Mavis Greenfield hesitated, said with a nervous little laugh, "I
suppose I did that. I added a green napkin after we started the
exercise." Her voice quavered for an instant. "I thought the image
looked neater that way." She looked appealingly at the students around
her. "This is really incredible, isn't it."
They gave her vague smiles. They were plainly still floating on a
cloud of collective achievement--if they hadn't created that sandwich,
there could have been nothing to see!
It seemed to Cavender that Dr. Ormond's face showed a flicker of
strain when he heard Mavis' explanation. But he couldn't be sure
because the expression--if it had been there--was smoothed away at
once. Ormond cleared his throat, said firmly and somewhat chidingly.
"No, not incredible, Mavis! Although--"
He turned on his smile. "My friends, I must admit that you _have_
surprised me! Very pleasantly, of course. But what happened here is
something I considered to be only a very remote possibility tonight.
You are truly more advanced than I'd realized.
"For note this. If even one of you had been lagging behind the others,
if there had been any unevenness in the concentration each gave to the
exercise tonight, this materialization simply could not have occurred!
And that fact forces me now to a very important decision."
He went over to the prop table, took the suitcase from it. "Mavis," he
said gravely, "you may put away these other devices. We will have no
further need for them in this group! Dexter, move the table to the
center of the room for me, please."
He waited while his instructions were hastily carried out, then laid
the suitcase on the table, drew up a chair and sat down. The buzz of
excited conversation among the students hushed. They stared at him in
anticipatory silence. It appeared that the evening's surprises were
not yet over--and they were ready for _anything_ now!
* * * * *
"There is a point," Dr. Ormond began in a solemn voice, riveting their
eager attention on him, "a point in the orderly advance towards Total
Insight at which further progress becomes greatly simplified and
accelerated, because the student has now developed the capability to
augment his personal efforts by the use of certain instruments."
Cavender thoughtfully reached inside his coat, brought out a cigarette
case, opened it and slowly put a cigarette to his lips. About to flick
on a lighter, he saw Ruben Jeffries watching him with an expression of
disapproval from across the aisle. Jeffries shook his head, indicated
the NO SMOKING sign on the wall. Cavender nodded, smiling a rueful
apology for his absent-mindedness, and returned the cigarette to its
case. He shoved his hands into his trousers pockets, slouched back in
the chair.
"I have told you," Ormond was saying, "that the contributions many of
you so generously made to the Institute were needed for and being
absorbed by vital research. Tonight I had intended to give you a first
inkling of what that research was accomplishing." He tapped the
suitcase on the table before him. "In there is an instrument of the
kind I have mentioned. The beneficial forces of the Cosmos are
harnessed by it, flow through it. And I believe I can say that my
efforts in recent months have produces the most effective such device
ever seen...."
"Dr. Al," Mrs. Folsom interrupted firmly, "I think you should let them
know how the instrument cured my heart condition."
Faces shifted toward her, then back to Dr. Al. The middle-aged
majority of the students pricked their ears. For each of them,
conscious of the years of increasingly uncertain health to come, Mrs.
Folsom's words contained a personal implication, one that hit home.
But in spite of the vindication of her claim to have seen a
materialized ham sandwich, they weren't quite ready to trust her about
this.
Dr. Ormond's face was grave.
"Eleanor," he said reprovingly, "that was letting the cat out of the
bag, wasn't it? I hadn't intended to discuss that part of the matter
just yet."
He hesitated, frowning, tapping the table top lightly with his
knuckles. Mrs. Folsom looked unabashed. She had produced another
sensation and knew it.
"Since it was mentioned," Ormond said with deliberation at last, "it
would be unfair not to tell you, at least in brief, the facts to which
Eleanor was alluding. Very well then--Eleanor has served during the
past several weeks as the subject of certain experiments connected
with this instrument. She reports that after her first use of it, her
periodically recurring heart problem ceased to trouble her."
Mrs. Folsom smiled, nodded vigorously. "I have not," she announced,
"had one single touch of pain or dizziness in all this time!"
