"Am I?" inquired the young man, smilingly.
He drew a crumpled handkerchief from his hip pocket, shook it out, and wiped his forehead.
"Ah!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine, suddenly.
He had caught the faint, subtle perfume of violets--an odor identical with that on the handkerchief found in front of the safe.
III.
The Thinking Machine led the way back to the private office of the cashier, with President Fraser, Cashier West and Hatch following.
"Is it possible for anyone to overhear us here?" he asked.
"No," replied the president. "The directors meet here."
"Could anyone outside hear that, for instance?" and with a sudden sweep of his hand he upset a heavy chair.
"I don't know," was the astonished reply. "Why?"