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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37146-h.zip b/37146-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6fc755 --- /dev/null +++ b/37146-h.zip diff --git a/37146-h/37146-h.htm b/37146-h/37146-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9eb4d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/37146-h/37146-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1233 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Leak, by Jacques Futrelle. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Leak, by Jacques Futrelle + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Leak + +Author: Jacques Futrelle + +Release Date: August 21, 2011 [EBook #37146] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEAK *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>The Leak</h1> + +<h2>By Jacques Futrelle</h2> + + +<p>"Really great criminals are never found out, for the simple reason that +the greatest crimes—their crimes—are never discovered," remarked +Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen positively. "There is genius in +the perpetration of crime, Mr. Grayson, just as there must be in its +detection, unless it is the shallow work of a bungler. In this latter +case there have been instances where even the police have uncovered the +truth. But the expert criminal, the man of genius—the professional, I +may say—regards as perfect only that crime which does not and cannot be +made to appear a crime at all; therefore one that can never under any +circumstances involve him, or anyone else."</p> + +<p>The financier, J. Morgan Grayson, regarded this wizened little man of +science—The Thinking Machine—thoughtfully, through the smoke of his +cigar.</p> + +<p>"It is a strange psychological fact that the casual criminal glories in +his crime beforehand, and from one to ten minutes afterward," The +Thinking Machine continued. "For instance, the man who kills for revenge +wants the world to know it is his work; but at the end of ten minutes +comes fear, and then paradoxically enough, he will seek to hide his +crime and protect himself. With fear comes panic, with panic +irresponsibility, and then he makes the mistake—hews a pathway which +the trained mind follows from motive to a prison cell."</p> + +<p>"These are the men who are found out. But there are men of genius, Mr. +Grayson, professionally engaged in crime. We never hear of them because +they are never caught, and we never even suspect them because they make +no mistake. Imagine the great brains of history turned to crime. Well, +there are today brains as great as any of those of history; there is +murder and theft and robbery under our noses that we never dream of. If +I, for instance, should become an active criminal——" He paused.</p> + +<p>Grayson, with a queer expression on his face, puffed steadily at his +cigar.</p> + +<p>"I could kill you now, here in this room," The Thinking Machine went on +calmly, "and no one would ever know, never even suspect. Why? Because I +would make no mistake."</p> + +<p>It was not a boast as he said it; it was merely a statement of fact. +Grayson appeared to be a little startled. Where there had been only +impatient interest in his manner, there was now fascination.</p> + +<p>"How would you kill me, for instance?" he inquired curiously.</p> + +<p>"With any one of a dozen poisons, with virulent germs, or even with a +knife or revolver," replied the scientist placidly. "You see, I know how +to use poisons; I know how to inoculate with germs; I know how to +produce a suicidal appearance perfectly with either a revolver or knife. +And I never make mistakes, Mr. Grayson. In the sciences we must be +exact—not approximately so, but absolutely so. We must know. It isn't +like carpentry. A carpenter may make a trivial mistake in a joint, and +it will not weaken his house; but if the scientist makes one mistake, +the whole structure tumbles down. We must know. Knowledge is progress. +We gain knowledge through observation and logic—inevitable logic. And +logic tells us that two and two make four—not sometimes but all the +time."</p> + +<p>Grayson flicked the ashes off his cigar thoughtfully, and little +wrinkles appeared about his eyes as he stared into the drawn, +inscrutable face of the scientist. The enormous, straw-yellow head was +cushioned against the chair, the squinting, watery blue eyes turned +upward, and the slender white fingers at rest, tip to tip. The financier +drew a long breath. "I have been informed that you were a remarkable +man," he said at last slowly. "I believe it. Quinton Frazer, the banker +who gave me the letter of introduction to you, told me how you once +solved a remarkable mystery in which——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," interrupted the scientist shortly, "the Ralston Bank +burglary—I remember."</p> + +<p>"So I came to you to enlist your aid in something which is more +inexplicable than that," Grayson went on hesitatingly. "I know that no +fee I might offer would influence you; yet it is a case which——"</p> + +<p>"State it," interrupted The Thinking Machine again.</p> + +<p>"It isn't a crime—that is, a crime that can be reached by law," Grayson +hurried on, "but it has cost me millions, and——"</p> + +<p>For one instant The Thinking Machine lowered his squint eyes to those of +his visitor, then raised them again. "Millions!" he repeated. "How +many?"</p> + +<p>"Six, eight, perhaps ten," was the reply. "Briefly, there is a leak in +my office. My plans become known to others almost by the time I have +perfected them. My plans are large; I have millions at stake; and the +greatest secrecy is absolutely essential. For years I have been able to +preserve this secrecy; but half a dozen times in the last eight weeks my +plans have become known, and I have been caught. Unless you know the +Street, you can't imagine what a tremendous disadvantage it is to have +someone know your next move to the minutest detail and, knowing it, +defeat you at every turn."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know your world of finance, Mr. Grayson," remarked The +Thinking Machine. "Give me an instance."