"What we want to find out now," the reporter said, "is the name of the manufacturer of that particular brand of parchment paper. Hello!—here it is. 'Royal Parchment Paper Company, 158 Beekman Street.'"
"Indeed?" I said, as calmly as I could.
"Now, one of us must take the scroll, and call on this firm, the first thing in the morning," he suggested. "They may be able to throw some light on the matter."
"I'll go," I quickly volunteered.
"Good," said McGinity. "Our job now is to find and bring to light the actual perpetrator of this fraud. This water-mark in the parchment may put us on his trail. That's about the situation, isn't it?"
"As far as I'm concerned," I replied, "that is the situation. But I'm afraid we're facing a many-sided problem. You must remember that we are dealing with events so stupendous that they can hardly be conceived by the human mind."
"But we're in possession of one thread now that may guide us through the maze," said McGinity, settling down finally in a chair opposite me. "I admit that what we have to deal with is most extraordinary—almost inexplicable—" he went on; "but here's this much to remember—your own idea, by the way—if this mystery was contrived and worked out by a human mind, then a human mind can discover what it is."
"Quite right," I agreed. "And if the person who made the scroll is the same one who sent those Martian radio messages, and dropped the rocket—"
"Dropped?" McGinity exclaimed, interrupting me. "Of course, that rocket was dropped on the water-front. Dropped! That idea had never occurred to me before. It wouldn't surprise me, Mr. Royce, if you've hit on another clue."
"Yes?" I said, a little bewildered. "Anyway," I began again, "if it is the same person, then I'm sure we can trace him."