"But he says he doesn't," Hatch remonstrated.
"There may be circumstances which make it necessary for him to say that," continued the scientist.
"He is prepared to swear that he never saw the man before."
"That might be quite true," was the curt rejoinder; "but I dare say he does know his name. The next time Garland comes to the city, let me know."
"He is here now," the reporter informed him. "He came in to-day to consult with Detective Mallory about the return of the money."
"That simplifies matters," said the scientist. "We'll see him at once."
Garland was in. Hatch introduced the distinguished man of science, and he came immediately to business.
"Tell me something of your love affairs, Mr. Garland," The Thinking Machine began abruptly.
"My love affairs? I have no love affairs at all."
"Oh, I see; married."
Garland gazed straight into the squinting eyes, with a quizzical expression about his mouth. "I don't see that it is absolutely inconsistent for a man to have a love affair and be married," he said smilingly. "There are men, you know, who are in love with their own wives. I happen to be one of these. When you said love affairs, I presumed you meant--"
"There are men," interrupted The Thinking Machine, "who because of being married dare not admit any other entanglements." The aggressive blue eyes were staring straight into Garland's.
After a moment the young man arose, with something like anger in his manner. "I don't happen to be one of them," he said sharply.
The Thinking Machine shrugged his shoulders. "Now, what is the name of the man who robbed you and cut those coats?" he asked.
"I don't know," retorted Garland.
"I know that is what you told the police," said the scientist; "but believe me, it would be best, and possibly save you trouble, for you to give me the name of that man."
"I don't know it," repeated Garland.
The Thinking Machine seemed satisfied on that point, but with his satisfaction came tiny, sinuous lines in his forehead. Hatch knew what that meant.
"You never saw the man before?" asked the scientist after a moment. The aggressiveness had gone from his voice now.
"No, I never saw him before," Garland replied.
"Nor a photograph of him?"
"No, never."
Almost imperceptibly the lines deepened in the brow of The Thinking Machine. His eyes were narrowed down to mere slits, and his thin lips set into a perfectly straight line. Garland studied the grotesque little figure with a curiosity backed by anger. For a long time there was silence, then:
"Mr. Garland, how long have you been married?"
"Four years."
The Thinking Machine shook his head and arose. "Please pardon me," he continued, "but what is your financial condition?"
"I am a salaried man; but it is a good salary, twelve thousand a year, quite enough for my wife and self."
"Your married life has been happy?"
"Perfectly."
Again The Thinking Machine shook his head.
Ten minutes later he and Hutchinson Hatch were in the street together.
"He has either lied, or else we have overlooked a unit," volunteered the scientist as they walked on. "Now I can't believe that we missed anything-ergo, he lied, and yet I can't believe that."
"Well, that doesn't leave much," the reporter suggested.
"The next step," the scientist went on, "will be to establish beyond all doubt that he told the truth. I leave that to you. Get his record for the last five years, and inquire particularly about his family life, his club life, and always bear in mind the possibility of another woman in the case. There is a woman-some woman-because she was in the automobile. Of course, the case is inconsequential, since the money has been returned; but I happen to be interested in it, because the return of the money bears out my hypothesis, and other things tend to upset it."
Hatch covered the affair thoroughly. Garland had told the truth, as far as investigation could develop. He so informed the scientist.
"It is singular, very singular," remarked The Thinking Machine, in deep abstraction. "By the inexorable rule of logic we reach a point where we must believe that Garland slit the lining of the coats himself, and had the money sent to him from Denver. When we attempt to find a motive for that, we plunge into absurdities. Two and two always make four, Mr. Hatch, not sometimes, but all the time. No problem in arithmetic can be correctly solved, if one figure is missing. There is one figure missing. I'll find it. In your investigation of Garland's career you found out something about his father?"
"Yes. He died several years ago. His name, by the way, was also Carroll Garland."
The Thinking Machine turned suddenly and squinted at the reporter. "Here is our missing unit, Mr. Hatch," he said. "Do you happen to know if there were ever any other Carroll Garlands in the family?"
"Years ago, yes. The great-grandfather of the present one was also a Carroll Garland."
The little scientist arose suddenly, paced back and forth half a dozen times, then passed into an adjoining room. Five minutes later he reentered, with his hat and coat. Accompanied by the reporter, he went straight to one of the fashionable clubs, and sent in a card. After a few minutes' wait a young man appeared.
"My name is Van Dusen," began The Thinking Machine. "I came here to see you about a personal matter. Could we go to some place where we should not be disturbed for a minute?"
The young man led the way into a private parlor and closed the door.
"It's about that compromising letter which you carry there," and The Thinking Machine touched the young man on the breast with one long slender finger.
"Did she send you?"
"No."
"Well, what business is it of yours, then?"
"I do not think that a man of honor-a man of your social position-would care to carry about with him a paper which would not only imperil but might wreck the reputation of a woman who is now another man's wife."
That The Thinking Machine had spoken correctly, Hatch could not doubt from the expression on the other's face.
"Another man's wife," repeated the young man in astonishment. "Since when?"
"A week or so ago. She is now in the West with her husband. He knows of the existence of this document, therefore whatever vengeful spirit you may have had in preserving it is wasted. I would advise you to destroy it."