</p> + +<p>"Well, take this last case," said the financier earnestly. "Briefly, +without technicalities, I had planned to unload the securities of the +P., Q. & X. Railway, protecting myself through brokers, and force the +outstanding stock down to a price where other brokers, acting for me, +could buy far below the actual value. In this way I intended to get +complete control of the stock. But my plans became known, and when I +began to unload everything was snapped up by the opposition, with the +result that instead of gaining control of the road I lost heavily. This +same thing has happened, with variations, half a dozen times."</p> + +<p>"I presume that is strictly honest?" inquired the scientist mildly.</p> + +<p>"Honest?" repeated Grayson. "Certainly—of course."</p> + +<p>"I shall not pretend to understand all that," said The Thinking Machine +curtly. "It doesn't seem to matter, anyway. You want to know where the +leak is. Is that right?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely."</p> + +<p>"Well, who is in your confidence?"</p> + +<p>"No one, except my stenographer."</p> + +<p>"Who is he, please?"</p> + +<p>"It's a woman—Miss Evelyn Winthrop. She has been in my employ for six +years in the same capacity—more than five years before this leak +appeared. I trust her absolutely."</p> + +<p>"No man knows your business?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied the financier grimly. "I learned years ago that no one +could keep my secrets as well as I do—there are too many temptations. +Therefore, I never mention my plans to anyone—never—to anyone!"</p> + +<p>"Except your stenographer," corrected the scientist.</p> + +<p>"I work for days, weeks, sometimes months, perfecting plans, and it's +all in my head, not on paper—not a scratch of it," explained Grayson. +"When I say that she is in my confidence, I mean that she knows my plans +only half an hour or less before the machinery is put into motion. For +instance, I planned this P., Q. & X. deal. My brokers didn't know of it; +Miss Winthrop never heard of it until twenty minutes before the Stock +Exchange opened for business. Then I dictated to her, as I always do, +some short letters of instructions to my agents. That is all she knew of +it."</p> + +<p>"You outlined the plan in those letters?"</p> + +<p>"No; they merely told my brokers what to do."</p> + +<p>"But a shrewd person, knowing the contents of all those letters, could +have learned what you intended to do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but no one person knew the contents of all the letters. No one +broker knew what was in the other letters. Miss Winthrop and I were the +only two human beings who knew all that was in them."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine sat silent for so long that Grayson began to fidget +in his chair. "Who was in the room besides you and Miss Winthrop before +the letters were sent?" he asked at last.</p> + +<p>"No one," responded Grayson emphatically. "For an hour before I dictated +those letters, until at least an hour afterward, after my plans had gone +to smash, no one entered that room. Only she and I work there."</p> + +<p>"But when she finished the letters, she went out?" insisted The Thinking +Machine.</p> + +<p>"No," declared the financier, "she didn't even leave her desk."</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps sent something out—carbon copies of the letters?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Or called up a friend on the telephone?" continued The Thinking Machine +quietly.</p> + +<p>"Nor that," retorted Grayson.</p> + +<p>"Or signaled to someone through the window?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the financier again. "She finished the letters, then remained +quietly at her desk, reading a book. She hardly moved for two hours."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine lowered his eyes and glared straight into those of +the financier. "Someone listened at the window?" he went on after a +moment.</p> + +<p>"No. It is sixteen stories up, fronting the street, and there is no fire +escape."</p> + +<p>"Or the door?"</p> + +<p>"If you knew the arrangement of my offices, you would see how utterly +impossible that would be, because—"</p> + +<p>"Nothing is impossible, Mr. Grayson," snapped the scientist abruptly. +"It might be improbable, but not impossible. Don't say that—it annoys +me exceedingly." He was silent for a moment. Grayson stared at him +blankly. "Did either you or she answer a call on the 'phone?"</p> + +<p>"No one called; we called no one."</p> + +<p>"Any apertures—holes or cracks—in your flooring or walls or ceilings?" +demanded the scientist.</p> + +<p>"Private detectives whom I had employed looked for such an opening, and +there was none," replied Grayson.</p> + +<p>Again The Thinking Machine was silent for a long time. Grayson lighted a +fresh cigar and settled back in his chair patiently. Faint cobwebby +lines began to appear on the dome-like brow of the scientist, and slowly +the squint eyes were narrowing.</p> + +<p>"The letters you wrote were intercepted?" he suggested at last.</p> + +<p>"No," exclaimed Grayson flatly. "Those letters were sent direct to the +brokers by a dozen different methods, and every one of them had been +delivered by five minutes of ten o'clock, when 'Change begins business. +The last one left me at ten minutes of ten."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! Dear me!" The Thinking Machine rose and paced the length of +the room.</p> + +<p>"You don't give me credit for the extraordinary precautions I have +taken, particularly in this last P., Q. & X. deal," Grayson continued. +"I left positively nothing undone to insure absolute secrecy. And Miss +Winthrop, I know, is innocent of any connection with the affair. The +private detectives suspected her at first, as you do, and she was +watched in and out of my office for weeks. When she was not under my +eyes, she was under the eyes of men to whom I had promised an +extravagant sum of money if they found the leak. She didn't know it +then, and doesn't know it now. I am heartily ashamed of it all, because +the investigation proved her absolute loyalty to me. On this last day +she was directly under my eyes for two hours; and she didn't make one +movement that I didn't note, because the thing meant millions to me. +That proved beyond all question that it was no fault of hers. What could +I do?"