Tales of the Thinking Machine

in postage stamps. It was “Mort” Dolan, an expert safe-cracker albeit a young one, and he had made a clean sweep. Nor yet was there any mystery as t

ry. He knew he had been caught fairly and squarely and no argument was possible, so he confessed, with a glow of pride at a job well

re better to begi

th the proceeds he had intended to take his wife and quietly disappear beneath a full beard and an alias in some place far removed from former haunts. But the mutability of human events is a matter of proverb. While the robbery as a robbery was a thoroughly artistic piece

explosive they were confident for they knew their man. Therefore four clever men were on watch about the poor tenement. Neither Dolan nor his w

hind a projecting stoop. But the electric light glared strongly there and Dolan recognized Detective Downey, one of many men who revolved around Detective Mallory within a limited orbit. Dolan paused on the stoop a moment and rolled a cigarette whil

hought to guard that! He tossed his cigarette away, entered the house with affected unconcern and closed the door. Running lightly through the long, unclean hall

ht which led to the opening in the roof when he stopped. From above he caught the whiff of a bad cigar, then the measured tread of heavy boots. Anothe

. He could fight for his freedom of course — even kill one, perhaps two, of the detectives who were waiting for him. But that would only mean his own death. If he tried to run for it past either of the detectives he would get a shot in th

could only hold her for a time and then would be compelled to free her for her innocence of this particular crime was beyond question. And if he were taken before she returned she would be left penniless; and that was a thin

would never get it. How? How? How? Every moment he expected a clamour at the door which would mean that the police had come for him. They knew he was cornered. Whatever he did must be

hall, then came an imperative rap on the door. The police had evidently feared to wait longer. Dolan was leaning over a sewing

” he d

Dolan,” ca

Downey?” Do

are three of us here and Cunningham is in the a

ad planned it all so differently, and the little woman would be heartbroken. Finally, with a quick backward glance at the sewing machine, he opened the door.

postulated. “I’m not crazy. My

earch, corroborated this statemen

aid. “It’s about that Thirt

almly and he held out his

ngly, “you can save us a lot of trou

ld,” was the amb

emained in the apartment and the other two men led Dolan away. In the natural course of events the pris

actual completion of the crime. The detective sat with his feet on h

is the mone

ng enough to ro

ness,” he respo

ed Detective Mallory. “We will find it,

ere was a glitter of triumph in his eyes. “On the level, between m

eenly at his prisoner and his prisoner stared back

an surmised that she

he ans

in your

hing now,” was the rejoinder. “T

ecomes a difficult subject to handle. There was the “third degree” of course, but Dolan was the kind of man who would only laugh at that; the kind of man from whom any

nd am willing to take my medicine. Nobody helped me. My wife — I know your men waited for her before they took me — my wife knows nothing on earth abo

allory’s ey

ney is,” he blustered, “or —

upted Dolan quietly. “I expect to get twenty

ve stared a

you’re going to send me. I’ve got lots of friends there — been there

s indignation by heaping invective upon the prisoner, by threats, by promises, by wheedling,

One glance told their chief that they could not enli

idea where it i

flat. There’s not one square inch of it that we didn’t go over — not one object there that we

ertain that she had nothing to do with it but she might know something and I can bluff a woman.” Detective Mallory announced that accomplishment as if

lan could in a cipher letter, or by a chance remark, inform her where the m

ically. “Dolan will not be permitted to see or talk to anyone f

is ordeal was over the net result was that Detective Mallory was convinced that she had had nothing whatever to do with the robbery, and had not the

se where he lived. In this way they hoped to get an inkling of where the money had been hidden, for the idea of the money being in the flat had been abandoned. Dolan simply wouldn’t say anything. Finally, one day, Hutchinson Hatch, re

ace of the money

sponded Detec

talk to Dolan

m you won’t,” said the detective. “B

he Thirteenth National that he seemed to take any interest in his visitors. This interest took the form of a grin. Mr. Ashe evidently had something of importance on his m

you robbed the

d of denying it

money we will, upon its recovery, exert every effort within our power to have your sentence cut in half. In other words, as I understand it, you have given the police no trouble, you have confesse

the futility of such a promise yet he was silent. The p

really get eighteen years. At the end of that time I’ll come out with one hundred and nine thousand dollars odd — rich for life and able to retire at forty-fiv

a man to whom mere prison has few terrors — a man content to remain immured for twe

after a pause. “If you’ll fix it so I get only

he corridor beyond the view of the prisoner and summo

said. “Perhaps he’

