With a slight bow, Hanlon stood motionless, ready to start.
The preliminaries had taken place on a platform, hastily built for the occasion, and now, with Mortimer behind him, Hanlon started down the steps to the street.
Reaching the pavement, he stood motionless for a few seconds and then, turning, walked toward Broad Street. Reaching it, he turned South, and walked along, at a fairly rapid gait. At the crossings he paused momentarily, sometimes as if uncertain which way to go, and again evidently assured of his direction.
The crowd surged about him, now impeding his progress and now almost pushing him along. He gave them no heed, but made his way here or there as he chose and Mortimer followed, always a few steps behind, but near enough to see that Hanlon was in no way interfered with by the throng.
Indeed, so anxious were the onlookers that fair play should obtain, the ones nearest to the performer served as a cordon of guards to keep his immediate surroundings cleared.
Hanlons actions, in all respects, were those that might be expected from a blindfolded man. He groped, sometimes with outstretched hands, again with arms folded or hands clasped and extended, but always with an expression, so far as his face could be seen, of earnest, concentrated endeavor to go the right way. Now and then he would half turn, as if impelled in one direction, and then hesitate, turn and march off the other way. One time, indeed, he went nearly half a block in a wrong street. Then he paused, groped, stumbled a little, and gradually returned to the vicinity of Mortimer, who had stood still at the corner. Apparently, Hanlon had no idea of his detour, for he went on in the right direction, and Mortimer, who was oblivious to all but his mission, followed interestedly.
One time Hanlon spoke to him. You are a fine guide, sir, he said. I seem impelled steadily, not in sudden thought waves, and I find my mind responds well to your will. If you will be so good as to keep the crowd away from us a little more carefully. I dont want you any nearer me, but if too many people are between us, it interferes somewhat with the transference of your guiding thought.
Do you want to hear my footsteps? asked Mortimer, thoughtfully.
That doesnt matter, Hanlon smiled. You are to follow me, sir, even if I go wrong. If I waited to hear you, that would be no test at all. Simply will me, and then follow, whether I am on the right track or not. But keep your mind on the goal, and look toward itif convenient. Of course, the looking toward it is no help to me, save as it serves to fix your mind more firmly on the matter.
And then Hanlon seemed to go more carefully. He stepped slowly, feeling with his foot for any curbstone, grating or irregularity in the pavement. And yet he failed in one instance to feel the edge of an open coalhole, and his right leg slipped down into it.
Some of the nearby watchers grabbed him, and pulled him back without his sustaining injury, for which he thanked them briefly and continued.
Several times some sceptical bystanders put themselves deliberately in front of the blindfolded man, to see if he would turn out for them.
On the contrary, Hanlon bumped into them, so innocently, that they were nearly thrown down.
He smiled good-naturedly, and said, All right, fellows; I dont mind, if you dont. And I dont blame you for wanting to make sure that Im not playing possum!
Of course, Hanlon carried no light cane, such as blind men use, to tap on the stones, so he helped himself by feeling the way along shop windows and area gates, judging thus, when he was nearing a cross street, and sometimes hesitating whether to cross or turn the corner.
After a half-hour of this sort of progress he found himself in a vacant lot near the edge of the city. There had been a building in the middle of the plot of ground, but it had been burned down and only a pile of blackened debris marked the place.
Reaching the corner of the streets that bounded the lot, Hanlon made no pause, but started on a straight diagonal toward the center of the lot. He stepped into a tangle of charred logs and ashes, but forged ahead unhesitatingly, though slowly, and picked his way by thrusting the toe of his shoe tentatively forward.
Mortimer, about three paces behind him, followed, unheeding the rubbish he stalked through, and very evidently absorbed in doing his part to its conclusion.
For the knife was hidden in the very center of the burned-down house. A bit of flooring was left, on which Hanlon climbed, Mortimer getting up on it also.
Hanlon walked slowly round in a circle, the floor being several yards square. Mortimer stepped behind him, gravely looking toward the hiding-place, and exerting all his mentality toward guiding Hanlon to it. At no time was he nearer than two feet, though once, making a quick turn, Hanlon nearly bumped into him. Finally, Hanlon, poking about in the ashes with his right foot, kicked against something. He picked it up and it proved to be only a bit of wire. But the next moment he struck something else, and, stooping, brought up triumphantly the hidden penknife, which he waved exultantly at the crowd.
Loud and long they cheered him. Cordially Mr. Mortimer grasped the hands of the hero, and it was with some difficulty that Alvord Hendricks restrained Miss Abby Ames from getting out of his car and rushing to congratulate the successful treasure-seeker.
Now, she exclaimed; no one can ever doubt the fact of telepathy after this! How else could that young man have done what he has done. Answer me that!
Its all a fake, asserted Hendricks, but Im ready to acknowledge I dont know how its done. Its the best game I ever saw put up, and Id like to know how he does it.
Seems to me, put in Eunice, a little dryly, one oughtnt to insist that it is a fake unless one has some notion, at least, of how it could be done. If the man could seecould even peepthere might be a chance for trickery. But with those thick cotton pads on his eyes and then covered with that big, thick, folded silk handkerchiefits really a muffle-theres no chance for his faking.
And if he could seeif his eyes were wide openhow would he know where to go? demanded Aunt Abby. That blindfolding is only so he cant see Mr. Mortimers face, if he turns round, and judge from its expression. And also, I daresay, to help him concentrate his mind, and not be diverted or distracted by the crowd and all.
All the same, I dont believe in it, and Hendricks shook his head obstinately. There is no such thing as telepathy, and this willing business has all been exposed years ago.
I remember, and Aunt Abby nodded; you mean that Bishop man and all that. But this affair it quite different. You dont believe Mr. Mortimer was a party to deceit, do you?
No, I dont. Mortimer is a judge and a most honest man, besides. He wouldnt stoop to trickery in a thing of this sort. But he has been himself deceived.
Then how was it done? cried Eunice, triumphantly; for no one else knew where the knife was hidden, except that newspaper man who hid it, and he was sincere, of course, or thered be no sense in the whole thing.
I know that. Yes, the newspaper people were hoodwinked, too.
Then what happened? Eunice persisted. Theres no possible explanation but telepathy. Is there, now?
I dont know of any, Hendricks was forced to admit. After the excitement blows over a little, Ill try to speak with Mortimer again. Id like to know his opinion.