</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine didn't say. He paused at a window, and for minute +after minute stood motionless there, with eyes narrowed to mere slits.</p> + +<p>"I was on the point of discharging Miss Winthrop," the financier went +on, "but her innocence was so thoroughly proved to me by this last +affair that it would have been unjust, and so——"</p> + +<p>Suddenly the scientist turned upon his visitor. "Do you talk in your +sleep?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"No," was the prompt reply. "I had thought of that too. It is beyond all +ordinary things, Professor. Yet there is a leak that is costing me +millions."</p> + +<p>"It comes down to this, Mr. Grayson," The Thinking Machine informed him +crabbedly. "If only you and Miss Winthrop knew those plans, and no one +else, and they did leak, and were not deduced from other things, then +either you or she permitted them to leak, intentionally or +unintentionally. That is as pure logic as two and two make four; there +is no need to argue it."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, I didn't," said Grayson.</p> + +<p>"Then Miss Winthrop did," declared The Thinking Machine finally, +positively; "unless we credit the opposition, as you call it, with +telepathic gifts hitherto unheard of. By the way, you have referred to +the other side only as the opposition. Do the same men, the same clique, +appear against you all the time, or is it only one man?"</p> + +<p>"It's a clique," explained the financier, "with millions back of it, +headed by Ralph Matthews, a young man to whom I give credit for being +the prime factor against me." His lips were set sternly.</p> + +<p>"Why?" demanded the scientist.</p> + +<p>"Because every time he sees me he grins," was the reply. Grayson seemed +suddenly discomfited.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine went to a desk, addressed an envelope, folded a +sheet of paper, placed it inside, then sealed it. At length he turned +back to his visitor. "Is Miss Winthrop at your office now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Let us go there, then."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later the eminent financier ushered the eminent scientist +into his private office on the Street. The only person there was a young +woman—a woman of twenty-six or-seven, perhaps—who turned, saw Grayson, +and resumed reading. The financier motioned to a seat. Instead of +sitting, however, The Thinking Machine went straight to Miss Winthrop +and extended a sealed envelop to her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ralph Matthews asked me to hand you this," he said.</p> + +<p>The young woman glanced up into his face frankly, yet with a certain +timidity, took the envelope, and turned it curiously in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ralph Matthews," she repeated, as if the name was a strange one. "I +don't think I know him."</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine stood staring at her aggressively, as she opened +the envelope and drew out the sheet of paper. There was no expression +save surprise—bewilderment, rather—to be read on her face.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's a blank sheet!" she remarked, puzzled.</p> + +<p>The scientist turned suddenly toward Grayson, who had witnessed the +incident with frank astonishment in his eyes. "Your telephone a moment, +please," he requested.</p> + +<p>"Certainly; here," replied Grayson.</p> + +<p>"This will do," remarked the scientist.</p> + +<p>He leaned forward over the desk where Miss Winthrop sat, still gazing at +him in a sort of bewilderment, picked up the receiver, and held it to +his ear. A few moments later he was talking to Hutchinson Hatch, +reporter.</p> + +<p>"I merely wanted to ask you to meet me at my apartment in an hour," said +the scientist. "It is very important."</p> + +<p>That was all. He hung up the receiver, paused for a moment to admire an +exquisitely wrought silver box—a "vanity" box—on Miss Winthrop's desk, +beside the telephone, then took a seat beside Grayson and began to +discourse almost pleasantly upon the prevailing meteorological +conditions. Grayson merely stared; Miss Winthrop continued her reading.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen, distinguished scientist, and +Hutchinson Hatch, newspaper reporter, were poking round among the +chimney pots and other obstructions on the roof of a skyscraper. Far +below them the slumber-enshrouded city was spread out like a panorama, +streets dotted brilliantly with lights, and roofs hazily visible through +mists of night. Above, the infinite blackness hung like a veil, with +starpoints breaking through here and there.</p> + +<p>"Here are the wires," Hatch said at last, and he stooped.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine knelt on the roof beside him, and for several +minutes they remained thus in the darkness, with only the glow of a +flashlight to indicate their presence. Finally, The Thinking Machine +rose.</p> + +<p>"That's the wire you want, Mr. Hatch," he said. "I'll leave the rest of +it to you."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" asked the reporter.</p> + +<p>"I am always sure," was the tart response.</p> + +<p>Hatch opened a small handsatchel and removed several queerly wrought +tools. These he spread on the roof beside him; then, kneeling again, +began his work. For half an hour he labored in the gloom, with only the +flashlight to aid him, and then he rose.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," he said.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine examined the work that had been done, grunted his +satisfaction, and together they went to the skylight, leaving a thin, +insulated wire behind them, stringing along to mark their path. They +passed down through the roof and into the darkness of the hall of the +upper story. Here the light was extinguished. From far below came the +faint echo of a man's footsteps as the watchman passed through the +silent, deserted building.