"Yes, that's right," he said finally, and he smiled. "His name is Pillsbury. I recall it now."
"And what made you recall it?"
"I noticed an advertisement in a magazine with the name in large letters. It instantly came to me that that was Doane's real name."
"Thanks," remarked the scientist. "And the woman--who is she?"
"What woman?" asked Manning.
"Never mind, then. I am deeply obliged for your information. I don't suppose you know anything else about it?"
"No," said Manning. He was a little bewildered, and after awhile went away.
For an hour or more The Thinking Machine sat with finger tips pressed together staring at the ceiling. His meditations were interrupted by Martha.
"Another telegram, sir."
The Thinking Machine took it eagerly. It was from the manager of the Lincoln Club in Pittsburg: