“All very nice for the radium,” remarked Craig cheerfully. “But the fellow had only to use an electric drill and the gram or more of radium was his.”
“I know that—now,” ruefully persisted Denison. “But the safe was designed for us specially. The fellow got into it and got away, as far as I can see, without leaving a clue.”
“Except one, of course,” interrupted Kennedy quickly.
Denison looked at him a moment keenly, then nodded and said, “Yes—you are right. You mean one which he must bear on himself?”
“Exactly. You can’t carry a gram or more of radium bromide long with impunity. The man to look for is one who in a few days will have somewhere on his body a radium burn which will take months to heal. The very thing he stole is a veritable Frankenstein’s monster bent on the destruction of the thief himself!”
Kennedy had meanwhile picked up one of the Corporation’s circulars lying on a desk. He ran his eye down the list of names.
“So, Hartley Haughton, the broker, is one of your stockholders,” mused Kennedy.
“Not only one but the one,” replied Denison with obvious pride.
Haughton was a young man who had come recently into his fortune, and, while no one believed it to be large, he had cut quite a figure in Wall Street.
“You know, I suppose,” added Denison, “that he is engaged to Felicie Woods, the daughter of Mrs. Courtney Woods?”