They were in the drawing-room as usual, and the squire, looking more wrinkled and worn than ever, was seated in his arm-chair, while the artist dexterously put a line here and there on the painted face before him. "You don't seem well this morning, Mr. Garsworth," said Beaumont, as the old man moved wearily in his chair. "No, sir, I don't," retorted the squire in his harsh voice. "I don't expect I'll leave my bed again when I once go back to it." "Oh, things are surely not so bad as that." "I'm afraid they are," replied Garsworth, shaking his head. "I am anxious to go into a new body and leave this worn-out frame with its incessant pain." "Are you in pain now?" asked Beaumont, sympathetically. "Yes--I have a bad attack of neuralgia--the east wind always affects me more or less that way." "I think I could do you some good." "Nonsense--you're not a doctor?" "I am not the rose, but I've lived near it, my dear sir," said Beaumont equably, "and I know something of therapeutics." "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing," replied the old man sneeringly. "I can reply with another proverb," said Basil smiling. "A drowning man will clutch at a straw--so take me as your straw and see what I can do--I cannot cure you of your neuralgia, but I can give you some relief." "In what way?" "By hypnosis." "Bah!--Mesmer and charlatanism." "Not at all--I have studied the subject, and I assure you there is more truth in it than you imagine. Mesmer was not altogether a charlatan remember--he was wiser than Cagliostro." "Well--well--what do you propose to do?" "Hypnotise you." "And then?" "Well--the neuralgia will go away after you've been in the trance some time, then I'll wake you and you can retire." "But the portrait?" "It won't affect the portrait in the least--I-can go on painting and you will be free from pain." The squire hated pain, and was moreover very curious to test Beaumont's knowledge, so he consented to the idea. "Go on, sir," he said grimly. "I don't object." Beaumont nodded carelessly, delighted thus to have gained his end, and producing from his pocket a facetted piece of glass, he arose from his seat and walked over to the old man. Taking up his position at one side of the chair he held the glittering object just above the squire's forehead. "Look steadily at this," he said in a quiet tone, and on Garsworth doing so he waited silently for the result, which soon took place. The eyes became humid and brilliant, the gaze fixed and the pupils dilated, until the old man fell into a cataleptic state. As the glass facet was still held in front of his eyes he soon passed into a lethargic condition and fell backward in his chair with a sigh.