"I know something about hypnotism, Colin. It won't do anything like what you think happened to those girls."
Fraser got out his pipe and fumbled tobacco into it. "I think," he said, "I'm going to call on Dr. Robert Kennedy myself."
"Take it easy, boy," said Martinez. "You been reading too many weird stories; you'll just get tossed out on your can."
Fraser tried to smile. It was hard—Judy wouldn't answer his calls and letters any more. "Well," he said, "it'll be in a worthy cause."
THE elevator let him out on the nineteenth floor. It held four big suites, with the corridor running between them. He studied the frosted-glass doors. On one side was the Eagle Publishing Company and Frank & Dayles, Brokers. On the other was the Messenger Advertising Service, and Sentiment, Inc. He entered their door and stood in a quiet, oak-paneled reception room. Behind the railing were a couple of desks, a young woman working at each, and two burly men who sat boredly reading magazines.
The pretty girl, obviously the receptionist, looked up as Fraser approached and gave him a professional smile. "Yes, sir?" she asked.
"I'd like to see Dr. Kennedy, please," he said, trying hard to be casual.
"Do you have an appointment, sir?"
"No, but it's urgent."