. Perhaps the young lady will pool in?" Miss Haseltine, however, making some inaudible remark having reference to her mamma, vanished out of sight. Mr. Pratt was not at all abashed. He addressed the waiters. "Champagne-a large bottle-and a bucket of ice."
Mr. Pownceby protested.
"You are very kind, but I don't drink at this hour of the day, and only so-"
Mr. Pratt cut him short.
"Fetch the drink." The waiter fled. "If, after performing those pleasing experiments on the wife, you refuse to drink with the husband, I shall take it quite unkindly."
"But don't you think some inquiries ought to be made for Mrs. Pratt?"
"I do not. What I do think is that I ought to cultivate your friendship now that I have the chance. A man who knows the wife so well should know something of the husband too."
The drink came. Mr. Pratt saw two bumpers filled. Mr. Pownceby, who was an abstemious man, had a difficulty in escaping being compelled to drain his draught.
"Bring another bottle when I ring," said Mr. Pratt as the waiter left the room.
The two gentlemen were left alone. Mr. Pownceby still did not feel quite easy in his mind. Champagne generally disagreed with him at any time, always in the morning. He had some glimmerings of an idea that, if he refused to drink, Mr. Pratt would seek in his refusal an occasion to quarrel. He had heard and read of some curious customs in the States; how, for instance, to refuse, under certain circumstances, to drink with a citizen of the Great Republic was to place on him an insult which could only be wiped out by blood-blood in which six-shooters played a part. He half suspected that Mr. Pratt was a citizen like that. Certainly he was unlike any American he had seen. His indifference to his wife's fate was almost brutal. Mr. Pownceby felt this, but he also felt that it was impossible for him to insist on making inquiries if the husband declined to sanction them. Nor was his uneasiness lessened by Mr. Pratt's appearance of entire ease. That gentleman leaned back in his chair-the one his wife had occupied-his summer coat unbuttoned, his hat tilted on to the back of his head.
"So you hypnotised my wife?" Mr. Pownceby smiled faintly; the subject was beginning to be unpleasant. "Hypnotise me."
Mr. Pownceby started.
"I suppose you're joking?"
"Why? My wife had an inquiring mind, why shouldn't I have too? Perhaps you prefer trying those sort of experiments on wives rather than on their husbands."
Mr. Pownceby was not quite sure if this remark was intended disagreeably. It made him wince.
"Perhaps you think I have been trying these experiments all my life. Until this pamphlet was brought by this morning's post I knew no more about hypnotism than you do. My first experiment was tried, at her own urgent request, upon your wife."
"I take after her; I'm fond of experiments too. That book must be a treasure. Oblige me with a glance at it."
Mr. Pownceby handed it to him. Mr. Pratt began reading at the end.
"There's a nice little bit as a finish." Mr. Pratt read it aloud: "'In conclusion, I would earnestly ask all my readers to remember that this valuable science should not be abused, especially in the case of females, and that, in all cases when making experiments, they should have friends or other persons present.' That's sound advice. Did you notice it?"
"I-I think it caught my eye!"
Mr. Pownceby seemed a little fidgety. Mr. Pratt turned to the beginning.
"I see it mentions that the subject is to stare at the operator, and the operator is to stare at the subject, for about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour. Did you work the thing like that?"
"I followed, to the best of my ability, the instructions contained in the pamphlet."
"Did you stare at my wife?"
"It sounds uncivil, but I'm afraid I did."
"For ten minutes or a quarter of an hour?"
"About that."
"And did my wife stare at you?"
Mr. Pownceby laughed. He was conscious that Mr. Pratt's line of examination was tending to place him in a false position.
"I perceive you've marked this work with your pencil where it says, 'Place the thumb of your left hand on the subject's forehead, just above the nose, and level with the eyebrows.' Did you place the thumb of your left hand on my wife's forehead just above the nose, level with the eyebrows?"
"Really, Mr. Pratt, I can only say that, with the view of making a little experiment, I followed, to the best of my ability, the instructions generally."
"You seem to have seen the thing well through. It says that you've next to rest the ends of your fingers on the top of the subject's head. Did you rest the ends of your fingers on the top of my wife's head?"
"You may take it for granted that I did whatever the book directs."
"May I? That's kind. You increase my sense of obligation. Then you're to say to the subject, 'Look into my eyes.' Did you ask my wife to look into your eyes?"
"I did-certainly."
"Certainly. Of course. You're thorough-like the book. The man who put this book together had seen it done before. Then you're to say, 'Close your eyes quite tight.' Did you tell my wife to close her eyes quite tight?"
"I did. It was at that point that she went off into the hypnotic state."
"Was it now? This is really interesting. And what did you do next?"
"I tried to bring her to."
"Now, hark at that! And after all the trouble you had taken to send her off. And did she come?"
"I am sorry to say, as I have already explained to you, that my efforts were not attended with success."
"That was mean of her-real mean. And I suppose that, when you were performing these little experiments of yours upon my wife, this room was filled with a large assemblage?"
"We were alone together. I wish, now, it had been otherwise."
