The problem of Cell 13
was not what The Thinking Machine meant. Hatch had the word of Miss
Dow's maid for it that while Miss Dow wore this belt at the time of
her elopement, it was underneath the automobile coat.
"Have you heard anything more from Miss Dow?" asked Hatch.
"Yes," responded the maid. "Her father received a letter from her this
morning. It was from Chicago, and said that she and her husband were
on their way to San Francisco and that the family might not hear from
them again until after the honeymoon."
"How? What?" gasped Hatch. His brain was in a muddle. "She in Chicago,
_with--her husband?_"
"Yes, sir."
"Is there any question about the letter being in her handwriting?"
"Not at all," replied the maid, positively. "It's perfectly natural,"
she concluded.
"But----" Hatch began, then he stopped.
For one fleeting instant he was tempted to tell the maid that the man
whom the family had supposed was Miss Dow's husband was lying
unconscious at a farmhouse not a great way from the Monarch Inn, and
that there was no trace of Miss Dow. Now this letter! His head whirled
when he thought of it.
"Is there any question but that Miss Dow did elope with Mr. Mason and
not some other man?" he asked.
"It was Mr. Mason, all right," the girl responded. "I knew there was
to be an elopement and helped arrange for Miss Dow to go," she added,
confidentially. "It was Mr. Mason, I know."
Then Hatch rushed away and telephoned to The Thinking Machine. He
simply couldn't hold this latest development until he saw him again.
"We've made a mistake," he bellowed through the 'phone.
"What's that?" demanded The Thinking Machine, aggressively.
"Miss Dow is in Chicago with her husband--family has received a letter
from her--that man out there with the smashed head can't be Mason,"
the reporter explained hurriedly.
"Dear me, dear me!" said The Thinking Machine over the wire. And
again: "Dear me!"
"Her maid told me all about it," Hatch rushed on, "that is, all about
her aiding Miss Dow to elope, and all that. Must be some mistake."
"Dear me!" again came in the voice of The Thinking Machine. Then: "Is
Miss Dow a blonde or brunette?"
The irrelevancy of the question caused Hatch to smile in spite of
himself.
"A brunette," he answered. "A pronounced brunette."
"Then," said The Thinking Machine, as if this were merely dependent
upon or a part of the blonde or brunette proposition, "get immediately
a picture of Mason somewhere--I suppose you can--go out and see that
man with the smashed head and see if it is Mason. Let me know by
'phone."
"All right," said Hatch, rather hopelessly. "But it is impossible----"
"Don't say that," snapped The Thinking Machine. "Don't say that," he
repeated, angrily. "It annoys me exceedingly."
It was nearly ten o'clock that night when Hatch again 'phoned to The
Thinking Machine. He had found a photograph, he had seen the man with
the smashed head. They were the same. He so informed The Thinking
Machine.
"Ah," said that individual, quietly. "Did you find out about any gift
that Reid might have made to Miss Dow?" he asked.
"Yes, a monogram belt buckle of gold," was the reply.
Hatch was over his head and knew it. He was finding out things and
answering questions, which by the wildest stretch of his imagination,
he could not bring to bear on the matter in hand--the mystery
surrounding the murder of Marguerite Melrose, an actress.
"Meet me at my place here at one o'clock day after to-morrow,"
instructed The Thinking Machine. "Publish as little as you can of this
matter until you see me. It's extraordinary--perfectly extraordinary.
Good-by."
That was all. Hatch groped hopelessly through the tangle, seeking one
fact that he could grasp. Then it occurred to him that he had never
ascertained when Reid intended to return West, and he went to the
Hotel Teutonic for this purpose. The clerk informed him that Reid was
to start in a couple of days. Reid had hardly left his room since
Curtis was locked up.
Precisely at one o'clock on the second day following, as directed by
The Thinking Machine, Hatch appeared and was ushered in. The Thinking
Machine was bowed over a retort in his laboratory, and he looked up at
the reporter with a question in his eyes.
"Oh, yes," he said, as if recollecting for the first time the purpose
of the visit. "Oh, yes."
He led the way to the reception room and gave instructions to Martha
to admit whoever inquired for him; then he sat down and leaned back in
his chair. After awhile the bell rang and two men were shown in. One
was Charles Reid; the other a detective whom Hatch knew.
"Ah, Mr. Reid," said The Thinking Machine. "I'm sorry to have troubled
you, but there were some questions I wanted to ask before you went
away. If you'll wait just a moment."
Reid bowed and took a seat.
"Is he under arrest?" Hatch inquired of the detective, aside.
"Oh, no," was the reply. "Oh, no. Detective Mallory told me to ask him
to come up. I don't know what for."
After awhile the bell rang again. Then Hatch heard Detective Mallory's
voice in the hall and the rustle of skirts; then the voice of another
man. Mallory appeared at the door after a moment; behind him came two
veiled women and a man who was a stranger to Hatch.
"I'm going to make a request, Mr. Mallory," said The Thinking Machine.
"I know it will be a cause of pleasure to Mr. Reid. It is that you
release Mr. Curtis, who is charged with the murder of Miss Melrose."
"Why?" demanded Mallory, quickly. Hatch and Reid stared at the
scientist curiously.
"This," said The Thinking Machine.
The two women simultaneously removed their veils.
One was Miss Marguerite Melrose.
VI.
"Miss Melrose that was," explained The Thinking Machine, "now Mrs.