"But one should, of course," Dr. Ormond added objectively, "hesitate
to use the word 'cure' under such circumstances."
In the front row someone asked, "Dr. Al, will the instrument heal ...
well, other physical conditions?"
Ormond looked at the speaker with dignity. "John, the instrument does,
and is supposed to do, one thing. Providing, as I've said, that the
student working with it has attained a certain minimum level of
Insight, it greatly accelerates his progress towards Total Insight.
Very greatly!
"Now, as I have implied before: as one approaches the goal of Total
Insight, the ailments and diseases which commonly afflict humanity
simply disappear. Unfortunately, I am not yet free to show you proof
for this, although I have the proof and believe it will not be long
before it can be revealed at least to the members of this group. For
this reason, I have preferred not to say too much on the point....
Yes, Reuben? You have a question?"
"Two questions, Dr. Al," Reuben Jeffries said. "First, is it your
opinion that our group has now reached the minimum level of Insight
that makes it possible to work with those instruments?"
Ormond nodded emphatically. "Yes, it has. After tonight's occurrence
there is no further question about that."
"Then," Jeffries said, "my second question is simply--_when do we
start?_"
There was laughter, a scattering of applause. Ormond smiled, said, "An
excellent question, Reuben! The answer is that a number of you will
start immediately.
"A limited quantity of the instruments--fifteen, I believe--are
available now on the premises, stored in my office. Within a few weeks
I will have enough on hand to supply as many of you as wish to speed
up their progress by this method. Since the group's contributions paid
my research expenses, I cannot in justice ask more from you
individually now than the actual cost in material and labor for each
instrument. The figure ... I have it somewhere ... oh, yes!" Ormond
pulled a notebook from his pocket, consulted it, looked up and said,
mildly, "Twelve hundred dollars will be adequate, I think."
Cavender's lips twitched sardonically. Three or four of the group
might have flinched inwardly at the price tag, but on the whole they
were simply too well heeled to give such a detail another thought.
Checkbooks were coming hurriedly into sight all around the lecture
room. Reuben Jeffries, unfolding his, announced, "Dr. Al, I'm taking
one of the fifteen."
Half the students turned indignantly to stare at him. "Now wait a
minute, Reuben!" someone said. "That isn't fair! It's obvious there
aren't enough to go around."
Jeffries smiled at him. "That's why I spoke up, Warren!" He appealed
to Ormond. "How about it, Dr. Al?"
Ormond observed judiciously, "It seems fair enough to me. Eleanor, of
course, is retaining the instrument with which she has been working.
As for the rest of you--first come, first served, you know! If others
would like to have Mavis put down their names...."
* * * * *
There was a brief hubbub as this suggestion was acted on. Mavis,
Dexter Jones and Perrie Rochelle then went to the office to get the
instruments, while Dr. Ormond consoled the students who had found
themselves left out. It would be merely a matter of days before the
new instruments began to come in ... and yes, they could leave their
checks in advance. When he suggested tactfully that financial
arrangements could be made if necessary, the less affluent also
brightened up.
Fifteen identical red alligator-hide suitcases appeared and were lined
up beside Ormond's table. He announced that a preliminary
demonstration with the instrument would be made as soon as those on
hand had been distributed. Mavis Greenfield, standing beside him,
began to read off the names she had taken down.
Reuben Jeffries was the fifth to come up to the table, hand Ormond his
check and receive a suitcase from the secretary. Then Cavender got
unhurriedly to his feet.
"Dr. Ormond," he said, loudly enough to center the attention of
everyone in the room on him, "may I have the floor for a moment?"
Ormond appeared surprised, then startled. His glance went up to Reuben
Jeffries, still standing stolidly beside him, and his face slowly
whitened.
"Why ... well, yes, Wally." His voice seemed unsteady. "What's on your
mind?"
Cavender faced the right side of the room and the questioning faces
turned towards him.
[Illustration]
"My name, as you know," he told the advanced students, "is Wallace
Cavender. What you haven't known so far is that I am a police
detective, rank of lieutenant, currently attached to the police force
of this city and in temporary charge of its bunco squad."
