“Just read the condensed paragraph at the top,” I said. “That tells the whole story. You can read the rest at your leisure.” Dorothy began in her clear voice.
“Report on Mr. Richard Regnier. Richard Regnier is the son of the late Colonel Arthur Regnier of Savannah, Georgia. He was educated at private schools, and at Princeton. His residence is Savannah, but he has spent much time in England. He specialized in chemistry when in college, and published one paper after graduation on some rare chemical compounds. He has no regular occupation, has an independent income, and spends most of his time in various philanthropic works. Is a member of several organizations, such as the Peace Society, the Tuberculosis League, etc., and of four clubs. Complete details given below. Every effort has been made to obtain his present address, but not even his bankers know it. The only fact concerning this which could be obtained was that he sailed for Europe on the Hamburg-American line, the last of June, this present year. For details of this part of the investigation, see below.”
“Well, he didn’t do it; he isn’t doing it,” said Dorothy emphatically.
“He’s got the training for it,” said Tom reflectively.
“I am sure,” began Dorothy, but I broke in.
“What’s the use of discussing it now. We can’t get hold of Regnier, anyway, and your phosphorescent ink scheme seems the next scheme to try. Here we are at the Temple. Let’s go to one of my friends who is a solicitor here, and see if we can use his office as headquarters to see the applicants.” So the discussion ended.
A brief interview with my friend, and a short debate on the best method of procedure, brought us to certain conclusions. It was really just as possible that the man had worked in London as anywhere else, and we decided to advertise in six of the morning papers for three days, asking for a man who had had some experience with phosphorescent inks, and who was capable of assisting in a scientific examination with regard to them. Applicants were to meet at the office of my friend in the Middle Temple at three o’clock on the afternoon of the third day.
For two days and a half I spent my time watching the preparations for war, and urging forward the search for Regnier. He had completely dropped out of sight. No information of his whereabouts could be obtained, and when we met at the Temple on the afternoon of the third day, we were no further ahead.
At three o’clock the waiting room of the office was full, and a long line of men extended down the stairs. The crowd bore striking witness to the horde of unemployed seeking for even the slightest chance of employment. My friend’s clerks were in despair, but somehow they managed to evolve something like order from the mass, and one by one the applicants were admitted. After the first half dozen, we saw that they could be divided into three classes,—the men who knew nothing about science and nothing about any kind of ink, the men who knew something about ink but nothing about phosphorescent ink, and the men who had been laboratory assistants to various research followers. We divided them rapidly on this basis, and in an hour had dismissed all the members of classes one and two. There were left some ten others who had been assistants in research laboratories. One by one we examined these. They had worked in various lines; the first five in chemical researches; the last five in various physical and engineering lines. Try as we might, we could get no information from any of them with regard to phosphorescent ink, or with regard to any unusual work with radio-active energy.
The last man had been dismissed and we had sat down to afternoon tea with my friend, when we heard words in the outer office. The door opened and a clerk entered. “There’s one man more, sir,” he said, “I told him he was too late, but he’s quite insistent, sir. Will you care to see him?”