CHAPTER XII.

MARION DISCOVERS DOLLIE.

Once more Mr. Ray proved his noble character. Not by so much as a glance did he show that he noticed Marion’s changed appearance.

“Do I look very countrified and dowdy?” she asked, timidly, when he came for her that evening.

“You look as pretty as a peach,” was the young man’s answer. “There’s thousands of women who would gladly change places with you—they’d take your clothes if they could have your face and figure.”

Marion was so embarrassed that she could not answer for a minute.

“I am glad you are not ashamed of me,” she managed to say finally.

What Mr. Ray would have answered under other circumstances Marion could almost guess, but just then Bert Jackson came in and put a stop to further conversation of a confidential nature.

“Oh, I do hope I am right in my suspicions,” she said quickly, when they were on their way to the hall. “I do hope that Professor Dabroski will prove to be Mr. Lawson, for, while it is dreadful for my sister to be in the power of such a monster, still it will end the suspense which is almost killing me.”

“I hope so, too, for that reason,” was Mr. Ray’s answer. “It seems remarkable that you should have found him so soon. The fellow must be a fool to be so utterly reckless.”

“Oh, he knew my father would never attempt to rescue Dollie, and there was no one else. Why, he never even gave me a thought! I was only a little country girl; he did not dream that I would follow him!”

“Well, he didn’t read your character very well, that’s all I’ve got to say,” said Mr. Ray, laughing. “Why, my sister says you would go through fire and water for any one you loved! You have made a friend of her for life, my poor wronged sister!”

There were tears very near Mr. Ray’s lashes now, and it was Marion’s turn to play the comforter.

“Dear Miss Gray, I loved her almost as soon as I met her, but I must call her Miss Ray now—the other name was a disgrace to her.”

“That scoundrel who deceived her is about to pay the penalty for his sins,” said Mr. Ray, slowly. “My father is growing old, but he has lots of spunk left. Why, he has already given the fellow twenty-four hours to leave the country. If he stays, we shall make it hot for him, I can tell you, and as for Emile Vorse, the Chief of Police is after him. It seems that there is enough against him already to send him to prison!”

“He deserves it,” cried Marion, “the infamous wretch! No country girl is safe in a city like this so long as it is infested with such wolves in sheeps’ clothing.”

When Marion, Bert and Mr. Ray reached the dingy little theatre they found it nearly filled with a crowd of ordinary-looking people.

They went in at once and Marion selected a seat behind a post, so that she could keep her face continually in the shadow.

She realized that there was a chance of her being mistaken, for a bill board picture is not always over-accurate, and then, too, she admitted that there was something strange about the fancied resemblance.

“It was his general contour that convinced me, not his face,” she said, over and over. “Mr. Lawson was very dark, but Professor Dabroski is lighter.”

“That is easily done,” was Mr. Ray’s answer; “but you must be very certain in your identification. It would be an awful thing to accuse the wrong person.”

“I’ll be very careful,” was Marion’s answer, and then the curtain went up amid great applauding.

Marion’s nerves were so tense that she felt like screaming when her first glimpse of the stage showed it to be entirely empty.

The rough crowd in the theatre began jeering and whistling, and at last a man appeared upon the stage and walked directly to the footlights.

“Is that he?” asked Mr. Ray, in a trembling whisper.

Marion shook her head as she scrutinized the face and figure.

“Professor Dabroski, the greatest living hypnotist, will demonstrate his power before you this evening,” began the man, with a pompous gesture, “and to do this it will be necessary for him to secure a few ‘subjects,’ which will be picked out indiscriminately throughout the audience.”

Marion turned and looked at her companion inquiringly, and Mr. Ray hastened to explain the fraud contained in this statement.

“He has confederates scattered all about through the house,” he told her briefly, “but they’ll make believe that they don’t know him, just to fool the rest of us. Then he’ll take them on the stage and make them cut capers. Of course, some of them are genuinely mesmerized and some are not, but they all get paid for their part in the performance.”

“His power is genuine, I am sure,” said Marion softly. “It was surely a black art that deceived poor Dollie.”

Mr. Ray looked at her tenderly, and even pressed her hand in sympathy. To him she was the personification of all that was pure and noble.

Suddenly Marion started forward and bit her lip viciously, while she clenched his hand with a grip of iron.

A man had come upon the stage attired in full evening dress. He wore eye-glasses and was a blonde, but Marion knew instinctively that it was Mr. Lawson.

“Hush! Don’t make a sound—not yet!” warned Mr. Ray, under his breath.

Marion nodded her head, her eyes were riveted on the “professor.”

Almost like one in a trance, she watched what followed; the selection of “subjects” from the curious audience.

As the professor approached her chair, Marion drew back cautiously. While she would have given her all to see him closer, she was afraid herself of being detected.

“You are a shrewd one,” whispered her escort; “he did not even see you. Most women would have stared at him and attracted his attention.”

The brave girl smiled sadly as she leaned a little nearer.

“There is too much at stake,” she said shortly. “I must be more than cautious if I would save my poor sister.”

One after another of the “subjects” were “put to sleep” or led into semi-hypnotic conditions by the professor’s magic. They danced, sang, recited, in fact, did anything whatsoever that he wished. Not one seemed able to move a muscle unless he willed it.

The brave country girl’s heart grew heavy as she witnessed his power. Her brain seemed to reel under the full consciousness of Dollie’s danger.

Suddenly she felt a light touch on her arm from some one in the rear. She turned and saw a quiet-looking man leaning carelessly toward her.

“The detective from headquarters,” whispered Mr. Ray, in her ear.

Marion smiled and nodded, and the man moved a little nearer.

“You are sure it’s the chap?” he said, very softly.

“Certain,” was the girl’s low answer, “that is Mr. Lawson.”

The man moved away and was lost in the crowd, and just then Professor Dabroski advanced to the front of the stage and made an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, in that voice which Marion knew so well, “I have given you an exhibition of my power this evening which must prove conclusively to every one that I am what the bill boards call me, ‘The World’s Greatest Hypnotist.’ But before this exhibition is ended, I have one more proof to give you. I shall now produce a ‘subject’ whom you have not seen—a woman who will demonstrate the full extent of my skill, for she is absolutely unable to breathe unless I will it.”

There was a roar of applause as the professor finished, which was stilled as soon as he raised his hand for silence.

“This is what is usually termed a ‘cataleptic’ condition,” he said, “but you will see that I control it perfectly, which is more than can be done by any physician in creation.”

He moved to the rear of the stage and held out his hand, while Marion half rose in her seat, her eyes fixed and staring.

Suddenly from behind the scenes a woman advanced. She was dressed in white and looked like an angel.

As he led her down to the footlights the house was as still as the grave; then a shrill, sweet voice rang out like a bugle peal.

“Stop! stop! He must not do it! That is Dollie, my sister!”