"FOR THE SAKE OF HAIDEE!"
Motor Matt knew something about hypnotism, having acquired the
knowledge in the casual way most boys learn about such occult and, at
times, fascinating subjects.
The young motorist knew, for instance, that if it was suggested to
Margaret Manners often enough in a hypnotic state that she was only
Haidee, the girl would come to forget her own personality. Even when
out of the trance she would be confused and bewildered in trying to
recall her real name and her past life.
It was to undo some of this evil that Matt was eager for a talk with
the Hindoo.
"Ben Ali," said Matt sternly, "we have the box of letters and Captain
Manners' Victoria Cross. In order to make you suffer terribly for what
you have done, we have only to turn you over to the authorities and let
them cable to London. There is a thousand pounds sterling offered as a
reward for the recovery of Margaret Manners; and for you there would be
a long term in prison. You understand that, don't you?"
There was a crafty look on the Hindoo's face as he answered.
"Yes, sahib. But you not do anything with me. De girl is in de trance.
I have her in my power."
"And we have you in our power," said Matt, appreciating to the full the
strong hold Ben Ali had on them, as well as on the girl.
"But, by and by, when we have finished de talk, de young sahib will let
me go."
Matt was deeply thoughtful for a few moments.
"Yes," he answered deliberately, "if you will answer my questions, and
do what I tell you to do, we will let you go."
"Pard!" remonstrated Joe.
"I know what I am doing, Joe," returned Matt.
"De young sahib is wise," put in the smiling Ben Ali, his eyes
beginning to gleam and dance in an attempt to get the king of the motor
boys under their influence.
"Pah!" murmured Matt disgustedly. "You can hold his arm with one hand,
Joe. Place the other hand over his eyes."
"He's a fiend," growled McGlory, as his palm dropped over the upper
part of Ben Ali's face.
The Hindoo laughed noiselessly.
"Will you talk with me frankly and answer my questions, Ben Ali,"
proceeded Matt, "providing we promise to let you go?"
"Yes, sahib."
"Then, first, who are you?"
"De brother of a great rajah in my own land, and de brother of de great
rajah's sister. That sister married de Captain Manners, Margaret's
father."
"I see," breathed Matt, his eyes wandering to the girl.
Haidee had grown quiet, her face expressionless and her eyes staring
and vacant, as before.
"I, with my rich rajah brother," continued Ben Ali, with bitterness,
"was only de driver of his elephants. No more. I work. He live in
luxury and do not anything. Captain Manners die. Then his wife, she
die, too. _Suttee._ She burn on de funeral pyre, as our custom is in my
land. De husband die, then de widow die. Margaret she live. My brother,
de rajah, give me money, send me to Calcutta after Margaret. I go. I
get de girl and we take ship to America. Hah! On de way I tell Margaret
it is her uncle, de rajah's wish, that she go to de Vassar school in
America, that I follow order when I take her there. She believe what I
say. On de steamer I begin de trances. She not like them, but she agree
at first. By and by she not able to help herself. I tell her she not
remember who she is when she wake, that she only Haidee. She b'leeve."
The scoundrel laughed. "I have de so great power with the eyes and the
hands, sahib."
"Why did you join a show and take the girl with you?" demanded Matt, a
feeling of horror and repulsion for Ben Ali growing in his heart.
"I have to live, sahib. My money give out. I know how to drive de
elephant, so I hear of de show and go there. Boss Burton hire me. I
speak of Haidee. He hire her, too."
"Did she know how to perform on the trapeze--she, the niece of a
powerful rajah and daughter of an English gentleman?"
"She know not anything about that. I put her in de trance and tell her
she know. Then she perform on de trapeze better than any."
"Why did you want her to go up on the flying machine?"
"Cut it short," growled McGlory huskily. "I feel like using the knife
on the villain, pard. He ain't fit to live."
"You listened to me while I was talking with my friends in the calliope
tent this morning," continued Matt. "Why was that?"
"I was afraid of de Dutch boy," answered Ben Ali, "and I was more
afraid when I hear what he tell. After that, I be afraid of all of you.
