"Yes," interrupted The Thinking Machine, "but do you think it would be wise to arrest her now?"
"Her?" demanded Detective Mallory. "What do you know of any woman?"
"You were speaking of Miss Dorothy Meredith, weren't you?" inquired The Thinking Machine blandly. "Well, I merely asked if you thought it would be wise for your men to go so far as to arrest her."
The detective bit his cigar in two in obvious perturbation.
"How—how—did you happen to know her name?" he demanded.
"Oh, Mr. Hatch mentioned it to me," replied the scientist. "He has known of her connection with the case for several days, as well as Herbert's, and has talked to them both, I think."
The Supreme Intelligence was nearly apoplectic.
"If Hatch knew it why didn't he tell me?" he thundered.
"Really, I don't know," responded the scientist. "Perhaps," he added curtly, "he may have had some absurd notion that you would find it out for yourself. He has strange ideas like that sometimes."
And when Detective Mallory had fully recovered The Thinking Machine was gone.