“Just lately,” said the man from Budapest, interrupting him, “we took into custody a similar adventurer, and we did it by curious and not exactly legal methods, but we got no further in any other way. With us in Hungary, as it is with you here, the assistance of hypnotism in the detection of crime is forbidden. We had the man of whom we were almost certain--but, my dear sir, you won’t betray me, I am sure, for the professional interest you feel in putting an end to such aberrations is just as strong in me--well, we were practically certain that he was the leader of a gang which had several murders to their account. He was in prison, as I have told you. He made himself out a deaf mute, and we could glean nothing from his papers. No one knew him, yet we felt almost sure of our man, and that kind of thing is almost unbearable to an expert, isn’t it?--for when he appeared before their worships, there was the risk of his being acquitted for lack of sufficient evidence. That was a most disagreeable idea to me, for I had spent about six months in tracking him down, and if he were discharged the mistake would be due to me. I therefore took a very bold step. A friend of mine had hypnotic powers. He was a barrister, and had often displayed these gifts of his in private. I wanted him to go to the jail with me, but he said, ‘I can operate on him from outside,’ and, indeed, a quarter of an hour later I knew that we had the leader of the gang at last, and various disclosures were made which shortly after sent him to the gallows.” While the Hungarian was telling this story Wenk experienced an aversion to him. He had a sensation of profound mental resistance to the man, although he could not explain what had caused such a reversal of feeling. “Are you also interested in persons who possess this gift of suggestion?” asked the police superintendent. “Uncommonly so!” answered Wenk. “Perhaps you would like to meet my friend, and see something of his gifts?” “Is he in Berlin, then? Yes, that I certainly should!” “Yes, he’s here now. He has given up practising law, and now exercises his gifts openly. He has very quickly become celebrated. You must have heard the name of Weltmann?” Wenk did not like to say No, so he answered with a subdued “Certainly!” “Well, he is the celebrated Weltmann. You know he is noticeable on account of his having only one hand. He lost the other in the Carpathians in 1915. Well, we’ll arrange a meeting, then. I will see him in the morning. Are you on the telephone by any chance?” Wenk mentioned his telephone number. Both the gentlemen then left, to go to a house where ether, cocaine and opium were procurable, and other more obvious vices were pandered to.