Half an hour later The Thinking Machine walked in, unannounced, upon
Dick Herbert. The front door had not been locked; Blair was somewhere in
the rear. Herbert, in some surprise, glanced up at his visitor just in
time to see him plank himself down solidly into a chair.
"Mr. Herbert," the scientist began, "I have gone out of my way to prove
to the police that you were not in the automobile with Miss Meredith,
and that you did not steal the gold plate found in your possession. Now,
I happen to know the name of the thief, and----"
"And if you mention it to one living soul," Dick added suddenly, hotly,
"I shall forget myself and--and----"
"His name is George Francis Hayden," the scientist continued.
Dick started a little and straightened up; the menace dropped from him
and he paused to gaze curiously into the wizened face before him. After
a moment he drew a sigh of deep relief.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Oh!"
"I know that that isn't who you thought it was," resumed the other, "but
the fact remains that Hayden is the man with whom Miss Meredith
unwittingly eloped, and that Hayden is the man who actually stole the
plate and jewels. Further, the fact remains that Hayden----"
"Is dead," Dick supplemented grimly. "You are talking through your----"
He coughed a little. "You are talking without any knowledge of what you
are saying."
"He can't be dead," remarked the scientist calmly.
"But he _is_ dead!" Dick insisted.
"He can't be dead," snapped the other abruptly. "It's perfectly silly to
suppose such a thing. Why, I have proven absolutely, by the simplest
rules of logic, that he stole the gold plate, therefore he cannot be
dead. It's silly to say so."
Dick wasn't quite certain whether to be angry or amused. He decided to
hold the matter in abeyance for the moment and see what other strange
thing would develop.
"How long has he been dead?" continued the scientist.
"About two years."
"You _know_ it?"
"Yes, I know it."
"_How_ do you know it?"
"Because I attended his funeral," was the prompt reply. Dick saw a
shadow of impatience flash into his visitor's face and instantly pass.
"How did he die?" queried the scientist.
"He was lost from his catboat," Dick answered. "He had gone out sailing,
alone, while in a bathing-suit. Several hours after the boat drifted in
on the tide without him. Two or three weeks later the body was
recovered."
"Ah!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine.
Then, for half an hour or so, he talked, and--as he went on, incisively,
pointedly, dramatically, even, at times--Dick Herbert's eyes opened
wider and wider. At the end he rose and gripped the scientist's slender
white fingers heartily in his own with something approaching awe in his
manner. Finally he put on his hat and they went out together.
That evening at eight o'clock Detective Mallory, Hutchinson Hatch, Mr.
Randolph, Mr. Meredith, Mr. Greyton, and Dollie Meredith gathered in a
parlour of the Greyton home by request of The Thinking Machine. They
were waiting for something--no one knew exactly what.
Finally there came a tinkle at the bell and The Thinking Machine
entered. Behind him came Dick Herbert, Dr. Clarence Walpole, and a
stranger. Mr. Meredith glanced up quickly at Herbert, and Dollie lifted
her chin haughtily with a stony stare which admitted of no compromise.
Dick pleaded for recognition with his eyes, but it was no use, so he sat
down where he could watch her unobserved.
Singular expressions flitted over the countenance of the Supreme
Intelligence. Right here, now, he knew the earth was to be jerked out
from under him and he was not at all certain that there would be
anything left for him to cling to. This first impression was
strengthened when The Thinking Machine introduced Doctor Walpole with an
ostentatious squint at Mr. Mallory. The detective set his teeth hard.
The Thinking Machine sat down, stretched out his slender legs, turned
his eyes upward, and adjusted his fingers precisely, tip to tip. The
others watched him anxiously.
"We will have to go back a few years to get the real beginning of the
events which have culminated so strangely within the past week," he
said. "This was a close friendship of three young men in college. They
were Mr. Herbert here, a freshman, and Harry Meredith and George Francis
Hayden, juniors. This friendship, not an unusual one in college, was
made somewhat romantic by the young men styling themselves The Triangle.
They occupied the same apartments and were exclusive to a degree. Of
necessity Mr. Herbert was drawn from that exclusiveness, to a certain
extent by his participation in football."
A germ of memory was working in Hatch's mind.
"At someone's suggestion three triangular watch charms were made,
identical in every way save for initials on the back. They bore a symbol
which was meaningless except to The Triangle. They were made to order
and are, therefore, the only three of the kind in the world. Mr. Herbert
has one now on his watch chain, with his own initials; there is another
with the initials 'G. F. H.' in the lot of jewelry Mr. Mallory recovered
from Mr. Herbert. The third is worn by Harry Meredith, who is now in
Buenos Ayres. The American Consul there has confirmed, by cable, that
fact.