Donald MacLean. This, gentlemen, is her husband. This other young
woman is Miss Dow's maid. Together I believe we will be able to throw
some light on the death of the young woman who was found in Mr.
Curtis's automobile."
Stupefied with amazement, Hatch stared at the woman whose reported
murder had startled and puzzled the entire country. Reid had shown
only slight emotion--an emotion of a kind hard to read. Finally he
advanced to Miss Melrose, or Mrs. MacLean, with outstretched hand.
"Marguerite," he said.
The girl looked deeply into his eyes, then took the proffered hand.
"And Jack Curtis?" she asked.
"If Detective Mallory will have him brought here we can immediately
end his connection with this case so far as your murder is concerned,"
said The Thinking Machine.
"Who--who was murdered, then?" asked Hatch. "A little circumstantial
development is necessary to show," replied The Thinking Machine.
Detective Mallory retired into another room and 'phoned to have Curtis
brought up. On his assurance that there had been a mistake which he
would explain later, Curtis set out from his cell with a detective and
within a few minutes appeared in the room, wonderingly.
One look at Marguerite and he was beside her, gripping her hand. For a
time he didn't speak; it was not necessary. Then the actress, with
flushed face, indicated MacLean, who had stood quietly by, an
interested but silent spectator.
"My husband, Jack," she said.
Quick comprehension swept over Curtis and he looked from one to
another. Then he approached MacLean with outstretched hand.
"I congratulate you," he said, with deep feeling. "Make her happy."
Reid had stood unobserved meanwhile. Hatch's glance traveled from one
to another of the persons in the room. He was seeking to explain that
expression on Reid's face, vainly thus far. There was a little pause
as Reid and Curtis came face to face, but neither spoke.
"Now, please, what does it all mean?" asked MacLean, who up to this
time had been silent.
"It's a strange study of the human brain," said The Thinking Machine,
"and incidentally a little proof that circumstantial evidence is
absolutely worthless. For instance, here it was proven that Miss
Melrose was dead, that Mr. Curtis was jealous of her, that while
drinking he had threatened her--this I learned at the Hotel Yarmouth,
but now it is unimportant--that his knife killed her, and finally that
there was blood on one of his handkerchiefs. This is the complete
circumstantial chain; and Miss Melrose appears, alive.
"Suppose we take the case from the point where I entered it. It will
be interesting as showing the methods of a brain which reduces all
things to tangible strands which may be woven into a whole, then
fitting them together. My knowledge of the affair began when Mr.
Curtis was brought to these apartments by Mr. Hatch. Mr. Curtis was
ill. I gave him a stimulant; he aroused suddenly and shrieked: 'I saw
her. There was a dagger in her heart. Marguerite!'
"My first impression was that he was insane; my next that he had
delirium tremens, because I saw he had been drinking heavily. Later I
saw it was temporary mental collapse due to excessive drinking and a
tremendous strain. Instantly I associated Marguerite with this--'a
dagger in her heart.' Therefore, Marguerite dead or wounded. 'I saw
her.' Dead or alive? These, then, were my first impressions.
"I asked Mr. Hatch what had happened. He told me Miss Melrose, an
actress, had been murdered the night before. I suggested suicide,
because suicide is always the first possibility in considering a case
of violent death which is not obviously accidental. He insisted that
he believed it was murder, and told me why. It was all he knew of the
story.
"There was the stopping of The Green Dragon at the Monarch Inn for
gasoline; the disappearance Of Mr. Curtis, as he told the police, to
hunt for gasoline--partly proven by the fact that he brought it back;
the statement of Mr. Reid to the police that he had gone into the inn
for a hot Scotch, and confirmation of this. Above all, here was the
opportunity for the crime--if it were committed by any person other
than Curtis or Reid.
"Then Mr. Hatch repeated to me the statement made to him by Dr.
Leonard. The first thing that impressed me here was the fact that
Curtis had, in taking the girl into the house, carried her by the
shoulders. Instantly I saw, knowing that the girl had been stabbed
through the heart, how it would be possible for blood to get on Mr.
Curtis's hands, thence on his handkerchief or clothing. This was
before I knew or considered his connection with the death at all.
"Curtis told Dr. Leonard that the girl was Miss Melrose. The body
wasn't yet cold, therefore death must have come just before it reached
the doctor. Then the knife was discovered. Here was the first tangible
working clew--a rough knife, with a blade six or seven inches long.
Obviously not the sort of knife a woman would carry about with her.
Therefore, where did it come from?
"Curtis tried to induce the doctor to let him have the knife; probably
Curtis's knife, possibly Reid's. Why Curtis's? The nature of the
knife, a blade six or seven inches long, indicated a knife used for
heavy work, not for a penknife. Under ordinary circumstances such a
knife would not have been carried by Reid; therefore it may have
belonged to Curtis's auto kit. He might have carried it in his pocket.
"Thus, considering _that it was Miss Melrose who was dead_, we had
these facts: Dead only a few minutes, possibly stabbed while the two
men were away from the car; Curtis's knife used--not a knife from any
other auto kit, mind you, _because Curtis recognized this knife_. Two
and two make four, not sometimes, but all the time."
Every person in the room was leaning forward, eagerly listening;
Reid's face was perfectly white. The Thinking Machine finally arose,
walked over and ran his fingers through Reid's hair, then sat again
squinting at the ceiling. He spoke as if to himself.