"A moment, madam," said The Thinking Machine. He stepped to the door through which Hatch and Doane had gone, and said something. One of them appeared in the door. It was Hutchinson Hatch.
"John, John, my darling husband," and the woman flung her arms about Hatch's neck. "Don't you know me?"
With blushing face Hatch looked over her shoulder into the eyes of The Thinking Machine, who stood briskly rubbing his hands. Never before in his long acquaintance with the scientist had Hatch seen him smile.
V.
For a time there was silence, broken only by sobs, as the woman clung frantically to Hatch, with her face buried on his shoulder. Then:
"Don't you remember me?" she asked again and again. "Your wife? Don't you remember me?"
Hatch could still see the trace of a smile on the scientist's face, and said nothing.
"You are positive this gentleman is your husband?" inquired The Thinking Machine, finally.
"Oh, I know," the woman sobbed. "Oh, John, don't you remember me?" She drew away a little and looked deeply into the reporter's eyes. "Don't you remember me, John?"
"Can't say that I ever saw you before," said Hatch, truthfully enough. "I--I--fact is----"