Part 2

She stared at her bound and gagged son. If it hadn't been for that postcard and if she had gone for the book herself instead of sending James, this wouldn't have happened. As it was the book had turned him into a little monster.

Her own child! And she had thought that he was becoming such a fine upstanding young man of late! Had he hypnotized her into thinking that? Probably. Just as he had tried to hypnotize her again before. Let her untie his hands and he'd snap his fingers and in a moment her eyes would glaze....

She shuddered. She couldn't let him loose. But she couldn't leave him there like that either. You can't keep a child bound and gagged for the rest of his or your natural life. You can't do it for more than a few hours. Sooner or later, even if it were only to permit him to eat, she'd have to untie him and then....

She stared down at the book in her hands. How _had_ it got here? Had some irresponsible person in the year 2083 or so read it, just as James had done, and then gone around hypnotizing people at random? Perhaps he had hypnotized someone who could operate a time machine and the bewildered scientist had sent it backward in time.

She caught herself up short. Such speculations, to a practical woman like Carrie, were silly. The important thing was that here, before her, were a thousand pages of useful but dangerous information--how dangerous she could only guess. So far James had done little actual harm but let his resentment be aroused, let him want really to revenge himself on some one, and he'd be the most dangerous human being alive.

Her eyes ran down the list of chapters again. They seemed endless. _Hypnotism by Gesture_--_Hypnotism by Mechanical Means_--_Hypnotism by Autosuggestion_--_Posthypnotic Suggestion_--and finally a whose series on _Erasure_.

_Erasure_--that sounded interesting. What were you supposed to erase? There were different sub-headings--_Erasure of Susceptibility_--_Erasure of Specific Directives_--_General Erasure_.

She sat down and read with a concentration she had not shown in years.

Two hours later she thought she knew what to do. First she did what the book said was necessary to protect herself. Then she said, "James, look at me."

James looked and she began to erase. An hour later she decided he was safe and untied him.

Then she sat down and wrote Barbara a letter. She knew that after Barbara had read it through a few times, the first time in bewilderment, the second and third times with a feeling of obedience, she would follow her mother's instructions perfectly and end by burning the letter, just as she had burned the one James sent her.

Of those most directly affected that left only Bill. Reardon? He was all right, she thought. James had victimized him after reading no more than the first chapter or two. He hadn't yet read enough then to be really dangerous. But Bill....

She had a little talk with her husband directly after supper. It was short, it was simple, it was sweet. When she had ended Bill remembered nothing and felt fine. He _was_ fine.

There was one more chapter to apply, the one on _Autoerasure_. That required careful planning, carefully thought-out suggestions. When she had completed all she had ordered herself to do she threw the book into the furnace and watched it burn, stirring the fragments to make sure that it was completely consumed.

_All_ was forgotten. _All_ was fine. Nothing had ever happened.

A few weeks later there came a postcard. "Dear Madam," it read. "The book, _The Perfect Hostess_, by Wilhelmina Hoskins, which is charged to your card, is now two weeks overdue. Please return it at your earliest convenience. There is a charge of one cent for each day overdue."

What on earth were they talking about? Carrie wondered vaguely. She hadn't been to the library in months. "James," she called, "Did you ever get me a library book called _The Perfect Hostess_?"

"Gosh, no, Mom," said James.