"You might as well remove the silver box," The Thinking Machine went on mercilessly. "There is no further need of the connection."
Miss Winthrop glanced down at the telephone extension on her desk, and her hand darted toward it. The silver "vanity" box was directly under the receiver, supporting it, so that all weight was removed from the hook, and the line was open. She snatched the box and the receiver dropped back on the hook. The Thinking Machine turned to Grayson.
"It was Miss Winthrop," he said.
"Miss Winthrop!" exclaimed Grayson, "I can't believe it!"
"Read the paper I gave you, Mr. Grayson," directed The Thinking Machine coldly. "Perhaps that will enlighten her."
The financier opened the sheet, which had remained folded in his hand, and glanced at what was written there. Slowly he read it aloud: "Peabody—Sell ten thousand shares L. & W. at 97. McCracken Co.—Sell ten thousand shares L. & W. at 97." He read on down the list, bewildered. Then gradually, as he realized the import of what he read, there came a hardening of the lines about his mouth.
"I understand, Miss Winthrop," he said at last. "This is the substance of the orders I dictated, and in some way you made them known to persons for whom they were not intended. I don't know how you did it, of course; but I understand that you did do it, so——" He stepped to the door and opened it with grave courtesy. "You may go now."
Miss Winthrop made no plea—merely bowed and went out. Grayson stood staring after her for a moment, then turned to The Thinking Machine and motioned him to a chair. "What happened?" he asked briskly.
"Miss Winthrop is a tremendously clever woman," replied The Thinking Machine. "She neglected to tell you, however, that besides being a stenographer and typist she is also a telegraph operator. She is so expert in each of her lines that she combined the two, if I may say it that way. In other words, in writing on the typewriter, she was clever enough to be able to give the click of the machine the patterns in the Morse telegraphic code—so that another telegraph operator at the other end of the 'phone could hear her machine and translate the clicks into words."
Grayson sat staring at him incredulously. "I still don't understand," he said finally.