"So we may safely assume," The Thinking Machine continued almost pleasantly, "that Mr. Herbert, by confessing the theft as a prank, perhaps, won back Miss Meredith's confidence; that they planned an elopement for the second time. A conversation Mr. Hatch had with Mr. Herbert immediately after Mr. Herbert saw Miss Meredith practically confirms it. Then, with matters in this shape, the real Burglar, to whom I have accredited unusual powers, stole the plate the second time—we know how."
"Herbert stole it, you mean!" blazed Detective Mallory.
"This theft came immediately on top of the reconciliation of Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert," The Thinking Machine went on steadily, without heeding the remark by the slightest sign. "Therefore, it was only natural that he should be the person most vitally interested in seeing that the plate was again returned. He undertook to do this himself. The result was that, where the police had failed, he found the plate and a lot of jewels, took them from the Burglar, and was about to return Mr. Randolph's property when the detectives walked in on him. That is why he laughed."
Detective Mallory arose from his seat and started to say something impolite. The presence of Dollie Meredith choked the words back and he swallowed hard.
"Who then," he demanded after a couple of gulps—"who do you say is the thief if Herbert is not?"
The Thinking Machine glanced up into his face, then turned to Hatch.
"Mr. Hatch, what is that name I asked you to get?"
"George Francis Hayden," was the stammering reply, "but—but——"
"Then George Francis Hayden is the thief," declared The Thinking Machine emphatically.
"But I—I started to say," Hatch blurted—"I started to say that George Francis Hayden has been dead for two years."