Three times a day Ben Harper put on his act. Three times a day audiences sat spellbound. Men who tried in vain to remember names, dates, figures, faces, things, stared with open-mouthed wonder at the man who could forget nothing.

  There was a traffic snarl ahead. Ben Harper knew that he had several minutes to spare, so he kicked out his dutch to let the motor idle, and closed his eyes.

  Whenever possible Harper kept his eyes closed. The things that he saw he remembered—not in the laborious manner in which most people try to cultivate memories, by association of ideas, by trying to figure out some sequence, but effortlessly and endlessly.

  Ben Harper’s mind was as thoroughly receptive as an unexposed film. His eyes stamped images upon his brain. Those images were, in turn, seared into his consciousness. He could recall the scenes, just as a motion picture can be run backwards, and he did this without conscious effort.

  The traffic officer blew his whistle. Slowly the traffic crawled into motion. Harper opened his eyes, but kept them raised above the level of the string of traffic. He knew, from sad experience, that if he glanced down at license numbers his memory would seize upon the figure, as a magnet grabs icon filings. Sometimes in the small hours of the night, when he wanted to sleep, a stream of automobiles would slide through his memory, each car decorated with its proper license plate, and with such distinguishing marks as tire covers, dented fenders, wire wheels, and particular makes of tires.

  Harper eased the clutch into place. His car crawled forward. He sensed action on his right, felt the car sway over as someone jumped to his runningboard. A woman’s voice said, “Please forgive me, Mr. Harper, but I must see you at once.”

  Harper kept his face straight ahead. The traffic officer blew his whistle once more. Traffic came to a halt. The young woman leaned across the open door of the roadster.

  “Please,” she said.
  Ber Harper reached out and slipped down the catch on the door.

  “Don’t stand there on the running-board,” he said, “or you’ll get brushed off.”

  The traffic officer blew his whistle again. Harper slid the car into low gear, stepped on the throttle, and lifted to second. The young woman crawled inside of the car and pulled the door shut.

  Harper negotiated the street intersection, snapped the car into high, and made the turn into the parking lot hack of the theater.

  “What is it you want?” he asked.

  "I want you to solve a murder.”

  ” I’m not a detective.”

  “This is a duty you owe an innocent man.”

  “Who’s the innocent man?”

  “My brother.”

  He turned then to stare at her, saw a pleasing profile with an upturned nose, a saucy mouth which seemed designed, by nature, for quick, vivacious smiles, but which was now held into grim, purposeful lines at the corners. A brown hat was tilted to one side of the head.

  Underneath the upturned brim on the high side, chestnut hair fluffed out in soft curls.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Elizabeth Crail.”

  Suddenly Harper laughed.

  ” You’re too late,” he said.

  “Too late?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. ”C. Wright Delamy, your boss, telephoned me more than half an hour ago. I promised him I’d come in immediately after the theater.”

  ” I don’t understand,” she said.

  ” He told me,” Harper went on,

  ” that some of his business associates were trying to fix the blame of a murder on a man named Ashley Crail, the brother of his secretary. He said he wasn’t satisfied with the way his associates were handling the thing, and wanted me to look in.”

  “You promised him you would?”

  Ben Harper’s hand dropped down upon hers. His fingers gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  ” I promised him,” he said,” that I would.”

  CHAPTER V

  Death on the Pillow

  C. Wright Delamy performed ’ the introductions. One by one * the millionaires grasped Ben Harper by the hand.

  One at a time, they encountered the gaze of those diamond-hard eyes with the needle-pointed pupils—eyes that seemed like the twin lenses of a camera.

  Harper closed his eyes, leaned against the wall, and said almost meditatively, “The muzzles of those machine guns, gentlemen, are just a little bit Utter than the ornamentations which surround them. It’s just a detail, but it might be well to have it changed, particularly if some observant newspaper reporter happens on the scene.”

  Gale gasped, looked at the others, and sputtered, “Someone’s been tipping him off! Which one of you?” Delamy shook his head, and placed his finger to his Ups in a warning gesture.

  ” We might,” said Harper, ” take a look at the room that Millers occupied. It might help.”

  “The police have gone through it

  They’ve looked for fingerprints and all that sort of stuff,” Delamy said.

  Harper nodded wearily, and remarked,” I wasn’t going to look for fingerprints.”

  ” What you’ve got to look for, and find,” Pitley Simms said, ” is the man who wrote those letters. I’ve made arrangements with the telegraph company so that any more telegrams sent in by Letterman will be handled in a special manner. The call wilt be traced while the man is on the line. Police will be notified. They’ll pick him up— not for threatening us, but for obtaining telegraphic service under false representations.”

  Harper yawned.

  ” We will,” said Delamy,” go take a look at the room.”

  They went through the electrically controlled doors, up the elevator, and Delamy indicated the splintered door jamb.

  “That’s where Menloe pried it open with a bar,” he said.

  The Man Who Couldn’t Forget stepped into the room, dosed his eyes, and took three steps toward the center of the room. Then he opened his eyes, slowly pivoted about until he had completed a circle.

