The Thinking Machine went quickly to the door, opened it softly and peered out. Then he closed the door again.
"I suppose I may speak with absolute frankness?" he inquired.
"Certainly," responded the old banker, almost startled. "Certainly."
"You have presented an abstract problem," The Thinking Machine went on, "and I presume you want a solution of it, no matter where it hits?"
"Certainly," the president again assured him, but his tone expressed a grave, haunting fear.
"In that case," and The Thinking Machine turned to the reporter, "Mr. Hatch, I want you to ascertain several things for me. First, I want to know if Miss Clarke uses or has ever used violet perfume--if so, when she ceased using it."
"Yes," said the reporter. The bank officials exchanged wondering looks.
"Also, Mr. Hatch," and the scientist squinted with his strange eyes straight into the face of the cashier, "go to the home of Mr. West, here, see for yourself his laundry mark, and ascertain beyond any question if he has ever, or any member of his family has ever, used violet perfume."
The cashier flushed suddenly.
"I can answer that," he said, hotly. "No."