He shifted his gaze towards the front of the room. Ormond's eyes met
his for a moment, then dropped.
"Dr. Ormond," Cavender said, "you're under arrest. The immediate
charge, let's say, is practicing medicine without a license. Don't
worry about whether we can make it stick or not. We'll have three or
four others worked up by the time we get you downtown."
For a moment, there was a shocked, frozen stillness in the lecture
room. Dr. Ormond's hand began to move out quietly towards the checks
lying on the table before him. Reuben Jeffries' big hand got there
first.
"I'll take care of these for now, Dr. Al," Jeffries said with a
friendly smile. "The lieutenant thinks he wants them."
* * * * *
Not much more than thirty minutes later, Cavender unlocked the door to
Dr. Ormond's private office, went inside, leaving the door open behind
him, and sat down at Ormond's desk. He rubbed his aching eyes, yawned,
lit a cigarette, looked about in vain for an ashtray, finally emptied
a small dish of paper clips on the desk and placed the dish
conveniently close to him.
There had been an indignant uproar about Dr. Al's arrest for a while,
but it ended abruptly when uniformed policemen appeared in the two
exit doors and the sobering thought struck the students that any
publicity given the matter could make them look personally ridiculous
and do damage to their business and social standing.
Cavender had calmed their fears. It was conceivable, he said, that the
district attorney's office would wish to confer with some of them
privately, in connection with charges to be brought against William
Fitzgerald Grady--which, so far as the police had been able to
establish, was Dr. Ormond's real name. However, their association with
the Institute of Insight would not be made public, and any proceedings
would be carried out with the discretion that could be fully expected
by blameless citizens of their status in the community.
They were fortunate, Cavender went on, in another respect. Probably
none of them had been aware of just how much Grady had milked from the
group chiefly through quiet private contributions and donations during
the two years he was running the Institute. The sum came to better
than two hundred thousand dollars. Grady naturally had wasted none of
this in "research" and he was not a spendthrift in other ways.
Cavender was, therefore, happy to say that around two thirds of this
money was known to be still intact in various bank accounts, and that
it would be restored eventually to the generous but misled donors.
Dr. Al's ex-students were beginning to look both chastened and very
much relieved. Cavender briefly covered a few more points to eliminate
remaining doubts. He touched on Grady's early record as a confidence
man and blackmailer, mentioned the two terms he had spent in prison
and the fact that for the last eighteen years he had confined himself
to operations like the Institute of Insight where risks were less. The
profits, if anything, had been higher because Grady had learned that
it paid off, in the long run, to deal exclusively with wealthy
citizens and he was endowed with the kind of personality needed to
overcome the caution natural to that class. As for the unusual
experiences about which some of them might be now thinking, these,
Cavender concluded, should be considered in the light of the fact that
Grady had made his living at one time as a stage magician and
hypnotist, working effectively both with and without trained
accomplices.
The lecture had gone over very well, as he'd known it would. The
ex-students left for their homes, a subdued and shaken group, grateful
for having been rescued from an evil man's toils. Even Mrs. Folsom,
who had announced at one point that she believed she had a heart
attack coming on, recovered sufficiently to thank Cavender and assure
him that in future she would take her problems only to a reliable
physician.
* * * * *
Footsteps were coming down the short hall from the back of the
building. Then Reuben Jeffries' voice said, "Go into the office. The
lieutenant's waiting for you there."
Cavender stubbed out his cigarette as Dexter Jones, Perrie Rochelle
and Mavis Greenfield filed into the office. Jeffries closed the door
behind them from the hall and went off.
"Sit down," Cavender said, lighting a fresh cigarette.
They selected chairs and settled down stiffly, facing him. All three
looked anxious and pale; and Perrie's face was tear-stained.
Cavender said, "I suppose you've been wondering why I had Sergeant
Jeffries tell you three to stay behind."
Perrie began, her eyes and voice rather wild, "Mr. Cavender ...
