There was tense silence for a moment. Dunston was the first to speak.
"This is all a bluff," he said. "I think, Mr. Fraser, there are some
explanations and apologies due to all of us, particularly to Miss
Clarke and Miss Willis," he added, as an afterthought. "It is
humiliating, and no good has been done. I had intended asking Miss
Clarke to be my wife, and now I assert my right to speak for her. I
demand an apology."
Carried away by his own anger and by the pleading face of Miss Clarke
and the pain there, the young man turned fiercely on The Thinking
Machine. Bewilderment was on the faces of the two banking officials.
"You feel that an explanation is due?" asked The Thinking Machine,
meekly.
"Yes," thundered the young man.
"You shall have it," was the quiet answer, and the stooped figure of
the scientist moved across the room to the door. He said something to
some one outside and returned.
"Again I'll give you a chance for a confession," he said. "It will
shorten your prison term." He was speaking to no one in particular;
yet to them all. "The two men who blew the safe are now about to enter
this room. After they appear it will be too late."
Startled glances were exchanged, but no one stirred. Then came a knock
at the door. Silently The Thinking Machine looked about with a
question in his eyes. Still silence, and he threw open the door. Three
policemen in uniform and Detective Mallory entered, bringing two
prisoners.
"These are the men who blew the safe," The Thinking Machine explained,
indicating the prisoners. "Does anyone here recognize them?"
Apparently no one did, for none spoke.
"Do you recognize any person in this room?" he asked of the prisoners.
One of them laughed shortly and said something aside to the other, who
smiled. The Thinking Machine was nettled and when he spoke again there
was a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
"It may enlighten at least one of you in this room," he said, "to tell
you that these two men are Frank Seranno and Gustave Meyer, Mr. Meyer
being a pupil and former associate of the notorious bank burglar,
William Dineen. You may lock them up now," he said to Detective
Mallory. "They will confess later."
"Confess!" exclaimed one of them. Both laughed.
The prisoners were led out and Detective Mallory returned to lave in
the font of analytical wisdom, although he would not have expressed it
in those words. Then The Thinking Machine began at the beginning and
told his story.
"I undertook to throw some light on this affair a few hours after its
occurrence, at the request of President Fraser, who had once been able
to do me a very great favor," he explained. "I went to the bank--you
all saw me there--looked over the premises, saw how the thieves had
entered the building, looked at the safe and at the spot where the
handkerchief was found. To my mind it was demonstrated clearly that
the handkerchief appeared there at the time of the burglary. I
inquired if there was any draught through the office, seeking in that
way to find if the handkerchief might have been lost at some other
place in the bank, overlooked by the sweeper and blown to the spot
where it was found. There was no draught.
"Next I asked for the handkerchief. Mr. Fraser asked me into his
office to look at it. I saw a woman--Miss Clarke it was--in there and
declined to go. Instead, I examined the handkerchief outside. I don't
know that my purpose there can be made clear to you. It was a
possibility that there would be perfume on the handkerchief, and the
woman in the office might use perfume. I didn't want to confuse the
odors. Miss Clarke was not in the bank when I arrived; she had gone to
luncheon.
"Instantly I got the handkerchief I noticed the odor of
perfume--violet perfume. Perfume is used by a great many women, by
very few men. I asked how many women were employed in the bank. There
were three. I handed the scented handkerchief to Mr. Hatch, removed
all odor of the clinging perfume from my hands with my own
handkerchief and also handed that to Mr. Hatch, so as to completely
rid myself of the odor.
"Then I started through the bank and spoke to every person in it,
standing close to them so that I might catch the odor if they used it.
Miss Clarke was the first person who I found used it--but the perfume
she used was a strong rose odor. Then I went on until I came to Mr.
Dunston. The identical odor of the handkerchief he revealed to me by
drawing out his own handkerchief while I talked to him."
Dunston looked a little startled, but said nothing; instead he glanced
at Miss Clarke, who sat listening, interestedly. He could not read the
expression on her face.
"This much done," continued The Thinking Machine, "we retired to
Cashier West's office. There I knew the burglars had entered; there I
saw a powerful chemical solution had been applied to the granite
around the sockets of the protecting steel bars to soften the stone.
Its direct effect is to make it of chalklike consistency. I was also
curious to know if any noise made in that room would attract attention
in the outer office, so I upset a heavy chair, then looked outside. No
one moved or looked back; therefore no one heard.