</p> + +<p>"Be careful!" warned The Thinking Machine.</p> + +<p>They went along the hall to a room in the rear, and still the wire +trailed behind. At the last door they stopped. The Thinking Machine +fumbled with some keys, then opened the way. Here an electric light was +on. The room was bare of furniture, the only sign of recent occupancy +being a telephone instrument on the wall.</p> + +<p>Here The Thinking Machine stopped and stared at the spool of wire which +he had permitted to wind off as he walked, and his thin face expressed +doubt.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be safe," he said at last, "to leave the wire exposed as we +have left it. True, this floor is not occupied; but someone might pass +this way and disturb it. You take the spool, go back to the roof, +winding the wire as you go, then swing the spool down to me over the +side of the building, so that I can bring it in through the window. That +will be best. I will catch it here, and thus there will be nothing to +indicate any connection." Hatch went out quietly and closed the door.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Twice the following day The Thinking Machine spoke to the financier over +the telephone. Grayson was in his private office, Miss Winthrop at her +desk, when the first call came.</p> + +<p>"Be careful in answering my questions," warned The Thinking Machine when +Grayson answered. "Do you know how long Miss Winthrop has owned the +little silver box which is now on her desk, near the telephone?"</p> + +<p>Grayson glanced round involuntarily to where the girl sat idly turning +over the leaves of her book. "Yes," he answered, "for seven months. I +gave it to her last Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the scientist. "That simplifies matters. Where did you +buy it?"</p> + +<p>Grayson mentioned the name of a well-known jeweler.</p> + +<p>Considerably later in the day The Thinking Machine called Grayson to the +telephone again.</p> + +<p>"What make of typewriter does she use?" came the querulous voice over +the wire.</p> + +<p>Grayson named it.</p> + +<p>While Grayson sat with deeply perplexed lines in his face, the +diminutive scientist called upon Hutchinson Hatch at his office.</p> + +<p>"Do you use a typewriter?" demanded The Thinking Machine.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What kind?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, four or five kinds—we have half a dozen different makes in the +office."</p> + +<p>They passed along through the city room, at that moment practically +deserted, until finally the watery blue eyes settled upon a typewriter +with the name emblazoned on the front.</p> + +<p>"That's it!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine. "Write something on it," he +directed Hatch.</p> + +<p>Hatch drew up a chair and rolled off several lines of the immortal +practice sentence, beginning, "Now is the time for all good men—"</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine sat beside him, squinting across the room in deep +abstraction, and listening intently. His head was turned away from the +reporter, but his ear was within a few inches of the machine. For half a +minute he sat there listening, then shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Strike your vowels," he commanded; "first slowly, then rapidly."</p> + +<p>Again Hatch obeyed, while the scientist listened. And again he shook his +head. Then in turn every make of machine in the office was tested the +same way. At the end The Thinking Machine rose and went his way. There +was an expression nearly approaching complete bewilderment on his face.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>For hour after hour that night The Thinking Machine half lay in a huge +chair in his laboratory, with eyes turned uncompromisingly upward, and +an expression of complete concentration on his face. There was no change +either in his position or his gaze as minute succeeded minute; the brow +was deeply wrinkled now, and the thin line of the lips was drawn taut. +The tiny clock in the reception room struck ten, eleven, twelve, and +finally one. At just half-past one The Thinking Machine rose suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Positively I am getting stupid!" he grumbled half aloud. "Of course! Of +course! Why couldn't I have thought of that in the first place?..."</p> + +<p>So it came about that Grayson did not go to his office on the following +morning at the usual time. Instead, he called again upon The Thinking +Machine in eager, expectant response to a note which had reached him at +his home just before he started to his office.</p> + +<p>"Nothing yet," said The Thinking Machine as the financier entered. "But +here is something you must do today. At one o'clock," the scientist went +on, "you must issue orders for a gigantic deal of some sort; and you +must issue them precisely as you have issued them in the past; there +must be no variation. Dictate the letters as you have always done to +Miss Winthrop—<i>but don't send them</i>! When they come to you, keep them +until you see me."</p> + +<p>"You mean that the deal must be purely imaginative?" inquired the +financier.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," was the reply. "But make your instructions circumstantial; +give them enough detail to make them absolutely logical and convincing."</p> + +<p>Grayson asked a dozen questions, answers to which were curtly denied, +then went to his office. The Thinking Machine again called Hatch on the +telephone.</p> + +<p>"I've got it," he announced briefly. "I want the best telegraph operator +you know. Bring him along and meet me in the room on the top floor where +the telephone is at precisely fifteen minutes before one o'clock +today."</p> + +<p>"Telegraph operator?" Hatch repeated.</p> + +<p>"That's what I said—telegraph operator!" replied the scientist +irritably. "Goodbye."