CHAPTER IV.
AN EARLY-MORNING CALL.

It was a custom of Nick Carter to take a brisk walk by himself in the early morning when he had been able to get to bed at a reasonable hour the night before. In accordance with this habit he was out of the house and on his way to Madison Square before seven the day after his visit, with the Benthams and Mrs. Morrison, to the home of Ched Ramar, in Brooklyn.

The grass looked and smelled fresh at that hour, for it was a bright morning, and there had been a light shower of rain during the night, which had freshened the verdure and flowers, and brought out their fragrance more than[Pg 14] usual. The detective enjoyed a stroll about the little park, and his thoughts were clearer than they would have been in a room. At least, he believed they were.

“Hypnotism!” he mused, half aloud. “That is the explanation, no doubt. But it doesn’t make everything clear. For instance, it doesn’t tell me who this Ched Ramar really is. I looked at him closely last night, and I couldn’t see anything in him that warranted my doubting him. Nevertheless, I do doubt him—from the top of his turban to the heels of his slippers.”

He took another turn up the path he had chosen for his stroll, in a rather retired part of the square, before he resumed his half-audible cogitations. Then he went on slowly:

“It is fortunate for society that the understanding of hypnotism rests chiefly in the hands of men who are to be trusted. Were its power to be wielded to any great extent by criminals, there would be many innocent tools of lawbreakers. It may be that Clarice Bentham is one of them. I hope not, but it looks suspicious.

“The greatest tragedy is that, while under the dominion of another’s will, the hypnotic subject has no realization of its doings, and, when consciousness returns, no remembrance. Well, if Ched Ramar is taking advantage of that young girl’s innocence of the ways of the world to make her do things she would shrink from under ordinary circumstances, I don’t think it will be well for Ched Ramar. In fact—— Hello! What’s the trouble now? Here comes Chick!”

Indeed, Chick came hurrying along the path at a pace that told he had something important to communicate—even if his face had not shown that he was excited.

“Telephone, chief!” cried Chick, as soon as he came within hearing. “It is Professor Matthew Bentham. Wanted to know if you could see him if he came. I told him you were out just then, but I believed I could find you.”

“Yes?”