"Here I explained to President Fraser and to Mr. West why I connected
some one in the bank with the burglary. It was because of the scent on
the handkerchief. It would be tedious to repeat the detailed
explanation I had to give them. I sent Mr. Hatch to find out, first,
if Miss Clarke here had ever used violet perfume instead of rose; also
to find out if any members of Mr. West's family used any perfume,
particularly violet. I knew that Mr. Dunston used it.
"Then I asked Mr. Fraser if he had sought to raise any large sum of
money. He told me the truth. But Mr. West did not tell me the truth in
answer to a question along the same lines. Now I know why. It was
because as cashier of the bank he was not supposed to operate in
stocks, yet he has made a fortune at it. He didn't want Fraser to know
this, and willfully misrepresented the facts.
"Then came the search. I expected to find just what was found, money,
but considerably more of it. Miss Willis objected, Mr. Dunston
objected and Miss Clarke fainted in the arms of Mr. Fraser. I read the
motives of each aright. Dunston objected because he is an egotistical
young man and, being young, is foolish. He considered it an insult.
Miss Willis objected also through a feeling of pride."
The Thinking Machine paused for a moment, locked his fingers behind
his head and leaned far back in his chair.
"Shall I tell what happened next?" he asked, "or will you tell it?"
Everyone in the room knew it was a question to the guilty person.
Which? Whom? There came no answer, and after a moment The Thinking
Machine resumed, quietly, very quietly.
"Miss Clarke fainted in Mr. Fraser's arms. While leaning against him,
and while he stroked her hair and tried to soothe her, she took from
the bosom of her loose shirtwaist a bundle of money, ten thousand
dollars, and slipped it into the inside pocket of Mr. Fraser's coat."
There was deathlike silence.
"It's a lie!" screamed the girl, and she rose to her feet with
anger-distorted face. "It's a lie!"
Dunston arose suddenly and went to her. With his arm about her he
turned defiantly to The Thinking Machine, who had not moved or altered
his position in the slightest. Dunston said nothing, because there
seemed to be nothing to say.
"Into the inside pocket of Mr. Fraser's coat," The Thinking Machine
repeated. "When she removed her arms his scarf pin clung to the lace
on one of her sleeves. That I saw. That pin could not have caught on
her sleeve where it did if her hand had not been to the coat pocket.
Having passed this sum of money--her pitiful share of the theft--she
agreed to the search."
"It's a lie!" shrieked the girl again. And her every tone and every
gesture said it was the truth. Dunston gazed into her eyes with horror
in his own and his arm fell limply. Still he said nothing.
"Of course nothing was found," the quiet voice went on. "When I
discovered the bank notes in Mr. Fraser's pocket I smelled of
them--seeking the odor, this time not of violet perfume, but of rose
perfume. I found it."
Suddenly the girl whose face had shown only anger and defiance leaned
over with her head in her hands and wept bitterly. It was a
confession. Dunston stood beside her, helplessly; finally his hand was
slowly extended and he stroked her hair.
"Go on, please," he said to Professor Van Dusen, meekly. His suffering
was no less than hers.
"These facts were important, but not conclusive," said The Thinking
Machine, "so next, with Mr. Hatch's aid here, I ascertained other
things about Miss Clarke. I found out that when she went out to
luncheon that day she purchased some powerful rose perfume; that,
contrary to custom, she went home; that she used it liberally in her
room; and that she destroyed a large bottle of violet perfume which
you, Mr. Dunston, had given her. I ascertained also that her room was
disarranged, particularly the couch. I assume from this that when she
went to the office in the morning she did not have the money about
her; that she left it hidden in the couch; that through fear of its
discovery she rushed back home to get it; that she put it inside her
shirtwaist, and there she had it when the search was made. Am I right,
Miss Clarke?"
The girl nodded her head and looked up with piteous, tear-stained
face.
"That night Miss Clarke called on me. She came ostensibly to tell me
that the package of money, ten thousand dollars, had disappeared
again. I knew that previously by telephone, and I knew, too, that she
had that money then about her. She has it now. Will you give it up?"
Without a word the girl drew out the bundle of money, ten thousand
dollars. Detective Mallory took it, held it, amazed for an instant,
then passed it to The Thinking Machine, who sniffed at it.
