‘There isn’t any object,’ the Indian said. ‘Your hand is empty.’
Dr Marshall removed the covering from the man’s eyes. ‘How do you do it?’ he asked. ‘What’s the trick?’
‘There is no trick,’ the Indian said. ‘It is a genuine thing that I have managed after years of training.’
‘What sort of training?’ I asked.
‘Forgive me, sir,’ he said. ‘But that is a private matter.’
‘Then why did you come here?’ I asked.
‘I came to request a favour of you,’ he said.
The Indian was a tall man of about thirty with light brown skin, the colour of a coconut. He had a small black moustache. Also, there was a curious matting of black hair growing all over the outsides of his ears. Her wore a white cotton robe, and he had sandals on his bare feet.
‘You see, gentlemen,’ he went on, ‘I am at present earning my living by working in a travelling theatre, and we have just arrived here in Bombay. Tonight we give our opening performance.’
‘Where do you give it?’ I asked.
‘In the Royal Palace Hall,’ he answered. ‘In Acacia Street. I am the star performer. I am billed on the programme as “Imhrat Khan, the man who sees without his eyes”. And it is my duty to advertise the show in a big way. If we don’t sell tickets, we don’t eat.’
‘What does this have to do with us?’ I asked him.
‘Very interesting for you,’ he said. ‘Lots of fun. Let me explain. You see, whenever our theatre arrives in a new town, I myself go straight to the largest hospital and I ask the doctors there to bandage my eyes. I ask them to do it in the most expert fashion. They must make sure my eyes are completely covered many times over. It is important that this job is done by doctors, otherwise people will think I am cheating. Then, when I am fully bandaged, I go out into the streets and I do a dangerous thing.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I asked.
‘What I mean is that I do something that is extremely dangerous for someone who cannot see.’
‘What do you do?’ I asked.
‘It is very interesting,’ he said. ‘And you will see me do it if you will be so kind as to bandage me up first. It would be a great favour to me if you will do this little thing, sirs.’
I looked at the other three doctors. Dr Phillips said he had to go back to his patients. Dr Macfarlane said the same. Dr Marshall said, ‘Well, why not? It might be amusing. It won’t take a minute.’
‘I’m with you,’ I said. ‘But let’s do the job properly. Let’s make absolutely sure he can’t peep.’
‘You are extremely kind,’ the Indian said. ‘Please do whatever you wish.’
Dr Phillips and Dr Macfarlane left the room.
‘Before we bandage him,’ I said to Dr Marshall, ‘let’s first of all seal down his eyelids. When we’ve done that, we’ll fill his eye-sockets with something soft and solid and sticky.’
‘Such as what?’ Dr Marshall asked.
‘What about dough?’
‘Dough would be perfect,’ Dr Marshall said.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘If you will nip down to the hospital bakery and get some dough, I’ll take him into the surgery and seal his lids.’
I led the Indian out of the Rest Room and down the long hospital corridor to the surgery. ‘Lie down there,’ I said, indicating the high bed. He lay down. I took a small bottle from the cupboard. It had an eyedropper in the top. ‘This is something called collodion,’ I told him. ‘It will harden over your closed eyelids so that it is impossible for you to open them.’
‘How do I get it off afterwards?’ he asked me.