</p> + +<p>Hatch smiled whimsically at the other end as he heard the receiver +banged on the hook—smiled because he knew the eccentric ways of this +singular man, whose mind so accurately illuminated every problem to +which it was directed. Then he went out to the telegraph room and +borrowed the principal operator. They were in the little room on the top +floor at precisely fifteen minutes of one.</p> + +<p>The operator glanced about in astonishment. The room was still +unfurnished, save for the telephone box on the wall.</p> + +<p>"What do I do?" he asked The Thinking Machine.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you when the time comes," responded the scientist, as he +glanced at his watch.</p> + +<p>At three minutes of one o'clock he handed a sheet of blank paper to the +operator, and gave him final instructions.</p> + +<p>There was ludicrous mystification on the operator's face; but he obeyed +orders, grinning cheerfully at Hatch as he tilted his cigar up to keep +the smoke out of his eyes. The Thinking Machine stood impatiently +looking on, watch in hand. Hatch didn't know what was happening, but he +was interested.</p> + +<p>At last the operator heard something. His face became suddenly alert. He +continued to listen for a moment, and then came a smile of recognition.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Less than ten minutes after Miss Winthrop had handed over the +typewritten letters of instruction to Grayson for signature, and while +he still sat turning them over in his hands, the door opened and The +Thinking Machine entered. He tossed a folded sheet of paper on the desk +before Grayson, and went straight to Miss Winthrop.</p> + +<p>"So you did know Mr. Ralph Matthews after all?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>The girl rose from her desk, and a flash of some subtle emotion passed +over her face. "What do you mean, sir?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"You might as well remove the silver box," The Thinking Machine went on +mercilessly. "There is no further need of the connection."</p> + +<p>Miss Winthrop glanced down at the telephone extension on her desk, and +her hand darted toward it. The silver "vanity" box was directly under +the receiver, supporting it, so that all weight was removed from the +hook, and the line was open. She snatched the box and the receiver +dropped back on the hook. The Thinking Machine turned to Grayson.</p> + +<p>"It was Miss Winthrop," he said.</p> + +<p>"Miss Winthrop!" exclaimed Grayson, "I can't believe it!"</p> + +<p>"Read the paper I gave you, Mr. Grayson," directed The Thinking Machine +coldly. "Perhaps that will enlighten her."</p> + +<p>The financier opened the sheet, which had remained folded in his hand, +and glanced at what was written there. Slowly he read it aloud: +"<span class="smcap">Peabody</span>—Sell ten thousand shares L. & W. at 97. <span class="smcap">McCracken</span> Co.—Sell +ten thousand shares L. & W. at 97." He read on down the list, +bewildered. Then gradually, as he realized the import of what he read, +there came a hardening of the lines about his mouth.</p> + +<p>"I understand, Miss Winthrop," he said at last. "This is the substance +of the orders I dictated, and in some way you made them known to persons +for whom they were not intended. I don't know how you did it, of course; +but I understand that you did do it, so——" He stepped to the door and +opened it with grave courtesy. "You may go now."</p> + +<p>Miss Winthrop made no plea—merely bowed and went out. Grayson stood +staring after her for a moment, then turned to The Thinking Machine and +motioned him to a chair. "What happened?" he asked briskly.</p> + +<p>"Miss Winthrop is a tremendously clever woman," replied The Thinking +Machine. "She neglected to tell you, however, that besides being a +stenographer and typist she is also a telegraph operator. She is so +expert in each of her lines that she combined the two, if I may say it +that way. In other words, in writing on the typewriter, she was clever +enough to be able to <i>give the click of the machine the patterns in the +Morse telegraphic code</i>—so that another telegraph operator at the other +end of the 'phone could hear her machine and translate the clicks into +words."</p> + +<p>Grayson sat staring at him incredulously. "I still don't understand," he +said finally.</p> + +<p>The Thinking Machine rose and went to Miss Winthrop's desk. "Here is an +extension telephone with the receiver on the hook. It happens that the +little silver box which you gave Miss Winthrop is just tall enough to +lift this receiver clear of the hook, and the minute the receiver is off +the hook the line is open. When you were at your desk and she was here, +you couldn't see this telephone; therefore it was a simple matter for +her to lift the receiver, and place the silver box underneath, thus +holding the line open permanently. That being true, the sound of the +typewriter—<i>the striking of the keys</i>—would go over the open wire to +whoever was listening at the other end. Then, if the striking of the +keys typed out your letters and, by their frequency and pauses, +simultaneously tapped out telegraphic code, an outside operator could +read your letters at the same moment they were being written. That is +all. It required extreme concentration on Miss Winthrop's part to type +accurately in Morse rhythms."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see!" exclaimed Grayson.</p> + +<p>"When I knew that the leak in your office was not in the usual way," +continued The Thinking Machine, "I looked for the unusual. There is +nothing very mysterious about it now—it was merely clever."</p> + +<p>"Clever!" repeated Grayson, and his jaws snapped. "It is more than that. +Why, it's criminal! She should be prosecuted."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't advise that, Mr. Grayson," returned the scientist coldly. +"If it is honest—merely business—to juggle stocks as you told me you +did, this is no more dishonest. And besides, remember that Miss Winthrop +is backed by the people who have made millions out of you, and—well, I +wouldn't prosecute. It is betrayal of trust, certainly; but—" He rose +as if that were all, and started toward the door. "I would advise you, +however, to discharge the person who operates your switchboard."