Tales of the Thinking Machine

ned face, always drawn and pale, was deathly white now, the thin straight lips were colorless, the eyelids drooping, and the profuse yellow hair was t

stood with distended eyes gazing in terror and apprehension. She was not of the screaming kind, but a great lump rose in her old t

e — devotion to this eminent man of science whom she had ser

only fainted. She grasped at the idea hopefully, and turned, seeking water. There was a faucet over a sink at the end of the long table, and innumerable graduated glasses; but even in her excited condition Martha

he paused a second time in amazement. The distinguished scientist was sitt

anyone call?”

happen to you?” she

,” he explained irrita

w do you fee

all right,” The Thinking Machine assured her, and put

hat white when I picked yo

on my back

all sprawled out. I tho

f his head, and Martha rattled on verbosely, indicating jus

dn’t hear any sound?” aga

ing,

sudde

aying the tea things, sir, and opene

r, and The Thinking Machine moistened his l

“go see if the front

Yes, sir,” she rep

cke

s,

nto a mirror which hung there, after which he wandered all over his apartments, examining windows, trying doors, and stopping occasional

, sir?” she ask

t hear any sound of any

thing

one. In a minute or so he was in conversatio

elivery at Chisholm

ed the repo

escape,” said the s

d the reporter eagerl

ip Gilfoil. I don’t know how

atch repeated. “He’

ne abruptly. “He’s out. You might go over

was at Chisholm prison, a vast spreading structure of granite in th

t escaped?” Hat

en with a momentary start, a

ing Philip Gilfoil

e,” was the grim response. “He i

have seen him?” th

,” was the r

have been instances where denials of this sort have been made offhand with the idea of

lfoil?” he in

rden cheerfully. “Come

ng the corridor to Cell 9. “Ninet

t I’d be?” grumble

he door fo

en Philip Gilfoil; but there was not the slightest question in his mind about the identity of this man. It was Gilfoil — the same sharp, hooked n

me, Gilfoil?”

hing but a kindly expression in the voice. “You’re the fellow

n!” he remarked pointedly, accusingly. “I want to know the real

reply. “All the prisoners are allow

never been out

rden. “He’s in for eight years, and

eason in the world to believe — that h

aid the warden, and he laughed with the utmo

He went instead to a telephone an

ing escaped,” he told the scientist

m?” came the ir

eplied the reporter. “He was i

ine what it meant — The Thinking Machine w

t in the same irritable, querulous voice. “Gilfoil is not in his ce

hen he called at the prison half an hour or so after Hatch had gone he was received with more courtesy and attention than would have

g about this man Gilfoil,” t

Hutchinson Hatch was here a littl

e scientist. “He tells me

a year, and will remain here for another seven years. Hatch seemed to have an

an instant inscrutably, then glanced up at the c

lfoil is in his cell?

at his visitor curiously. This constant questioning as to Convict 97, and the implied doubt behind it, was anything but sooth

lfoil?” queried The Think

more than

haved pr

ely he has realized the uselessness of it all, and now, I may say, he is a model of decency. That’s the usual cours

ust when did you first notice this c

six weeks ago,

al change or a

pose it might be called a sudden change. I noticed one day that

ently at the official for an instant. Then he sank back again, and his eyes wand

any particular impression on my mi

you since?” the s

heard him swear since. He’s

cal

ame here to see him twice. There was some

physician didn’t attend him?” deman

the response. “He had twelve or fifteen dollars here

n the scientist’s mind; for there came a subtle change

wly at last, “if the physician was called

ily. “What the deuce is all this about, a

you said. How d

tor told me it wasn’t anything particularly —

him personally?” demanded The Thinking Machine, and

nown him for years. I le

almost disappointed. He dropped back

see Gilfoil?”

walk down the corridor very, very softly and flash y

ittle nervous laugh. No man knew better than he that Convict 97 was still there, yet to please this whimsical visitor he lighted his dark lante

the scientist.

wasn’t. He was down on his k

I hate to put you to so much trouble,” he said; “but believe me it is in the interests of justice. I should like personally to visit

slightest movement to indicate even a casual interest in anybody or anything. The warden, busy with some accounts, glanced around curiously at the diminutive figure half a dozen times; once or twice he ima

ase,” he

they went on to Cell 9. They paused at the door. There was utter silence in the huge prison, broken only by the regular, rhyt

se,” whispered

the face of the sleeping man. For a second or so he gazed steadily at the features upturned thus to him, then

hine suddenly, and he leaned forward so that the cut

risoner repl

me?” insisted

right.” Convict 97 raised himself on an elbow and

o you wear?” dema

usiness!” growl

nd examined them carefully, after which he replaced them, nodded to the warden, and they went out. The prisoner lay for a long time,

rden’s office again. The record book was forthcoming. The scientist copied, accurately and at length, everything written the

ed the Warden — “Dr.

