It was very late that night—after twelve, in fact—when Hutchinson Hatch called on The Thinking Machine with excitement evident in tone, manner, and act. He was accustomed to calling at any hour; now he found the scientist at work as if it were midday.
"The worst has happened," the reporter told him.
The Thinking Machine didn't look around.
"Detective Mallory and two of his men saw Miss Meredith this evening about nine o'clock," Hatch hurried on, "and bully-ragged her into a confession."
"What sort of a confession?"
"She admitted that she was in the automobile on the night of the ball and that——"
"Mr. Herbert was with her," the scientist supplied.
"Yes."
"And—what else?"