"Or perhaps sent something out—carbon copies of the letters?"
"No."
"Or called up a friend on the telephone?" continued The Thinking Machine quietly.
"Nor that," retorted Grayson.
"Or signaled to someone through the window?"
"No," said the financier again. "She finished the letters, then remained quietly at her desk, reading a book. She hardly moved for two hours."
The Thinking Machine lowered his eyes and glared straight into those of the financier. "Someone listened at the window?" he went on after a moment.
"No. It is sixteen stories up, fronting the street, and there is no fire escape."
"Or the door?"
"If you knew the arrangement of my offices, you would see how utterly impossible that would be, because—"