"Do you know who was in the automobile?" Dick insisted.
"I can only answer that question when you have answered mine," the scientist went on. "Was Harry Meredith masked when he entered this room last Thursday night?"
Dick sat staring down at his hands, which were working nervously. Finally he nodded.
The Thinking Machine understood.
"You recognised him, then, by something he said or wore?"
Again Dick nodded reluctantly.
"Both," he added.
The Thinking Machine leaned back in his chair and sat there for a long time. At last he arose as if the interview were at an end. There seemed to be no other questions that he desired to ask at the moment.
"You need not be unnecessarily alarmed, Mr. Herbert," he assured Dick as he picked up his hat. "I shall act with discretion in this matter. I am not representing anyone who would care to make it unpleasant for you. I may tell you that you made two serious mistakes: the first when you saw or communicated with Mr. Randolph immediately after the plate was stolen the second time, and again when you undertook something which properly belonged within the province of the police."
Herbert still sat with his head in his hands as The Thinking Machine went out.
It was very late that night-after twelve, in fact-when Hutchinson Hatch called on The Thinking Machine with excitement evident in tone, manner, and act. He was accustomed to calling at any hour; now he found the scientist at work as if it were midday.
"The worst has happened," the reporter told him.
The Thinking Machine didn't look around.
"Detective Mallory and two of his men saw Miss Meredith this evening about nine o'clock," Hatch hurried on, "and bully-ragged her into a confession."
"What sort of a confession?"
"She admitted that she was in the automobile on the night of the ball and that--"
"Mr. Herbert was with her," the scientist supplied.
"Yes."
"And-what else?"
"That her own jewels, valued at twenty thousand dollars, were among those found in Herbert's possession when he was arrested."
The Thinking Machine turned and looked at the reporter, just casually, and raised his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn.
"Well, she couldn't do anything else," he said calmly.
Chapter V.
Hutchinson Hatch remained with The Thinking Machine for more than an hour, and when he left his head was spinning with the multitude of instructions which had been heaped upon him.
"Meet me at noon in Detective Mallory's office at police headquarters," The Thinking Machine had said in conclusion. "Mr. Randolph and Miss Meredith will be there."
"Miss Meredith?" Hatch repeated. "She hasn't been arrested, you know, and I doubt if she will come."
"She will come," the scientist had replied, as if that settled it.
Next day the Supreme Intelligence was sitting in his private office. He had eaten the canary; mingled triumph and gratification beamed upon his countenance. The smile remained, but to it was added the quality of curiosity when the door opened and The Thinking Machine, accompanied by Dollie Meredith and Stuyvesant Randolph, entered.
"Mr. Hatch called yet?" inquired the scientist.
"No," responded the detective.
"Dear me!" grumbled the other. "It's one minute after twelve o'clock now. What could have delayed him?"
His answer was the clattering rush of a cab and the appearance of Hatch in person a moment later. He came into the room headlong, glanced around, then paused.
"Did you get it?" inquired The Thinking Machine.
"Yes, I got it, but--" began the reporter.
"Nothing else now," commanded the other.
There was a little pause as The Thinking Machine selected a chair. The others also sat down.
"Well?" inquired the Supreme Intelligence at last.
"I would like to ask, Mr. Mallory," the scientist said, "if it would be possible for me to convince you of Mr. Herbert's innocence of the charges against him?"
"It would not," replied the detective promptly. "It would not while the facts are before me, supplemented by the statement of Miss Meredith here-her confession."
Dollie coloured exquisitely and her lips trembled slightly.
"Would it be possible, Miss Meredith," the even voice went on, "to convince you of Mr. Herbert's innocence?"
"I-I don't think so," she faltered. "I-I know."
Tears which had been restrained with difficulty gushed forth suddenly, and The Thinking Machine squinted at her in pained surprise.
"Don't do that," he commanded. "It's-it's exceedingly irritating." He paused a moment, then turned suddenly to Mr. Randolph. "And you?" he asked.
Mr. Randolph shrugged his shoulders.
The Thinking Machine receded still further into his chair and stared dreamily upward with his long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip. Hatch knew the attitude; something was going to happen. He waited anxiously. Detective Mallory knew it, too, and wriggled uncomfortably.
"Suppose," the scientist began, "just suppose that we turn a little human intelligence on this problem for a change and see if we can't get the truth out of the blundering muddle that the police have helped to bring about. Let's use logic, inevitable logic, to show, simply enough, that instead of being guilty, Mr. Herbert is innocent."
Dolly Meredith suddenly leaned forward in her chair with flushed face, eyes widely opened and lips slightly parted. Detective Mallory also leaned forward in his chair, but there was a different expression on his face-oh, so different.
"Miss Meredith, we know you were in the automobile with the Burglar who stole the plate," The Thinking Machine went on. "You probably knew that he was wounded and possibly either aided in dressing the wound-as any woman would-or else saw him dress it himself?"