"In the senior year the three young men of The Triangle were concerned
in the mysterious disappearance of a valuable diamond ring. It was
hushed up in college after it seemed established that Mr. Herbert was a
thief. Knowing his own innocence and seeing what seemed to be an
exclusive opportunity for Harry Meredith to have done what was charged,
Mr. Herbert laid the matter to him, having at that time an interview
with Harry's father. The result of that interview was more than ever to
convince Mr. Meredith of Mr. Herbert's guilt. As a matter of fact, the
thief in that case was George Francis Hayden."
There were little murmurs of astonishment, and Mr. Meredith turned and
stared at Dick Herbert. Dollie gave him a little glance out of a corner
of her eye, smiled, then sat up primly.
"This ended The Triangle," resumed the scientist. "A year or so later
Mr. Herbert met Miss Meredith. About two years ago George Francis Hayden
was reported drowned from his catboat. This was confirmed, apparently,
by the finding of his body, and an insurance company paid over a large
sum--I think it was $25,000--to a woman who said she was his wife. But
George Francis Hayden was not drowned; he is alive now. It was a
carefully planned fraud against the insurance company, and it succeeded.
"This, then, was the situation on last Thursday--the night of the
masked ball at Seven Oaks--except that there had grown up a love affair
between Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert. Naturally, the father opposed
this because of the incident in college. Both Miss Meredith and Mr.
Herbert had invitations to that ball. It was an opportunity for an
elopement and they accepted it. Mr. Herbert sent word to her what
costume to wear; she did not know the nature of his.
"On Thursday afternoon Miss Meredith sent her jewel-casket, with
practically all her jewels, to Mr. Herbert. She wanted them, naturally;
they probably planned a trip abroad. The maid in this house took the
casket and gave it into Mr. Herbert's own hands. Am I right?" He turned
squarely and squinted at Dollie.
"Yes," she gasped quickly. She smiled distractingly upon her father and
he made some violent remarks to himself.
"At this point, Fate, in the guise of a masked Burglar, saw fit to step
into the affair," the scientist went on after a moment. "About
nine-thirty, Thursday evening, while Mr. Herbert was alone, the masked
Burglar, George Francis Hayden, entered Mr. Herbert's house, possibly
thinking everyone was away. There, still masked, he met Mr. Herbert,
who--by something the Burglar said and by the triangular charm he
wore--recognised him as _Harry Meredith_. Remember, he thought he knew
George Francis Hayden was dead.
"There were some words and a personal encounter between the two men.
George Francis Hayden fired a shot which struck Mr. Herbert in the right
shoulder--in front--took the jewel-casket in which Mr. Herbert had
placed his card of invitation to the ball, and went away, leaving Mr.
Herbert senseless on the floor."
Dollie's face blanched suddenly and she gasped. When she glanced
involuntarily at Dick she read the love-light in his eyes, and her
colour returned with a rush.
"Several hours later, when Mr. Herbert recovered consciousness," the
unruffled voice went on, "he went to Doctor Walpole, the nearest
physician, and there the bullet was extracted and the wound dressed.
The ball was thirty-two calibre?"
Doctor Walpole nodded.
"And Mr. Cunningham's revolver carried a thirty-eight," added the
scientist. "Now we go back to the Burglar. He found the invitation in
the casket, and the bold scheme, which later he carried out so
perfectly, came to him as an inspiration. He went to the ball just as he
was. Nerve, self-possession, and humour took him through. We know the
rest of that.
"Naturally, in the circumstances, Mr. Herbert, believing that Harry
Meredith was the thief, would say nothing to bring disgrace upon the
name of the girl he loved. Instead, he saw Miss Meredith, who would not
accept his denial then, and in order to get her first--explanations
might come later--he confessed to the theft, whereupon they planned the
second elopement.
"When Miss Meredith returned the plate by express there was no
anticipation of a second theft. Here is where we get a better
understanding of the mettle of the real Burglar--George Francis Hayden.
He went back and got the plate from Seven Oaks. Instantly that upset the
second elopement plan. Then Mr. Herbert undertook the search, got a
clew, followed it, and recovered not only the plate, but a great lot of
jewels."
There was a pause. A skyrocket ascended in Hatch's mind and burst,
illuminating the whole tangled story. Detective Mallory sat dumbly,
thinking harsh words. Mr. Meredith arose, went over to Dick Herbert, and
solemnly shook his hand, after which he sat down again. Dollie smiled
charmingly.