Lieutenant Cavender...."
"Either will do," Cavender said.
"Mr. Cavender, I swear you're wrong! We didn't have anything to do
with Dr. Al's ... Mr. Grady's cheating those people! At least, I
didn't. I swear it!"
"I didn't say you had anything to do with it, Perrie," Cavender
remarked. "Personally I think none of you had anything to do with it.
Not voluntarily, at any rate."
He could almost feel them go limp with relief. He waited. After a
second or two, Perrie's eyes got the wild look back. "But...."
"Yes?" Cavender asked.
Perrie glanced at Dexter Jones, at Mavis.
"But then what _did_ happen?" she asked bewilderedly, of the other two
as much as of Cavender. "Mr. Cavender, I saw something appear on that
plate! I know it did. It was a sandwich. It looked perfectly natural.
I don't think it could have possibly been something Mr. Grady did with
mirrors. And how could it have had the paper napkin Mavis had just
been thinking about wrapped around it, unless...."
"Unless it actually was a materialization of a mental image you'd
created between you?" Cavender said. "Now settle back and relax,
Perrie. There's a more reasonable explanation for what happened
tonight than that."
He waited a moment, went on. "Grady's one real interest is money and
since none of you have any to speak of, his interest in you was that
you could help him get it. Perrie and Dexter showed some genuine
talent to start with, in the line of guessing what card somebody was
thinking about and the like. It's not too unusual an ability, and in
itself it wasn't too useful to Grady.
"But he worked on your interest in the subject. All the other
students, the paying students, had to lose was a sizable amount of
cash ... with the exception of Mrs. Folsom who's been the next thing
to a flip for years anyway. She was in danger. And you three stood a
good chance of letting Grady wreck your lives. I said he's a competent
hypnotist. He is. Also a completely ruthless one."
He looked at Mavis. "As far as I know, Mavis, you haven't ever
demonstrated that you have any interesting extrasensory talents like
Dexter's and Perrie's. Rather the contrary. Right?"
She nodded, her eyes huge.
"I've always tested negative. Way down negative. That's why I was
really rather shocked when that.... Of course, I've always been
fascinated by such things. And he insisted it would show up in me
sometime."
"And," Cavender said, "several times a week you had special little
training sessions with him, just as his two star pupils here did, to
help it show up. You were another perfect stooge, from Grady's point
of view. Well, what it amounts to is that Grady was preparing to make
his big final killing off this group before he disappeared from the
city. He would have collected close to thirty thousand dollars
tonight, and probably twice as much again within the next month or so
before any of the students began to suspect seriously that Dr. Al's
instruments could be the meaningless contraptions they are.
"You three have been hypnotically conditioned to a fare-you-well in
those little private sessions you've had with him. During the past
week you were set up for the role you were to play tonight. When you
got your cue--at a guess it was Mrs. Folsom's claim that she'd seen
the ham sandwich materialize--you started seeing, saying, acting, and
thinking exactly as you'd been told to see, say, act, and think.
There's no more mystery about it than that. And in my opinion you're
three extremely fortunate young people in that we were ready to move
in on Grady when we were."
* * * * *
There was silence for a moment. Then Perrie Rochelle said hesitantly,
"Then Mrs. Folsom...."
"Mrs. Folsom," Cavender said, "has also enjoyed the benefits of many
private sessions with Grady. She, of course, was additionally paying
very handsomely for them. Tonight, she reported seeing what she'd been
told to report seeing, to set off the hypnotic chain reaction."
"But," Perrie said, "she said her heart attacks stopped after she
started using the instrument. I really don't see how that could have
been just her imagination?"
"Very easily," Cavender said. "I've talked with her physician. Mrs.
Folsom belongs to a not uncommon type of people whose tickers are as
sound as yours or mine, but who are convinced they have a serious
heart ailment and can dish up symptoms impressive enough to fool
anyone but an informed professional. They can stop dishing them up
just as readily if they think they've been cured." He smiled faintly.
"You look as if you might be finally convinced, Perrie."