"When did you last see Mr. Willis have a revolver?"
"I know nothing of any revolver. I know only that Victor Willis is innocent as you are, and that I love him. Whatever has become of Grace Field I don't know."
Tears leaped suddenly to her eyes, and, turning, she left the room. After a moment they heard the outer door slam as she passed out. Hatch turned to the scientist with a question in his eyes.
"Did you smell anything like chloroform or ether when you were in St. George's apartments?" asked The Thinking Machine as he arose.
"No," said Hatch. "I only noticed that the place seemed close, and there was an odor of Chinese incense--joss sticks--which was almost stifling."
The Thinking Machine looked at the reporter quickly, but said nothing. Instead, he passed out of the room, to return a few minutes later with his hat and coat on.
"Where are we going?" asked Hatch.
"To St. George's studio," was the answer.
Just then the telephone bell in the next room rang. The scientist answered it in person.
"Your City Editor," he called to Hatch.