"And Miss Stanford?" asked Hatch.
"Never mind her," replied The Thinking Machine. "I may see her myself. These other things are of immediate consequence. The minute you satisfy yourself come back to me. Quickness on your part may prevent a tragedy."
The reporter went away hurriedly. At four o'clock that afternoon he returned. The Thinking Machine greeted him; he held a piece of letter-paper in his hand.
"Well?" he asked.
"The handwriting is Willis's," said Hatch, without hesitation. "I saw a sample--it is identical, and the paper on which he writes is identical."
The scientist grunted.
"I also saw some of St. George's writing," the reporter went on, as if he were reciting a lesson. "It is wholly dissimilar."
The Thinking Machine nodded.
"Willis has no revolver that anyone ever heard of," Hatch continued. "He was at dinner with several of his fellow employees last night, and left the restaurant at eight o'clock."
"Been drinking?"