"An odor of strong rose perfume," he said. Then: "Miss Clarke also
told me that she had worked in a bank which had been robbed under
circumstances identical with this by one William Dineen, and expressed
the belief that he had something to do with this. Mr. Hatch
ascertained that two of Dineen's pals were living in Cambridge. He
found their rooms and searched them, later giving the address to the
police.
"Now, why did Miss Clarke tell me that? I considered it in all points.
She told me either to aid honestly in the effort to catch the thief,
or to divert suspicion in another direction. Knowing as much as I did
then, I reasoned it was to divert suspicion from you, Mr. Dunston, and
from herself possibly. Dineen is in prison, and was there three months
before this robbery; I believed she knew that. His pals are the two
men in the other room; they are the men who aided Dineen in the
robbery of the Hartford bank, with Miss Clarke's assistance; they are
the men who robbed the Ralston National with her assistance. She
herself indicated her profit from the Hartford robbery to me by a
remark she made indicating that she had not found it necessary to work
for two years from the time she left the Hartford bank until she
became Mr. Fraser's secretary."
There was a pause. Miss Clarke sat sobbing, while Dunston stood near
her studying the toe of his shoe. After awhile the girl became more
calm.
"Miss Clarke, would you like to explain anything?" asked The Thinking
Machine. His voice was gentle, even deferential.
"Nothing," she said, "except admit it all--all. I have nothing to
conceal. I went to the bank, as I went to the bank in Hartford, for
the purpose of robbery, with the assistance of those men in the next
room. We have worked together for years. I planned this robbery; I had
the opportunity, and availed myself of it, to put a solution on the
sockets of the steel bars of the window in Mr. West's room, which
would gradually destroy the granite and make it possible to pull out
the bars. This took weeks, but I could reach that room safely from Mr.
Fraser's.
"I had the opportunity to leave the window unfastened and did so. I
dressed in men's clothing and accompanied those two men to the bank.
We crept in the window, after pulling the bars out. The men attacked
the night watchman and bound him. The handkerchief of Mr. West's I
happened to pick up in the office one afternoon a month ago and took
it home. There it got the odor of perfume from being in a bureau with
my things. On the night we went to the bank I needed something to put
about my neck and used it. In the bank I dropped it. We had arranged
all details at night, when I met them."
She stopped and looked at Dunston, a long, lingering look, that sent
the blood to his face. It was not an appeal; it was nothing save the
woman love in her, mingled with desperation.
"I intended to leave the bank in a little while," she went on. "Not
immediately, because I was afraid that would attract attention, but
after a few weeks. And then, too, I wanted to get forever out of sight
of this man," and she indicated Dunston.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I loved you as no woman ever loved a man before," she said,
"and I was not worthy. There was another reason, too--I am married
already. This man, Gustave Meyer, is my husband."
She paused and fumbled nervously at the veil fastening at her throat.
Silence lay over the room; The Thinking Machine reached behind him and
picked up the shabby-looking gripsack which had passed unnoticed.
"Are there any more questions?" the girl asked, at last.
"I think not," said The Thinking Machine.
"And, Mr. Dunston, you will give me credit for some good, won't
you--some good in that I loved you?" she pleaded.
"My God!" he exclaimed in a sudden burst of feeling.
"Look out!" shouted The Thinking Machine.
He had seen the girl's hand fly to her hat, saw it drawn suddenly
away, saw something slender flash at her breast. But it was too late.
She had driven a heavy hat pin straight through her breast, piercing
the heart. She died in the arms of the man she loved, with his tears
on her face.
Detective Mallory appeared before the two prisoners in an adjoining
room.
"Miss Clarke has confessed," he said.
"Well, the little devil!" exclaimed Meyer. "I knew some day she would
throw us. I'll kill her!"
"It isn't necessary," remarked Mallory.
* * * * * *
In the room where the girl lay The Thinking Machine pushed with his
foot the shabby-looking grip toward President Fraser and West.
"There's the money," he said.
"Where--how did you get it?"
"Ask Mr. Hatch."
"Professor Van Dusen told me to search the rooms of those men in
there, find the shabbiest looking bag or receptacle that was securely
locked, and bring it to him. I--I did so. I found it under the bed,
but I didn't know what was in it until he opened it."