</p> + +<p>"Was she in the scheme, too?" demanded Grayson. He rushed out of the +private office into the main office. At the door he met a clerk coming +in.</p> + +<p>"Where is Miss Mitchell?" demanded the financier hotly.</p> + +<p>"I was just coming to tell you that she went out with Miss Winthrop just +now without giving any explanation," replied the clerk.</p> + +<p>"Good day, Mr. Grayson," said The Thinking Machine.</p> + +<p>The financier nodded his thanks, then stalked back into his room.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the course of time The Thinking Machine received a check for ten +thousand dollars, signed, "J. Morgan Grayson." He glared at it for a +little while, then indorsed it in a crabbed hand, <i>Pay to the Trustees' +Home for Crippled Children</i>, and sent Martha, his housekeeper, out to +mail it.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Leak, by Jacques Futrelle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEAK *** + +***** This file should be named 37146-h.htm or 37146-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/1/4/37146/ + +Produced by David Starner, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Leak + +Author: Jacques Futrelle + +Release Date: August 21, 2011 [EBook #37146] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEAK *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + + The Leak + + By Jacques Futrelle + + +"Really great criminals are never found out, for the simple reason that +the greatest crimes--their crimes--are never discovered," remarked +Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen positively. "There is genius in +the perpetration of crime, Mr. Grayson, just as there must be in its +detection, unless it is the shallow work of a bungler. In this latter +case there have been instances where even the police have uncovered the +truth. But the expert criminal, the man of genius--the professional, I +may say--regards as perfect only that crime which does not and cannot be +made to appear a crime at all; therefore one that can never under any +circumstances involve him, or anyone else." + +The financier, J. Morgan Grayson, regarded this wizened little man of +science--The Thinking Machine--thoughtfully, through the smoke of his +cigar. + +"It is a strange psychological fact that the casual criminal glories in +his crime beforehand, and from one to ten minutes afterward," The +Thinking Machine continued. "For instance, the man who kills for revenge +wants the world to know it is his work; but at the end of ten minutes +comes fear, and then paradoxically enough, he will seek to hide his +crime and protect himself. With fear comes panic, with panic +irresponsibility, and then he makes the mistake--hews a pathway which +the trained mind follows from motive to a prison cell." + +"These are the men who are found out. But there are men of genius, Mr. +Grayson, professionally engaged in crime. We never hear of them because +they are never caught, and we never even suspect them because they make +no mistake. Imagine the great brains of history turned to crime. Well, +there are today brains as great as any of those of history; there is +murder and theft and robbery under our noses that we never dream of. If +I, for instance, should become an active criminal----" He paused. + +Grayson, with a queer expression on his face, puffed steadily at his +cigar. + +"I could kill you now, here in this room," The Thinking Machine went on +calmly, "and no one would ever know, never even suspect. Why? Because I +would make no mistake." + +It was not a boast as he said it; it was merely a statement of fact. +Grayson appeared to be a little startled. Where there had been only +impatient interest in his manner, there was now fascination. + +"How would you kill me, for instance?" he inquired curiously. + +"With any one of a dozen poisons, with virulent germs, or even with a +knife or revolver," replied the scientist placidly. "You see, I know how +to use poisons; I know how to inoculate with germs; I know how to +produce a suicidal appearance perfectly with either a revolver or knife. +And I never make mistakes, Mr. Grayson. In the sciences we must be +exact--not approximately so, but absolutely so. We must know. It isn't +like carpentry. A carpenter may make a trivial mistake in a joint, and +it will not weaken his house; but if the scientist makes one mistake, +the whole structure tumbles down. We must know. Knowledge is progress. +We gain knowledge through observation and logic--inevitable logic. And +logic tells us that two and two make four--not sometimes but all the +time." + +Grayson flicked the ashes off his cigar thoughtfully, and little +wrinkles appeared about his eyes as he stared into the drawn, +inscrutable face of the scientist. The enormous, straw-yellow head was +cushioned against the chair, the squinting, watery blue eyes turned +upward, and the slender white fingers at rest, tip to tip. The financier +drew a long breath. "I have been informed that you were a remarkable +man," he said at last slowly. "I believe it. Quinton Frazer, the banker +who gave me the letter of introduction to you, told me how you once +solved a remarkable mystery in which----" + +"Yes, yes," interrupted the scientist shortly, "the Ralston Bank +burglary--I remember." + +"So I came to you to enlist your aid in something which is more +inexplicable than that," Grayson went on hesitatingly. "I know that no +fee I might offer would influence you; yet it is a case which----" + +"State it," interrupted The Thinking Machine again. + +"It isn't a crime--that is, a crime that can be reached by law," Grayson +hurried on, "but it has cost me millions, and----" + +For one instant The Thinking Machine lowered his squint eyes to those of +his visitor, then raised them again. "Millions!" he repeated. "How +many?" + +"Six, eight, perhaps ten," was the reply. "Briefly, there is a leak in +my office. My plans become known to others almost by the time I have +perfected them. My plans are large; I have millions at stake; and the +greatest secrecy is absolutely essential. For years I have been able to +preserve this secrecy; but half a dozen times in the last eight