But it so happened that Grosjean, who, as I have mentioned, was educated above his station, had once read a book on mesmerism, and was acquainted with its methods. He recognized them in Delamort's antics and, with an indignant laugh, he rose to his feet.
"I think we have had enough of this foolery, M. Delamort," he said. "I half expected that you would resort to hypnotism to gain your ends."
"You are acquainted, then, with hypnotism?" quoth Delamort, a trifle crestfallen, slipping his hand into his pocket as he spoke.
"Sufficiently acquainted with it to see through you, my friend," answered Grosjean. "I think that I may fairly claim to have won my wager."
"One moment," Delamort implored him.. "It is an interesting topic--hypnotism. Doubtless you are aware of the effect produced by the contemplation of a bright disk or ring?"
"Yes," answered the other dubiously. "What of it?"
"I am about to have recourse to it in consequence of my failure with the mesmeric passes," was the cool rejoinder. "I beg that you will contemplate this."
Grosjean found himself staring at the bright rim of the barrel of a revolver, with which Delamort had suddenly covered him.
"Bon Dieu!" he ejaculated in affright.
"Ah!" purred Delamort, with manifest satisfaction. "By your face and manner I see that you are already coming under the influence. Now, be good enough to reseat yourself and listen to me."
Grosjean obeyed him with that alacrity which terror alone can impart.
"Excellent," murmured the occultist. "The hypnotic power of a pistol-nozzle has no equal. Now, sir, I think that you are sufficiently warned of the manner of man you have to deal with, to sit quietly and listen to what I have to propose."
"You don't mean to shoot me?" cried Grosjean interrogatively.
"Shoot you? By no means. You will be far too reasonable. I am exerting no more than a slight persuasion to induce you to listen to me."
"Then, will you--would you mind putting that thing away? You wouldn't believe how easy it is to have an accident with firearms.".
With the utmost affability, Delamort slipped the pistol back into his pocket.
III
"Now, to business," said Delamort. "You may think, monsieur, that I am a rank impostor. I am not. I am a genuine spiritualist, as well as something of a hypnotist. Indeed, I have a reputation to maintain. Now, it occasionally happens that I come across a man so strongminded, of such determination and willpower that my art is defeated and baffled. Such a man, my dear M. Grosjean, are you. I confess it with regret, for it is never pleasant to find ourselves confronted by a stronger individuality, which will not bring itself under our control."
Grosjean, who was recovering from his fears, smiled, with the pleasure occasioned him by these elaborate compliments.
"While my failure, monsieur," Delamort continued, "makes you the gainer of a paltry three napoleons, it occasions me the loss of over six hundred francs. As you will readily perceive, there is no proportion in this. Besides, I am a poor man, M. Grosjean; and, in addition to the loss of all this money, there is the further loss of character and prestige, which will be nothing short of ruinous to me. You understand?"
Grosjean grinned until his yellow face was wrinkled into the semblance of a crumpled parchment.
"I understand, but I am afraid I cannot help you. It is the fortune of war." He endeavored to give his voice an inflection of polite regret, but the pleasure of gaining three napoleons was not so lightly to be suppressed by a man of Grosjean's grasping nature.
"Pardon," returned Delamort. "But you can help me, and by helping me you can help yourself. Now, if instead of three napoleons, your profit by my failure were to be six, would it not be worth your while to save my reputation?"
"What do you mean?" quoth Grosjean suspiciously.
"Just this. If you will acknowledge to your friends that you have seen your father's ghost, and consequently lost your wager, I will pay you nine napoleons--that is, the three you have staked and the six I am giving you in compensation."
Grosjean's eyes brightened with greed.
"It would be doing you a good service, would it not--saving your reputation?"
"Assuredly."
"Also, it would be making you a profit of the twenty-six napoleons staked by my friends, eh?"
"Why, yes. But not twenty-six, my friend. Seventeen napoleons will be my total profit after I have settled with you."
Grosjean reflected a moment; then a cunning smile spread on his face. "I admire your method of raising ghosts, M. Delamort," said he with jeering irony. He shook his head and laughed. "No, no, my friend. Such a service as you are asking of me is worth more than six napoleons. You are proposing a revolting course to me. I can't do it. I really can't."
"You are throwing away money, monsieur, by your refusal," Delamort reminded him. "Surely a gain of six napoleons is better than a gain of only three. And you are earning it without any trouble or inconvenience. How much better would you be if I did raise your father's ghost? It would only scare you to death. I beg that you will seriously consider my proposal."
"I can't be a party to such a swindle. I really can't--not for six napoleons, anyhow. If I practise this wretched deceit upon my trusting friends, I must have half your profit. That is to say, I must have thirteen napoleons."
"I'll give you ten."
"Thirteen or I'll walk out and denounce you for an impudent impostor. Make your choice."
Some one knocked at the door. His friends were becoming anxious.
"Are you all right, Grosjean?" inquired a voice, to which the old man returned an affirmative reply.
"Has he raised the spirit yet?"
"Not yet." answered Grosjean, while Delamort added: "But I hope to do so in a moment or two, if you will refrain from interrupting me. Have the goodness not to disturb us again." Then to Grosjean, in a whisper: "Now, monsieur," said he, "what is it to be? Will you accept ten napoleons?"
"Thirteen," was the laconic answer, delivered with finality.
"Very well, then. Thirteen be it, provided that you will follow out my instructions."
"What are they?"
"You are to scream two or three times, and then fall down and simulate a swoon as best you can, reviving only after I have admitted your friends."
"Parfaitement," said the old traitor, his greedy eyes shining with avarice. "Pay me the money now, so that my friends will have no suspicions."
Delamort produced his purse and carefully took thirteen napoleons from it, one by one. One by one he delivered them to his companion.
"See that they don't jingle," he admonished him; "for if any one were to hear it he would suspect."
Grosjean nodded that he understood, and pocketed each coin as he received it. When he had received the thirteenth he still put forth his hand, and upon being asked by Delamort what he wanted, he insolently replied that he wanted the return of his stake of three napoleons.
"That was included. It was to be thirteen altogether," the occultist protested. But Grosjean had not so understood it, and swore that he would not perform his part of the bargain until he received another sixty francs.
They wrangled for some moments, Delamort protesting that thus Grosjean was making more out of it than he was himself. In the end he was forced to give in and pay the further money demanded, which he did with the worst grace in the world.
IV
"Now for your part, monsieur," said Delamort; "and see that you play me no tricks."
It was unlikely that he would, since were he to betray the occultist he must forego the gain he was making. Rising from his chair, he awoke the echoes of the inn with a scream that was a masterpiece of blood-curdling vociferation.