refused to work.

‘You have told me that Knight was arrested at the suggestion of Mr Oliver last night shortly after the police learned of the affair,’ The Thinking Machine went on, musingly. ‘Now just what have you or the police learned as to him? How do they connect him with the affair?’

‘First the police acted on the general ground of exclusive opportunity,’ the reporter explained. ‘Then Knight was arrested. The stiletto used was not an ordinary one. It had a blade of about seven inches and was very slender, but instead of a guard on it there was only a gold band. The handle is a straight, highly polished piece of wood. Around it, below the gold band where the guard should have been, there were threads as if it had been screwed into something.’

‘Yes, yes, I see,’ the other interrupted impatiently. ‘It was intended to be carried hidden in a walking cane, perhaps, and was screwed down with the blade in the stick. Go on.’

‘Detective Mallory surmised that when he saw the stiletto,’ the reporter continued, ‘so after Knight was locked up he searched his rooms for the other part – the lower end – of the cane.’

‘And he found it, without the stiletto?’

‘Yes, that’s the chain against Knight. First, exclusive opportunity, then the stiletto and the finding of the lower end of the cane in his possession.’

‘Exclusive fiddlesticks!’ exclaimed the scientist irritably. ‘I presume Knight denies that he killed Miss Oliver?’

‘Naturally.’

‘And where is the stiletto that belongs to his cane? Does he attempt to account for it?’

‘He doesn’t seem to know where it is – in fact he doesn’t deny that the stiletto might be his. He merely says he doesn’t know.’

The Thinking Machine was silent for several minutes.

‘Looks bad for him,’ he remarked at last.

‘Thank you,’ remarked Hatch dryly. It was one of those rare occasions when the scientist saw a problem exactly as he saw it.

‘Miss Oliver and Mr Knight were to be married – when?’

‘Three weeks from next Wednesday.’

‘I suppose Detective Mallory has the stiletto and cane?’

‘Yes.’

The Thinking Machine arose and found his hat.

‘Let’s run over to police headquarters,’ he suggested.

****

They found Detective Mallory snugly ensconced behind a fat cigar with beatific satisfaction on his face.

‘Ah, gentlemen,’ he remarked graciously – the graciousness of conscious superiority. ‘We’ve nailed it to our friend Knight all right.’

‘How?’ inquired The Thinking Machine.

The detective gloated a little – twisted his tongue around the dainty morsel – before he answered.

‘I suppose Hatch has told you the grounds of the arrest?’ he asked. ‘Exclusive opportunity and all that? Then you know, too, how I searched Knight’s rooms and found the other part of the stiletto cane. Of course that was enough to convict, but early this evening the last link in the chain against him was supplied when Mrs Oliver made a statement to me.’

The detective paused in enjoyment of the curiosity he had aroused.

‘Well?’ asked The Thinking Machine, at last.

‘Mrs Oliver heard – understand me – heard Knight threaten her daughter only a few minutes before she was found dead.’

‘Threaten her?’ exclaimed Hatch, as he glanced at The Thinking Machine. ‘By George!’

Detective Mallory tugged at his moustache complacently.

‘Mrs Oliver heard Knight first say something like, “Please don’t. It won’t be very long.” Her daughter answered something she couldn’t catch after which she heard Knight say positively, “You mustn’t. If you do I shall do something desperate,” or something like that. Now as she remembers it the tone was threatening – it must have been raised in anger to be heard above the anvils. Thus the case is complete.’

The Thinking Machine and Hatch silently considered this new point.

‘Remember this was only three or four minutes before she was found stabbed,’ the detective went on with conviction. ‘It all connects up straight from exclusive opportunity to the ownership of the stiletto; from that to the threat and there you are.’

‘No motive of course?’ asked The Thinking Machine.

‘Well, the question of motive isn’t exactly clear but our further investigations will bring it out all right,’ the detective admitted. ‘I should imagine the motive to be jealousy. Of course the story of Knight not knowing where his stiletto is has no weight.’

Detective Mallory was so charmed with himself that he offered cigars to his visitors – an unusual burst of generosity – and Hatch was so deeply thoughtful that he accepted. The Thinking Machine never smoked.

‘May I see the stiletto and cane?’ he asked instead.

The detective was delighted to oblige. He watched the scientist with keen satisfaction as that astute gentleman squinted at the slender blade, still stained with blood, and then as he examined the lower part of the cane. Finally the scientist thrust the long blade into the hollow stick and screwed the handle in. It fitted perfectly. Detective Mallory smiled.

‘I don’t suppose you’ll try to put a crimp in me this time?’ he asked jovially.

‘Very clever, Mr Mallory, very clever,’ replied The Thinking Machine, and with Hatch trailing he left headquarters.

‘Mallory will swell like a balloon after that,’ Hatch commented grimly.

‘Well, he might save himself that trouble,’ replied the scientist crustily. ‘He has the wrong man.’

The reporter glanced quickly into the inscrutable face of his companion.

‘Didn’t Knight do it?’ he asked.

‘Certainly not,’ was the impatient answer.

‘Who did?’

‘I don’t know.’

****

Together they went on to the theatre from which Miss Oliver had been removed the night before. There a few words with the manager gained permission to look at the Oliver box – a box which the Olivers held only on alternate nights during the opera season. It was on the first balcony level, to the left as they entered the house.

The first three rows of seats in the balcony ran around to and stopped at the box, one of four on that level and the furthest from the stage. The Thinking Machine pottered around aimlessly for ten minutes while Hatch looked on. He entered the box two or three times, examined the curtains, the partitions, the floor and the chairs after which

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