weeks my +plans have become known, and I have been caught. Unless you know the +Street, you can't imagine what a tremendous disadvantage it is to have +someone know your next move to the minutest detail and, knowing it, +defeat you at every turn." + +"No, I don't know your world of finance, Mr. Grayson," remarked The +Thinking Machine. "Give me an instance." + +"Well, take this last case," said the financier earnestly. "Briefly, +without technicalities, I had planned to unload the securities of the +P., Q. & X. Railway, protecting myself through brokers, and force the +outstanding stock down to a price where other brokers, acting for me, +could buy far below the actual value. In this way I intended to get +complete control of the stock. But my plans became known, and when I +began to unload everything was snapped up by the opposition, with the +result that instead of gaining control of the road I lost heavily. This +same thing has happened, with variations, half a dozen times." + +"I presume that is strictly honest?" inquired the scientist mildly. + +"Honest?" repeated Grayson. "Certainly--of course." + +"I shall not pretend to understand all that," said The Thinking Machine +curtly. "It doesn't seem to matter, anyway. You want to know where the +leak is. Is that right?" + +"Precisely." + +"Well, who is in your confidence?" + +"No one, except my stenographer." + +"Who is he, please?" + +"It's a woman--Miss Evelyn Winthrop. She has been in my employ for six +years in the same capacity--more than five years before this leak +appeared. I trust her absolutely." + +"No man knows your business?" + +"No," replied the financier grimly. "I learned years ago that no one +could keep my secrets as well as I do--there are too many temptations. +Therefore, I never mention my plans to anyone--never--to anyone!" + +"Except your stenographer," corrected the scientist. + +"I work for days, weeks, sometimes months, perfecting plans, and it's +all in my head, not on paper--not a scratch of it," explained Grayson. +"When I say that she is in my confidence, I mean that she knows my plans +only half an hour or less before the machinery is put into motion. For +instance, I planned this P., Q. & X. deal. My brokers didn't know of it; +Miss Winthrop never heard of it until twenty minutes before the Stock +Exchange opened for business. Then I dictated to her, as I always do, +some short letters of instructions to my agents. That is all she knew of +it." + +"You outlined the plan in those letters?" + +"No; they merely told my brokers what to do." + +"But a shrewd person, knowing the contents of all those letters, could +have learned what you intended to do?" + +"Yes; but no one person knew the contents of all the letters. No one +broker knew what was in the other letters. Miss Winthrop and I were the +only two human beings who knew all that was in them." + +The Thinking Machine sat silent for so long that Grayson began to fidget +in his chair. "Who was in the room besides you and Miss Winthrop before +the letters were sent?" he asked at last. + +"No one," responded Grayson emphatically. "For an hour before I dictated +those letters, until at least an hour afterward, after my plans had gone +to smash, no one entered that room. Only she and I work there." + +"But when she finished the letters, she went out?" insisted The Thinking +Machine. + +"No," declared the financier, "she didn't even leave her desk." + +"Or perhaps sent something out--carbon copies of the letters?" + +"No." + +"Or called up a friend on the telephone?" continued The Thinking Machine +quietly. + +"Nor that," retorted Grayson. + +"Or signaled to someone through the window?" + +"No," said the financier again. "She finished the letters, then remained +quietly at her desk, reading a book. She hardly moved for two hours." + +The Thinking Machine lowered his eyes and glared straight into those of +the financier. "Someone listened at the window?" he went on after a +moment. + +"No. It is sixteen stories up, fronting the street, and there is no fire +escape." + +"Or the door?" + +"If you knew the arrangement of my offices, you would see how utterly +impossible that would be, because--" + +"Nothing is impossible, Mr. Grayson," snapped the scientist abruptly. +"It might be improbable, but not impossible. Don't say that--it annoys +me exceedingly." He was silent for a moment. Grayson stared at him +blankly. "Did either you or she answer a call on the 'phone?" + +"No one called; we called no one." + +"Any apertures--holes or cracks--in your flooring or walls or ceilings?" +demanded the scientist. + +"Private detectives whom I had employed looked for such an opening, and +there was none," replied Grayson. + +Again The Thinking Machine was silent for a long time. Grayson lighted a +fresh cigar and settled back in his chair patiently. Faint cobwebby +lines began to appear on the dome-like brow of the scientist, and slowly +the squint eyes were narrowing. + +"The letters you wrote were intercepted?" he suggested at last. + +"No," exclaimed Grayson flatly. "Those letters were sent direct to the +brokers by a dozen different methods, and every one of them had been +delivered by five minutes of ten o'clock, when 'Change begins business. +The last one left me at ten minutes of ten." + +"Dear me! Dear me!" The Thinking Machine rose and paced the length of +the room. + +"You don't give me credit for the extraordinary precautions I have +taken, particularly in this last P., Q. & X. deal," Grayson continued. +"I left positively nothing undone to insure absolute secrecy. And Miss +Winthrop, I know, is innocent of any connection with the affair. The +private detectives suspected her at first, as you do, and she was +watched in and out of my office for weeks. When she was not under my +eyes, she was under the eyes of men to whom I had promised an +extravagant sum of money if they found the leak. She didn't know it +then, and doesn't know it now. I am heartily ashamed of it all, because +the investigation proved her absolute loyalty to me. On this last day +she was directly under my eyes for two hours; and she didn't make one +movement that I didn't note, because the thing meant millions to me. +That proved