"Why?"
"After the questions you have already put to me, that needs no answer."
"Think not? Well, let me fill up your glass for you, Mr. Pownceby."
"I am obliged to you, but must beg you to excuse me."
"Is that so? You don't show yourself so friendly towards me as towards my wife. Perhaps, Mr. Pownceby, you're not aware that for the last two years I've been trotting round the world picking up the pieces to throw into her lap. She's English, and I'm American. She's not at all times fond of me, and we sometimes differ; but I love her, in my way. So you may think that when the first thing I hear, when I come to catch a sight of her after a two years' parting, is this little tale of yours, I find it a pleasing tale entirely. I find it that, I do assure you. Now, the only thing I should like you to do would be to play those little tricks on me which you played upon my wife. I should like to be hypnotised, uncommonly."
"If I were to attempt to do so I don't think that I should succeed. But, in any case, after my experience of this morning, it will be a long time before I make any more experiments on any one."
"Is that so? Think it over, Mr. Pownceby, while I lock this door and slip the key into my pocket."
Mr. Pratt locked the door and "slipped," as he called it, the key into his pocket.
"Mr. Pratt, I insist upon your unlocking that door."
"Mr. Pownceby, I was raised out West, and I was raised fighting, and I learnt to smell a fight when it was coming, and there's as big a fight now coming as ever I yet smelt."
"Why do you use this language, sir, to me?"
"It's my ignorance, may be. But in those parts where I was raised, when one man played upon another man's wife the tricks you've played on mine, it generally ended up in fighting. You bet it's going to end in fighting now." Mr. Pownceby made a movement towards the bell. Mr. Pratt sprang in front of him. "You can ring the bell, sir, afterwards; but first you'll listen to me. They'll have to break the door down to get into this room, and that'll be a scandal; and while they're breaking it down I'll be whipping you. You'd better, take it fighting. I've got a shooter." Putting his hand to his pistol-pocket, Mr. Pratt flashed the barrel of a revolver in Mr. Pownceby's face. "But I know your English notions, and I don't want to use it in a little affair like this. Let's strip to the waist, and clear the furniture out of the middle of the room, and have a little prize-fight all to ourselves."
"Do you take me for a madman, Mr. Pratt? If you don't immediately unlock the door I shall summon assistance, and if you use any violence towards me, I shall give you into the charge of the police."
"Is that your line? That's mine!"
Dropping the hand which held the revolver, Mr. Pratt delivered with his left. Delivered so neatly, in the centre of Mr. Pownceby's forehead, that that gentleman was hurled backwards on to the floor.
"If you like you can take it lying down, and you can summon assistance while you are taking it; but you'll take it somehow-that you bet."
Mr. Pownceby, lying on the floor, looked up at Mr. Pratt standing over him.
"Let me get up." He got up. The blow had cut the skin, and the blood was trickling through. With his handkerchief he staunched the flow. "In America, Mr. Pratt, they may think the sort of thing that you propose heroic. In England they consider a row of any sort ridiculous."
"Consider! It isn't what they consider I'm thinking of, it's how you're going to take it."
Mr. Pownceby fixed his glance on Mr. Pratt's keen black eyes. He smiled.
"Take it? I'll take it fighting, like the converter of Colonel Quagg!"
"I thought you would. I smelt it coming on."
As he spoke Mr. Pratt placed his revolver on the mantelshelf. Mr. Pownceby was still smiling.
"Do you propose to settle it now?"
"I do. I propose to settle it before you leave this room."
"In that case don't you think we'd better pull the blind down, or people walking on the terrace will be able to see the fun? If we are going to make asses of ourselves, we may as well do it, as far as possible, in private."
Mr. Pratt pulled the blind down. The sun was shining outside. The room was still quite light.
"I guess," said Mr. Pratt, "we had better clear the furniture out of the middle of the room."
Mr. Pownceby assisted him in doing so, what little there was to clear. The bottle of champagne and the two glasses they placed with the revolver on the mantelshelf. They then proceeded to strip. As they were doing so Mr. Pownceby asked a question.
"How shall we manage about time?"
"We will call time when we feel we want it. You understand, this is not only a fight; it's a whipping. I'm whipping you."
Mr. Pownceby smiled as he answered: "I understand exactly."
When they were in position there was not much, so far as appearance went, for a lover of the "fancy" to choose between the two. Now that they were peeled, both seemed thoroughly fit-as fit almost as though they had been trained. Mr. Pownceby was fair, Mr. Pratt was dark; that was about the only difference. Both would have turned the scale at something near eleven stone, and both measured something under five foot eight. Nor did it take long to show that both could use their hands. There was none of that waiting for each other which so often tries the patience of the spectators round a ring. Mr. Pratt came at once to business; with, perhaps, rather too much self-confidence. He was apparently under the impression that it was going to be a case of whipping his opponent from the first; which was the reason, doubtless, that Mr. Pownceby succeeded in returning the compliment which had been paid himself, and landing Mr. Pratt upon his back. That gentleman seemed surprised.