  There was a slow deliberation in his motions, as though he bad been actuated by some clockwork mechanism, as the lens of a panorama kodak will swing in a circle on its tripod mounting.

  When he had finished, he dosed bis eyes again, and stood for a matter of several seconds. Then he said, “Very well, gentlemen, let us look around at some of the other rooms. I’d like to see the entire layout”

  They took him through the palatial suites, and in each room The Man Who Couldn’t Forget went through substantially the same procedure.

  Boxman went to the window of the lounging room, looked down at the street.

  ” It’s inconceivable," he said, “that the dog could have been thrown through that window. It would have taken a man who possessed terrific strength. I wonder if the dog could have jumped.”

  "The police think the dog attacked Millers?” Harper asked.

  That’s their theory now. The wound in the throat looks as though it had been done by some animal. My theory is that in son* way an animal was introduced into the room—an animal which attacked Millers. The dog, in turn, attacked the animal, and when he found he was overpowered, jumped through the window. Or, the animal may have jumped through the window and the dog may have gone after him.” ” In that case,” Harper remarked, “the question naturally arises: what was the nature of this animal, and what became of it?”

  Boxman shrugged his shoulders. “Gentlemen,” Harper said, “you have called me in on this case because I possess certain peculiar powers, or gifts, if you desire to call them that, which are not possessed by the average man.,

  "Ido not need to mention these particular powers. Such as they are, they are well known. Therefore, you will pardon me if I seem to digress.

  “Three months ago, in Cranston, I saw something which impressed me as peculiar. A dog was attacking a dummy figure. His manner was most peculiar. He showed every evidence of rage. He was literally tearing the dummy figure to pieces.

  “At first I thought it was merely a part of a training for a motion picture stunt, and that the animal was being trained to demolish dummies. But. suddenly, the dog dropped to the ground, stared at the dummy, started to whine, then turned tail and ran as hard as lie could run.

  “A man’s voice said, "That’s enough. Lie down!" and the dog dropped to the ground. He was quivering in every muscle. The man who had given the order hadn’t seen me. He was concealed behind some shrubbery, watching the dog from such a position that the dog couldn’t see him.

  “Now, then, gentlemen, we come to the peculiar part of the entire affair. The man snapped his fingers, the dog got up and started running away—not as he had been running before—but as a dog trots away upon some casual canine mission of no importance.”

  Boxman's tone showed impatience.

  “What the devil has all this got to do with it?” lie asked.

  ” Simply this,” Ben Harper said. “I am satisfied the man behind the hedge wasn’t the owner of that dog. I am satisfied he was merely someone who had picked up a strange dog for an experiment”

  Boxman said, impatiently, “Who was this fellow, anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” Harper said. "Inever did see his face. He saw me through the hedge then, and turned and took to his heels, just as the dug had done. But this much I do know about him—he was expensively tailored.”

  “What,” asked Pitley Simms, “has all this got to do with the death of Mr. Millers?”

  Ben Harper said, slowly, “It may have a lot to do with it You gentlemen will notice that there’s an interoffice communicating system, with a loudspeaking device.

  "What of it?"

  “Millers was throwing a switch on that device,” Harper said slowly, “when the dog attacked him.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  ” You can see a dent on one of the keys. It’s a dent that was freshly made. There’s a similar dent on the other side of it. Those dents were ceased by teeth. The animal damped his jaws on either side of the key.”

  Gale snorted.

  ” Bosh and nonsense,” he said. “I happen to know enough about hypnotism to know that it’s impossible to hypnotise an animal. Even if it were possible, the explanation, if it is an explanation, is altogether too bizarre. Personally, I think we’re wasting time —a lot of rime.”

  Boxman nodded his head. Delamy turned to Harper and said, quietly, ” What is it that you suggest?”

  "I suggest.” Harper said,” that you send trained investigators to the city of Cranston, And out everything you can about a man who lived there three months ago who practiced hypnotism. See if there were, perhaps, an excessive number of mad dog complaints. Doubtless the demolished dummy was found where the man had left it when the dog got through with it. It was in the East Side Park. Talk with the park authorities, find out whether they are still bolding the dummy, or what was done with it, and whether an attempt was made to trace the clothes that it wore. Do everything possible to locate this individual.”

  "You think it would have something to do with the murder?” Delamy asked.

  Harper shrugged his shoulders, dosed his eyes.

  ” Do you think animals can be hypnotized?" Delamy asked.

  ” I know they can,” Harper told him. ” It’s simply a question of finding an animal intellect that can hold a certain idea. For instance, put a chicken down on a table with its beak touching the table. Restrain it there by force. Take a piece of chalk and draw a straight line out from the chicken’s beak along the surface of the table. Use a fairly rough surface so that the chalk wilt make a brilliant line. What happens? The chicken finds itself incapable of raising its head from the table, but stares in steady concentration at that line.

  ” Dogs are far more intelligent than chickens. I’m satisfied they can be hypnotized. I don’t know how far a person can go in implanting an idea in a dog’s mind while the animal it under the influence of hypnotism.”

