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.

"I say," he asked, lying where he had fallen, "what's this?"

Mr. Pownceby replied politely: "I hope I haven't hurt you?"

"You haven't hurt me--much. You've surprised me--more. I reckon we'll continue."

The proceedings recommenced. But this time Mr. Pratt had changed his tactics. Instead of coming up with the apparent intention of wiping his opponent off the face of the earth with a single blow, he played his game more cautiously. He fenced; but, becoming tired of this, and feeling possibly that the whipping was not proceeding fast enough, he led off with his right, and followed on with his left, and Mr. Pownceby countered and returned--returned with such effect that for half a minute Mr. Pratt was dancing about while Mr. Pownceby was performing on him much in the fashion which the regimental drummer beats to quarters on his drum.

"Time!" he cried.

The round was over. A pause ensued, during which his feelings were plainly too deep for words.

"Have you ever had a whipping before?" he asked.

Mr. Pownceby smiled; it was evident that his smile was a smile of enjoyment at last.

"One or two," he said.

"Like this?"

"Not exactly. In England we don't, as a rule, indulge in this form of amusement in the private sitting-room of an hotel."

"Don't you? Well, it's as well. I smelt that a big fight was coming, and it's come. I'm going to enjoy myself entirely. You've closed up one of my eyes, I should say, from the feel of it, for ever. You've broken the bridge of my nose; what there'll be to pay for the blood upon the carpet--there's a quart gone from me already--is more than I quite care to think. Before I've finished whipping you I reckon I'll be slain."

"Come, Mr. Pratt, don't you think this foolish business had better cease? If you require an apology I am willing to tender one in any form you like. What passed between your wife and myself was simply in the nature of a little scientific experiment."

"It'll be in the nature of a little scientific experiment what's going to pass between us too. I'm fond of experiments as well as you. Time!"

Mr. Pratt fell into position. He struck at Mr. Pownceby. Mr. Pownceby laughed as he warded off the blow.

"Come, Mr. Pratt, why will you persist in this absurdity?"

"I'm going to whip you, sir."

"In that case you really must excuse me for putting on the steam. If a waiter or someone were to come and find me engaged like this, I should never hear the last of it as long as I lived. Here goes!"

It went. He had been warding off Mr. Pratt's blows while he was speaking. When he ceased the battle really joined. Mr. Pratt's guards were nowhere. In spite of all that he could do to save himself, his antagonist proceeded to administer severe punishment in thoroughly workmanlike style. The blows rang out upon his head and body. Mr. Pownceby wound up with one under the chin which lifted him off his feet and laid him on his back. He lay where he fell. The blow had knocked him senseless. Mr. Pownceby proceeded to revive him with the remains of the champagne.

"This," he murmured, opening his eyes and looking up, "is nice."

Mr. Pownceby propped him up upon a chair.

"You compelled me to rush the thing; but I hope I haven't hurt you much."

"Well," said Mr. Pratt, "you haven't killed me--quite. I never enjoyed whipping a man so much before. Say, stranger, is this the first little fight you've had?"

"I've sparred for the amateur championship, and won it twice. I'm going in for it again next week."

"You might have mentioned that before the game began."

"If the inherent absurdity of your proposal could not deter you, I doubt if any information I might have imparted would have been of much avail."

"There's something in that. Time!"

Mr. Pratt rose from his chair. He stood on his feet--rather doubtfully.

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Pownceby.

"I'm going on whipping you."

"Look here, Mr. Pratt, each time you stand up I shall simply knock you down again. Of course you can go on with that sort of thing as long as you like."

"That is so; I can. And that's a sort of thing of which one doesn't care to get more than enough."

Mr. Pratt rested his hand on the back of a chair. It seemed as though, without some support of that kind, he could not stand. Mr. Pownceby advanced to him.

"Mr. Pratt, give me your hand."

Mr. Pratt gave it to him, it would seem, mechanically. The two men stood looking at each other in silence--the one almost without a scratch, the other a battered ruin. While they were so engaged the latch of the French window was opened from without, the blind was thrust aside, and a lady entered. It was Mrs. Pratt. When she saw what met her eyes she stared, which, as a breach of good manners, was, under the circumstances, excusable.

"Mr. Pownceby! Gilead! What have you been doing?"

"I've been whipping him," said Mr. Pratt. "I must be off my ordinary, for I never whipped a man that way before."

Mr. Pownceby slipped on his jacket. He helped Mr. Pratt to put on his.

"It's my fault, Mrs. Pratt. When I told your husband of our little experiment and that I found myself unable to release you from the hypnotic state which I had induced he thought I must have done you a serious injury, and that he naturally resented."

Mrs. Pratt looked at Mr. Pownceby. There was a twinkle of intelligence in her sweet blue eyes.

"I see. Miss Haseltine is looking for you. You'll find her in the drawing-room."

"Thank you," said Mr. Pownceby. "I--I'll go and look for her."

As he sneaked out of the room, with his shirt and waistcoat under his arm, devoutly hoping that no one might encounter him on his journey to his own apartment, he heard Mrs. Pratt make this remark to her husband--the first after two years absence:

"So, Gilead, you've been at it again."

He heard Mr. Pratt reply:

"I have. I was raised fighting, and I reckon that fighting I shall die. If I have to whip that Pownceby again it is a certainty I shall."

AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS.