"Fifteen thousand a year," said the reporter. "But he must have a large fortune. He lives like a millionaire."
"He couldn't do that on fifteen thousand dollars a year," mused the scientist. "Did he inherit any money?"
"No," was the reply. "He started as a clerk in the bank and has made himself what he is."
"That means speculation," said The Thinking Machine. "You can't save a fortune from a salary, even fifteen thousand dollars a year. Now, Mr. Hatch, find out for me all about his business connections. His source of income particularly I would like to know. Also whether or not he has recently sought to borrow or has received a large sum of money; if he got it and what he did with it. He says he has not sought such a sum. Perhaps he told the truth."
"Yes, and about Miss Clarke----"
"Yes; what about her?" asked The Thinking Machine.
"She occupies a little room in a boarding-house for women in an excellent district," the reporter explained. "She has no friends who call there, at any rate. Occasionally, however, she goes out at night and remains late."
"The perfume?" asked the scientist.
"She uses a perfume, the housekeeper tells me, but she doesn't recall just what kind it is--so many of the young women in the house use it. So I went to her room and looked. There was no perfume there. Her room was considerably disarranged, which seemed to astonish the housekeeper, who declared that she had carefully arranged it about nine o'clock. It was two when I was there."
"How was it disarranged?" asked the scientist.