  “Then,” Delamy said slowly, ” you’re of the opinion that Millers* dog was hypnotized so that it attacked its master. 1$ that your theory?”

  Harper opened his eyes and said, wearily. ” I have no theories. I am only asking that you collect certain data. If you wish to work with me. gentlemen, it will be necessary for you to collect such data as I suggest from time to time.”

  Delamy whipped out a notebook.

  “That,” he said, “will be taken care of.”

  “Look here,” Boxman said, “if your contention is correct, Harper, this Draper, who called in the office, must have been tl>e one who hypnotized the dog.”

  “Well,” Harper asked, ” what of it?”

  “We know,” Boxman said, “that Millers was switching in on the lower office, because this man had asked for him. Now, that brings up the fact that this man, Draper, was a friend of Ashley Crail. Crail got his job largely because of Delamy’s insistence. He’s a brother of Delamy’s secretary. Aside from that, we don’t know a single thing about him.”

  “That’s all you need to know,” Delamy said, with dignity. ” The fact that he’s Elizabeth Grail’s brother shows that he’s above suspicion.”

  “Bosh,” Boxman said, irritably.

  Pitley Simms nodded.

  “Yes,” he said, “we should have some investigation about this Crail business. After all, it may be that you’re right about the dog. In that event, this Draper knew that Millers would be listening to him. He knew dial the dog could hear his voice.”

  “But,” Delamy pointed out,11 Draper couldn’t have said anything in particular. It must have been only the sound of his voice that started tile dog attacking Millers. You fellows forget that there was an attendant in that room all the time. It was impossible for Draper to have said anything which could have been construed as a signal for the dog.”

  Harper was on the point of saying something, but checked himself as Elizabeth Crail entered the room. She was white-faced. Her glance shifted to

  Ben Harper, The Man Who Couldn’t Forget, for a brief flicker of grateful recognition—then she handed C. Wright Delamy a letter.

  ” This,” she said,” was picked up in the lobby by the guard. He hasn’t any idea how it got there. He simply saw it lying on the floor. It was folded just as you see it now. He opened it, read it, and sent for me immediately.”

  Delamy unfolded the letter,’ read it casually, and nodded.

  “A letter,” he said, “from our friend Mr. Letterman. He says that I am the next on the list. That, after alt, he can deal with three as easily as he can with four.”

  Boxman reached for the letter. Harrison Gale heaved a sigh.

  “That settles it, Delamy,” he said. “If anything happens to you I’m going to insist that the two million dollars be paid.”

  Boxman nodded thoughtfully.

  “Yes,” Simms said, “if that devil can contrive to get past the precautions we’re taking and do anything to Delamy I’m going to see that the money is paid.”

  Delamy laughed, and, while there was a strained note about his laughter, as though his throat muscles were slightly constricted, his voice was hearty.

  “Well,” he said, “I seem to be the human guinea pig. All right, go ahead.”

  Ben Harper, standing in the middle of the room, sighed and closed his eyes in thought. After a moment he said, “You lock yourself in your room at night, Delamy?”

  " And put a bolt on the door,” Delamy said, “after!’ve first searched the room. I’m not a coward, but I don’t believe in taking any chances.”

  Harper consulted his watch. ” You’ll be turning in shortly?”

  “Very shortly alter you leave—yes.”

  Harper said, slowly, 111 think it might be a good plan for me to take a look at your room, Delamy.”

  ” But you’ve already seen it.”

  “Something he’s forgotten,” said Pitley Simms, and snickered.

  Delamy led the way toward the room.

  ” It’s just around the corner,” he said. ” You remember that you looked at it, then went through the bathroom into the adjoining room, and came luck.”

  ‘* No,” Harper said, ” we didn’t go back. We moved over to the window of the communicating room to look down along the lire escape. We storied to go back to the other room. In fact, one or two of the party had actually gone into your bedroom when you suggested that there was another door which led to the corridor and I might like to look at that.”

  ” That’s right,” Delamy said, “I remember now.”

  “But the room hasn’t changed any since you’ve seen it” Harrison Gale protested.

  Harper said nothing, but followed Gale’s broad shoulders down the corridor. Delamy took a key from his pocket, unlocked and opened the door. Harper stepped inside, looked about the room with that slow, deliberate scrutiny of his, then nodded his head slowly.

  “Just as I thought,” he said.

  ” What’s just as you thought?” Box* man asked, irritably.

  ” The room,” Harper said, “is not the same.”

  “What the devil do you mean?”

  ” When we were here before,” Harper said, “the pillow on that bed was turned so that the opening of the pillow slip was toward the window. Now, you’ll notice that it’s toward the door.”

  “Well, what if it is?” Harrison Gale demanded. “There’s a valet who enters the room whenever he wants to. There’s Delamy’s secretary. She was looking for him with that letter. She may welt have looked for him in his room.”

  ” She has the key?” Harper asked.

  Delamy nodded.

  ” How many other keys?”

  “Three or four,” Delamy said, ” but understand, Harper, whenever I’m in this room I don’t rely on the keys. I turn that bolt on the inside of the door.”