absolutely certain to come about as--well, the
transit of Venus."

"They knew of hypnotism, then?"

"Oh, dear, yes! They used it--for painless dentistry and things like
that! This blue stuff is confoundedly good: what is it?"

"Haven't the faintest idea," said Mwres, "but I admit it's very good.
Take some more."

The hypnotist repeated his praises, and there was an appreciative pause.

"Speaking of these historical romances," said Mwres, with an attempt at
an easy, off-hand manner, "brings me--ah--to the matter I--ah--had in
mind when I asked you--when I expressed a wish to see you." He paused
and took a deep breath.

The hypnotist turned an attentive eye upon him, and continued eating.

"The fact is," said Mwres, "I have a--in fact a--daughter. Well, you
know I have given her--ah--every educational advantage. Lectures--not a
solitary lecturer of ability in the world but she has had a telephone
direct, dancing, deportment, conversation, philosophy, art criticism ..."
He indicated catholic culture by a gesture of his hand. "I had intended
her to marry a very good friend of mine--Bindon of the Lighting
Commission--plain little man, you know, and a bit unpleasant in some of
his ways, but an excellent fellow really--an excellent fellow."

"Yes," said the hypnotist, "go on. How old is she?"

"Eighteen."

"A dangerous age. Well?"

"Well: it seems that she has been indulging in these historical
romances--excessively. Excessively. Even to the neglect of her
philosophy. Filled her mind with unutterable nonsense about soldiers who
fight--what is it?--Etruscans?"

"Egyptians."

"Egyptians--very probably. Hack about with swords and revolvers and
things--bloodshed galore--horrible!--and about young men on torpedo
catchers who blow up--Spaniards, I fancy--and all sorts of irregular
adventurers. And she has got it into her head that she must marry for
Love, and that poor little Bindon--"

"I've met similar cases," said the hypnotist. "Who is the other young
man?"

Mwres maintained an appearance of resigned calm. "You may well ask," he
said. "He is"--and his voice sank with shame--"a mere attendant upon the
stage on which the flying-machines from Paris alight. He has--as they
say in the romances--good looks. He is quite young and very eccentric.
Affects the antique--he can read and write! So can she. And instead of
communicating by telephone, like sensible people, they write and
deliver--what is it?"

"Notes?"