You understan'? I thought you take Haidee away from me."
"You hypnotized her before the parade and told her to do something to
make me trouble?"
"Yes, sahib," was the prompt response. "I wanted you out of de way. I
was afraid."
"Scoundrel!" muttered Matt. "Why, you placed Haidee herself in danger."
"I was Rajah's mahout. I could have kept de elephant from hurting
Haidee."
"Was she hypnotized when she came to the aëroplane and played that
trick to go up in the machine with me?"
"She was, yes, sahib."
"And you gave her something to be used in setting the aëroplane afire?"
"Yes, sahib. It was de smouldering fire ball, with de coal in its
heart. When de machine go up, and de win' fan it, den by and by it
break into flame and set fire to de machine."
Ben Ali was frank, brutally frank. But he had Motor Matt's promise that
he should go free, and he seemed to gloat over his evil deeds and to
wish that not a detail be left out.
"She did not act, when she was in the aëroplane, as she did when she
was in the parade," said Matt.
"I make her act different, sahib. I tell her how she was to be. I have
de so great power I do that. Other fakirs not so great as Ben Ali."
"We've heard enough," said Matt. "Now, as yet, you have only partly
earned your freedom, Ben Ali. You have still to do what I shall tell
you."
"What is that, sahib?"
"You will, by the aid of hypnotism, undo all the evil you have done,
as much as possible. For instance, you will impress on Haidee, as she
stands there, the truth that she is Margaret Manners, and that she will
remember it, and all her past, when she wakes. After that, you are to
waken her and take yourself off."
"Yes," answered the Hindoo. "My freedom is dear to me. Perhaps"--and he
smiled--"I have something yet to do with Motor Matt."
"If you cross my path again, Ben Ali," returned the king of the motor
boys, "there will be no promise binding me to let you go free. If you
are wise, you will stay away from me and my friends, and from Haidee."
"I take my chance, if that is it. To awaken Haidee I must be on my
feet."
"You will lie as you are!" declared Matt sharply. "You can do your work
as well this way as in any other."
"I will try," said the Hindoo, after a moment's pause. Then, in a loud
voice, he called: "Haidee!"
The girl turned her eyes upon him.
"Yes," she answered.
"When you wake, _meetoowah_, you will remember that you are Margaret
Manners."
"Yes."
"You will remember all, everything--Calcutta, your father, Captain
Manners, your mother, your mother's brother, de rajah. But you forget
Ben Ali, and you think no more of him. You understand?"
"Yes."
This, in a little different language, Ben Ali repeated several times.
"Now, young sahib," said he, "let me up till I wake Haidee."
"Hold to him on that side, Joe," cautioned Matt, "but give him the use
of his hands. When Haidee wakes, release him."
"Sufferin' fairy tales!" grumbled McGlory. "I hate to do it, pard, and
that's honest, but I reckon, from what I've heard, that you know what
you're about. It's a hard way to bring right and justice to the girl
by letting this scoundrel escape the law, but there don't seem to be
anything else for it."
Slowly the boys got up and permitted Ben Ali to struggle to his feet.
When he was erect, both still gripped him by the waist in order to
prevent him from committing any treachery.
Ben Ali leaned forward and waved his hands.
"Awake, _meetoowah_!" he called sharply. "You are yourself again,
Margaret Manners! Awake!"
The girl started, and lifted both hands to her temples. It was enough,
and Motor Matt was satisfied.
"Let him go, Joe," said Matt, "but keep his knife."
The boys, at the same moment, withdrew their hands and stepped back.
Ben Ali, with a wild, snarling laugh, sprang into the woods and
vanished.
"What is it?" asked Margaret Manners, in a puzzled voice. "Where am I?
Ah, is that you, Motor Matt? And Joe!"
"Yes, sis," returned the cowboy, his voice full of gentleness, "it's
your friend McGlory, and the best friend you ever had if you did but
know it--Motor Matt."
"Come," said Matt briskly, "we must hustle back to the automobile. Carl
will have a fit wondering what has become of us."