sible to arrange it, wo

“but agree to it. Get your money if y

ignant at the treachery of the thing, then

aid briskly. “Fix a two years’ sentenc

miled a

ounced and a first class lawyer arranges it for me so that the matt

must tell us that n

of smile and it informed the bank president that the duplicity contem

ired into a recess of his cell as if hi

mered Mr. Ashe. “It was a large sum and

essly. “The sooner I get two

d it be-b

ave that

rs went out fuming impotently. Mr. Ashe paused in De

Dolan,” he said caustically, “but it isn’t doing us a particle of go

it,” assented the detec

don’t you

llory had to

Thinking Machine. The distinguished scientist and logician was sitting with his head pillowed on a cushion and

ne in his perpetually irritated voice. “It seem

ee,’” explained the reporter, “and if she

ving in th

has not been permitted to write to or see his wife for fear he would let her know some way where the money is; he has not been permitted to communicate w

tes he sat with long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip, s

e bundle and would be extremely difficult to hide in a place that has been gone over so often. We may suppose, therefore, tha

ppear off the earth for a time. That time, I suppose, was when he

begin, for instance, with the idea that he contemplated flight? When? By rail or steamer? The answers to those questions would, in a way, enlighten us as to the probable location of the money, b

orter, “but he is reticent to a degree that

st. “That really doesn’t matter.

ey found him in deep abstraction. He glanced up at the intrusion wi

y is, Professor” he declared emphati

al eyes thoughtfully and the corners of his s

allory,” he said. “I have no doubt Dolan will inform me as to where t

ly. “She is living

l times to be permitted

ozens o

let him see her,” sugges

I know he will, in some way, by something he says, by a gesture, or a look in

convey knowledge of the whereabouts of the money to his wife let him talk to her — let him give her the in

rmous head of old; and he knew, too, some of the amazing results he had achieved by

carry on a conversation with him while she is beyond his sight. Have a stenographer, without the knowledge of either, take down just what is said, word for

, was doubtfully hopeful and at last he consented to the experiment. The wife was sent for and came eagerly, a stenographer was placed in the cell adjoining Dolan, and

lowered out upon Detective Mallory and Hatch. An

oing with her?

ort,” sh

t you?” he a

he wife. She was panting fiercely as she struggled t

is this, Mallory?”

llory replied, “now go ahead. You

an. “What did you bring her here

voice again. “They won’t let

upon a family tragedy, and tiptoed beyond reach of Dolan’s roving eyes to where The Thinking

olan again. It wa

ted. “Cunningham and Blanton are ho

“I did want to see you. I wanted to know if you are

he reply. “I have no money

y’re going to

almost a sob in the v

t the limit —

es

lan solicitously. “Is there any

,” was the reply. “O

et things. It isn’t what I planned for, little girl, but it’s here so — so I’ll m

he tone which was not l

ars,” he hea

stant he had a regret — regret that he had not killed Blanton and Cunning

to tell where the money is hidden, and I know they’ll never permit me to write to you for fear

n a passion; it passed after a moment. He must not forget

do any good. Brace up, little girl, and wait — wait for me. Eighteen years is not forever, we’re both young, a

old one?”

hen they let you loose and sew up that tear under the right arm and send it to me here? It’

answered,

o sew it up,” said Dolan again. “Perhaps, when I

e arose and stretch

Mallory,” he said. “Have her hel

d away, screaming. Hatch shuddered a little, and Dolan, not understa

Mallory. “Thought I’d try to tell her where it was, but I didn’

ent back to his private office. All were silent but the detec

achine, quietly. “Please go at once to the flat and bring the brown coat Dolan

lready searched that coat

e least difference,”

ace looking garment, badly worn and in sad need of repair not only in the rip under the arm but in other pl

t my head on it,” declared Detective Ma

e him a glance in which

money can be hidden in it somewhere? Can’t you see that he asked for this coat — which is not as good a one as the one he is wearing now — in order to attract his wife’s attention

Nothing resulted. Detective Mallory frankly regarded it all as wasted effort and when there remained nothing of th

the domelike brow. “Ah! Mr. Hatch please go back to the flat, look in the sewing mach

d the detective in amazement. “H

N

re’s a spool of brow

o me,” snapped The Thinking Machine. “I know it b

upon it eagerly, and his watery, squint eyes examined it. A portion of it had been used — the spool was only half gone. But

in Dolan the police are dealing with a man far beyond the

the spool. For an instant his face showed blank amazement. Then he put the

at last. “It must be, els

ool appeared a white strip. In another instant The Thinking Machine held in his hand a tiny, thin sheet of paper — a cigarette paper. I

ching him curiously. The tiny paper unfolded — something w

sement, tenth flagstone

f an hour of sailing time it would have been an easy matter for Dolan to have recovered it all and that without in the least exciting the suspicion of th

covering the money. Further he argued that the police would never suspect that a spool contained the secret for which they sought so long. His conversation with his wife, today

m. But a certain quaint philosophy didn’t desert him. He gazed at Detective Mallory inc

think it was in you. That makes