Miss Clarke, deathly white and half fainting, threw up her hands and sank without a sound into the arms of President Fraser. There she burst into tears.
"It is an outrage," she sobbed. She clung to President Fraser, her arms flung upward and her face buried on his bosom. He was soothing her with fatherly words, and stroked her hair awkwardly. The Thinking Machine finished the search of Dunston. Nothing! Then Miss Clarke roused herself and dried her eyes.
"Of course I will have to agree," she said, with a flash of anger in her eyes.
Miss Willis was weeping, but, like Dunston, she was compelled to yield, and the three women went into an adjoining room. There was a tense silence until they reappeared. Each shook her head. The Thinking Machine nearly looked disappointed.
"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "Now, Mr. Fraser." He started toward the president, then paused to pick up a scarf pin.
"This is yours," he said. "I saw it fall," and he made as if to search the aged man.
"Well, do you really think it necessary in my case?" asked the president, in consternation, as he drew back, nervously. "I--I am the president, you know."
"The others were searched in your presence, I will search you in their presence," said The Thinking Machine, tartly.
"But--but----" the president stammered.
"Are you afraid?" the scientist demanded.