"There is nothing I should like better," she declared.
"To begin with then," Lutchester said, "the pocketbook which Nikasti is supposed to have stolen from your room, the pocketbook of young Sandy Graham, which Mr. Fischer has sent to Germany, does not contain the formula of the new explosive, or any other formula that amounts to anything."
"Just how do you know that?" she demanded.
"To continue," Lutchester said, playing with a little ornament upon the mantelpiece, "you have an appointment—within half an hour, I believe—with Mr. Paul Haskall, who is a specialist in explosives, having an official position with the American Government."
She had ceased to struggle any longer with her surprise. She looked at him fixedly but remained silent.
"It is your belief," he proceeded, "that you are going to hand over to him the formula of which we were speaking."
"It is no belief," she replied. "It is certainty. I took it myself from
Graham's pocket."
Lutchester nodded.
"Good! Have you opened it?"
"I have," she declared. "It is without doubt, the formula."