“So far as I know, and I know all there is to know, I think. I was present at a preliminary test this morning, and I’ll tell you what he did.” Mortimer looked at his watch and proceeded quickly. “In at the Free Press office one of the men took a piece of chalk and drew a line from where we were to a distant room of the building. The line went up and down stairs, in and out of various rooms, over chairs and under desks, and finally wound up in a small closet in the city editor’s office. Well —and I must jump away now—that wizard, Hanlon, being securely blindfolded—I did it myself—followed that line, almost without deviation, from start to finish. Through a building he had never seers before, and groping along in complete darkness.”
“How in the world could he do it?” Aunt Abby asked, breathlessly.
“The chap who drew the line was behind him—behind, mind you—and he willed him where to go. Of course, he did his best, kept his mind on the job, and earnestly used his mentality to will Hanlon along. And did! There, that’s all I know, until this afternoon’s stunt is pulled off. But what I’ve told you, I do know—I saw it, and I, for one, am a complete convert to telepathy!”
The busy man, hastily shaking hands, bustled away, and Hendricks told in glee how, through his acquaintance with Mortimer, he had secured a permit to drive his car among the front ones that were following the performance, which was to begin very soon now.
Gus returned, and they were about to start when Aunt Abby set up a plea for a copy of the paper that she wanted.
Good-natured Gus tried his best, Hendricks himself made endeavors, but all in vain. The papers were gone, the edition exhausted. Nor could any one whom they asked be induced to part with his copy even at a substantial premium.
“Sorry, Miss Ames,” said Hendricks, “but we can’t seem to nail one. Perhaps later we can get one. Now we must be starting or we’ll soon lose our advantage.”
The crowd was like a rolling sea by this time, and only the efficiency of the fine police work kept anything like order.
Cautiously the motor car edged along while the daring pedestrians seemed to scramble from beneath the very wheels.
And then a cheer arose which proclaimed the presence of Hanlon, the mysterious possessor of second sight, or the marvelous reader of another’s mind—nobody knew exactly which he was.
Bowing in response to the mighty cheer that greeted his appearance, Hanlon stood, smiling at the crowd.
A young fellow he seemed to be, slender, well-knit and with a frank, winning face. But he evidently meant business, for he turned at once to Mr. Mortimer, and asked that the test be begun.
A few words from one of the staff of the newspaper that was backing the enterprise informed the audience that the day before there had been hidden in a distant part of the city a penknife, and that only the hider thereof and the Hon. Mr. Mortimer knew where the hiding place was.