ket, planted his hat more firmly on the great shock o

ded the warden desperately. “Be good enough to inform

er the circumstances you can be blamed for what has happened; but the man you have in Cell 9 is not Philip Gilfo

little scientist

no answering sound. The modest cottage in a quiet street of a fashionable suburb seemed wholly deserted, yet as he steppe

y wouldn’t they answer? As he looked the trickling light remained still, and then he went to the door and tried it. It was un

before him, a single arm shot out from the gloom of the hall,

then the door banged behind him. He could see nothing; the darkn

young fellow, right no

e point of the chin, strange lights dancing fantastically before h

n his eyes. For half a minute he lay still, until he had remembered those singular events which had preceded this, and then he started up. He was leaning on one elbow surveying the room,

aps it was a spirit of defense, perhaps a natura

demanded flatly. “Wh

, and her lips trembled. “I’m glad i

?” Hatch ask

“Please don’t! If you are able to

ngth rushing through his veins, and a naturally inquisitive mind fully aroused. If it was only a poke in the jaw h

who struck me las

ything — it’s all horrible and unreal and hideous!” Tears were streaming

not going yet,” he sai

can tell — nothing

across her cheek and neck — it might have been the mark of a lash. Whatever particular

l me about it

I can’t!”

r stained face, as she lifted her head to listen.

e’ll kill you!” wh

icially in his hands, and glanced toward the woman reassuringly. She had dropped down on the couch and had buried her face in

knob of the door. Then it opened and a man ente

ge!” he

muscled arms. The man sank to the floor without a sound; the woma

hine and Hutchinson Hatch, together with a powerful cabman,

p Gilfoil,” said The Th

den almost shouted

hilip Gilfoils, if one might trust the evidence of a sense of sight; the first with dissipated, brutally l

the man from Cell 9. “This is the Rev. Dr. Phineas Gilfoil, pastor of a fashionable little church in a suburb, and,”

rom one to the other of the two men. The facial lines were

forger, the real Convict 97, who has been out of this prison for five weeks and four days, wears a number eight and a half shoe, according to your own re

n the upper part, it was so large. Dr. Gilfoil dropped back weakly into a chair without a word and buried his face in his hands; Philip Gilfoil, the

laces?” demanded the warden stammeringly

. On your own books, in your own handwriting, is a complete solution of the problem, although y

a page, and stopped at a written

lf-hour’s conversation with 97 in afternoon. Broug

for the specific purpose of changing places with his brother — the motive doesn’t appear — and was to remain in the cell for a time agreed upon. The necessary changes of clothing were made, instructions which were to enable the minister to impe

nger at the trick of which he had been the victim.

oil. “Put him where he belongs!” Then he turned toward the w

y; then the warden reached

ve your prisoner now, safely enough, and here you are about to turn over to the police

isoner?” blazed the warden. “That makes him

brother who, in this man’s eyes, must be free for a short time at any rate. The reason of this, the necessity, while urgent, still doesn’t appear. Dr. Gilfoil trusted his brother, criminal though he was, to return to his cell in four weeks and finish his sentence. The exchange of prisone

hoarsely, his voice quivering with emot

sion of your house while maudlin from drink, to the point of striking your wife like the coward he is, and of making a temporary prisoner of Mr. Hatch here, who had gone to

ed together, fighting back an emotion which nearly overwhelmed him. After a moment came a strange so

that justice would demand the imprisonment of this man. I believe it would be far be

rime,” interrup

ok even a crime, if it does no harm, and if it is inspired by the mot

s and fingers pressed tip to tip; Dr. Gilfoil’s eyes roved from the drawn, inscrutable fa

ut this escape first?” as

a mirror above my work table, saw him, and tried to avoid the blow. It caught me in the back of the head, and I fell unconscious. Martha made some noise outside which must have frightened Gilfoil, for he fled. The fro

the prisoner’s behavior, which confirmed my knowledge that it was Philip Gilfoil who had attacked me. I sought to surprise Dr. Gilfoil here into a betrayal of identity by a visit to his cell at night. But his loyalty to his broth

nd, Mr. Hatch, while I called on Dr. Heindell who had treated the prisoner for a bad throat. He informed me that there was nothing at all the matter with the prisoner’s throat, so a plain problem in additio

n. That official had been turning the matter over in his m

pectfully, “and change clothing with your brother. You couldn’