Strange emotions all tangled up with turbulent, night-marish impressions
scrambled through Dollie Meredith's pretty head in garish disorder. She
didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Finally she compromised by blushing
radiantly at the memory of certain lingering kisses she had bestowed
upon--upon--Dick Herbert? No, it wasn't Dick Herbert. Oh, dear!
Detective Mallory pounced upon the bullet as a hound upon a hare, and
turned and twisted it in his hands. Cunningham leaned over his shoulder,
then drew a cartridge from the revolver and compared it, as to size,
with the bullet. Hatch and Mr. Randolph, looking on, saw him shake his
head. The ball was too small for the revolver.
The Supreme Intelligence turned suddenly, fiercely, upon Dollie and
thrust an accusing finger into her startled face.
"Mr. Herbert confessed to you that he was with you in the automobile,
didn't he?"
"Y-yes," she faltered.
"You _know_ he was with you?"
"I thought I knew it."
"You wouldn't have gone with any other man?"
"Certainly not!" A blaze of indignation suffused her cheeks.
"Your casket of jewels was found among the stolen goods in his
possession?"
"Yes, but----"
With a wave of his hand the Supreme Intelligence stopped explanations
and turned to glare at The Thinking Machine. That imperturbable
gentleman did not alter his position in the slightest, nor did he change
the steady, upward squint of his eyes.
"If you have quite finished, Mr. Mallory," he said after a moment, "I
will explain how and in what circumstances the stolen plate and jewels
came into Mr. Herbert's possession."
"Go on," urged Mr. Randolph and Hatch in a breath.
"Explain all you please; I've got him with the goods on," declared the
Supreme Intelligence doggedly.
"When the simplest rules of logic establish a fact it becomes
incontrovertible," resumed the scientist. "I have shown that Mr. Herbert
was _not_ the man in the automobile--the Burglar. Now, what _did_ happen
to Mr. Herbert? Twice since his arrest he has stated that it would be
useless for him to explain because no one would believe it, and no one
_would_ have believed it unsupported, least of all you, Mr. Mallory.
"It's an admitted fact that Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert had planned to
elope from Seven Oaks the night of the ball. I daresay that Mr. Herbert
did not deem it wise for Miss Meredith to know his costume, although he
must, of necessity, have known hers. Therefore, the plan was for him to
recognise her, but as it developed she recognised him--or thought she
did--and that was the real cause of this remarkable muddle." He glanced
at Dollie. "Is that correct?"
Dollie nodded blushingly.
"Now, Mr. Herbert did not go to the ball--why not I will explain later.
Therefore, Miss Meredith recognised the real Burglar as Mr. Herbert, and
we know how they ran away together after the Burglar had stolen the
plate and various articles of jewelry. We must credit the Burglar with
remarkable intelligence, so that when a young and attractive woman--I
may say a beautiful woman--spoke to him as someone else he immediately
saw an advantage in it. For instance, when there came discovery of the
theft the girl might unwittingly throw the police off the track by
revealing to them what she believed to be the identity of the thief.
Further, he was a daring, audacious sort of person; the pure love of
such an adventure might have appealed to him. Still, again, it is
possible that he believed Miss Meredith a thief who was in peril of
discovery or capture, and a natural gallantry for one of his own craft
prompted him to act as he did. There is always, too, the possibility
that he knew he was mistaken for Mr. Herbert."
Dollie was beginning to see, too.
"We know the method of escape, the pursuit, and all that," continued
the Professor, "therefore we jump to the return of the gold plate. Logic
makes it instantly apparent that that was the work of Miss Meredith
here. Not having the plate, Mr. Herbert did not send it back, of course;
and the Burglar _would_ not have sent it back. Realising, too late, that
the man she was with was really a thief--and still believing him,
perhaps, to be Mr. Herbert--she must have taken the plate and escaped
under cover of darkness?"
The tone carried a question and The Thinking Machine turned squintingly
upon Dollie. Again she nodded. She was enthralled, fascinated, by the
recital.
"It was a simple matter for her to return the gold plate by express,
taking advantage of an unoccupied house and the willingness of a
stranger to telephone for an express wagon. Thus, we have the plate
again at Seven Oaks, and we have it there by the only method it could
have been returned there when we account for, and consider, every known
fact."
The Thinking Machine paused and sat silently staring upward. His
listeners readjusted themselves in their chairs and waited impatiently.
"Now, why did Mr. Herbert confess to Miss Meredith that he stole the
plate?" asked the scientist, as if of himself. "Perhaps she forced him
to it. Mr. Herbert is a young man of strong loyalty and a grim sense of
humour, this latter being a quality the police are not acquainted with.
However, Mr. Herbert _did_ confess to Miss Meredith that he was the
Burglar, but he made this confession, obviously, because she would
believe nothing else, and when a seeming necessity of protecting the
real Burglar was still uppermost in his mind. What he wanted was the
Girl. If the facts never came out he was all right; if they did come out
they would implicate one whom he was protecting, but through no fault of
his--therefore, he was still all right."
"Bah!" exclaimed the Supreme Intelligence. "My experience has shown
that a man doesn't confess to a theft unless----"
"So we may safely assume," The Thinking Machine continued almost
pleasantly, "that Mr. Herbert, by confessing the theft as a prank,
perhaps, won back Miss Meredith's confidence; that they planned an
elopement for the second time. A conversation Mr. Hatch had with Mr.
Herbert immediately after Mr. Herbert saw Miss Meredith practically
confirms it. Then, with matters in this shape, the real Burglar, to whom
I have accredited unusual powers, stole the plate the second time--we
know how."
"Herbert stole it, you mean!" blazed Detective Mallory.
"This theft came immediately on top of the reconciliation of Miss
Meredith and Mr. Herbert," The Thinking Machine went on steadily,
without heeding the remark by the slightest sign. "Therefore, it was
only natural that he should be the person most vitally interested in
seeing that the plate was again returned. He undertook to do this
himself. The result was that, where the police had failed, he found the
plate and a lot of jewels, took them from the Burglar, and was about to
return Mr. Randolph's property when the detectives walked in on him.
That is why he laughed."
Detective Mallory arose from his seat and started to say something
impolite. The presence of Dollie Meredith choked the words back and he
swallowed hard.
"Who then," he demanded after a couple of gulps--"who do you say is the
thief if Herbert is not?"
The Thinking Machine glanced up into his face, then turned to Hatch.
"Mr. Hatch, what is that name I asked you to get?"
"George Francis Hayden," was the stammering reply, "but--but----"
"Then George Francis Hayden is the thief," declared The Thinking Machine
emphatically.
"But I--I started to say," Hatch blurted--"I started to say that George
Francis Hayden has been dead for two years."
The Thinking Machine rose suddenly and glared at the reporter. There was
a tense silence, broken at last by a chuckle from Detective Mallory.
"Dead?" repeated the scientist incredulously. "Do you _know_ that?"
"Yes, I--I know it."
The Thinking Machine stood for another moment squinting at him, then,
turning, left the room.