beyond all question that it was no fault of hers. What could +I do?" + +The Thinking Machine didn't say. He paused at a window, and for minute +after minute stood motionless there, with eyes narrowed to mere slits. + +"I was on the point of discharging Miss Winthrop," the financier went +on, "but her innocence was so thoroughly proved to me by this last +affair that it would have been unjust, and so----" + +Suddenly the scientist turned upon his visitor. "Do you talk in your +sleep?" he demanded. + +"No," was the prompt reply. "I had thought of that too. It is beyond all +ordinary things, Professor. Yet there is a leak that is costing me +millions." + +"It comes down to this, Mr. Grayson," The Thinking Machine informed him +crabbedly. "If only you and Miss Winthrop knew those plans, and no one +else, and they did leak, and were not deduced from other things, then +either you or she permitted them to leak, intentionally or +unintentionally. That is as pure logic as two and two make four; there +is no need to argue it." + +"Well, of course, I didn't," said Grayson. + +"Then Miss Winthrop did," declared The Thinking Machine finally, +positively; "unless we credit the opposition, as you call it, with +telepathic gifts hitherto unheard of. By the way, you have referred to +the other side only as the opposition. Do the same men, the same clique, +appear against you all the time, or is it only one man?" + +"It's a clique," explained the financier, "with millions back of it, +headed by Ralph Matthews, a young man to whom I give credit for being +the prime factor against me." His lips were set sternly. + +"Why?" demanded the scientist. + +"Because every time he sees me he grins," was the reply. Grayson seemed +suddenly discomfited. + +The Thinking Machine went to a desk, addressed an envelope, folded a +sheet of paper, placed it inside, then sealed it. At length he turned +back to his visitor. "Is Miss Winthrop at your office now?" + +"Yes." + +"Let us go there, then." + +A few minutes later the eminent financier ushered the eminent scientist +into his private office on the Street. The only person there was a young +woman--a woman of twenty-six or-seven, perhaps--who turned, saw Grayson, +and resumed reading. The financier motioned to a seat. Instead of +sitting, however, The Thinking Machine went straight to Miss Winthrop +and extended a sealed envelop to her. + +"Mr. Ralph Matthews asked me to hand you this," he said. + +The young woman glanced up into his face frankly, yet with a certain +timidity, took the envelope, and turned it curiously in her hand. + +"Mr. Ralph Matthews," she repeated, as if the name was a strange one. "I +don't think I know him." + +The Thinking Machine stood staring at her aggressively, as she opened +the envelope and drew out the sheet of paper. There was no expression +save surprise--bewilderment, rather--to be read on her face. + +"Why, it's a blank sheet!" she remarked, puzzled. + +The scientist turned suddenly toward Grayson, who had witnessed the +incident with frank astonishment in his eyes. "Your telephone a moment, +please," he requested. + +"Certainly; here," replied Grayson. + +"This will do," remarked the scientist. + +He leaned forward over the desk where Miss Winthrop sat, still gazing at +him in a sort of bewilderment, picked up the receiver, and held it to +his ear. A few moments later he was talking to Hutchinson Hatch, +reporter. + +"I merely wanted to ask you to meet me at my apartment in an hour," said +the scientist. "It is very important." + +That was all. He hung up the receiver, paused for a moment to admire an +exquisitely wrought silver box--a "vanity" box--on Miss Winthrop's desk, +beside the telephone, then took a seat beside Grayson and began to +discourse almost pleasantly upon the prevailing meteorological +conditions. Grayson merely stared; Miss Winthrop continued her reading. + + * * * * * + +Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen, distinguished scientist, and +Hutchinson Hatch, newspaper reporter, were poking round among the +chimney pots and other obstructions on the roof of a skyscraper. Far +below them the slumber-enshrouded city was spread out like a panorama, +streets dotted brilliantly with lights, and roofs hazily visible through +mists of night. Above, the infinite blackness hung like a veil, with +starpoints breaking through here and there. + +"Here are the wires," Hatch said at last, and he stooped. + +The Thinking Machine knelt on the roof beside him, and for several +minutes they remained thus in the darkness, with only the glow of a +flashlight to indicate their presence. Finally, The Thinking Machine +rose. + +"That's the wire you want, Mr. Hatch," he said. "I'll leave the rest of +it to you." + +"Are you sure?" asked the reporter. + +"I am always sure," was the tart response. + +Hatch opened a small handsatchel and removed several queerly wrought +tools. These he spread on the roof beside him; then, kneeling again, +began his work. For half an hour he labored in the gloom, with only the +flashlight to aid him, and then he rose. + +"It's all right," he said. + +The Thinking Machine examined the work that had been done, grunted his +satisfaction, and together they went to the skylight, leaving a thin, +insulated wire behind them, stringing along to mark their path. They +passed down through the roof and into the darkness of the hall of the +upper story. Here the light was extinguished. From far below came the +faint echo of a man's footsteps as the watchman passed through the +silent, deserted building. + +"Be careful!" warned The Thinking Machine. + +They went along the hall to a room in the rear, and still the wire +trailed behind. At the last door they stopped. The Thinking Machine +fumbled with some keys, then opened the way. Here an electric light was +on. The room was bare of furniture, the only sign of recent occupancy +being a telephone instrument on the wall. + +Here The Thinking Machine stopped and stared at the spool of wire which +he had permitted to wind off as he walked, and his thin face expressed +doubt. + +"It wouldn't be safe," he said at last, "to leave the wire exposed as we +have left it. True, this floor is not occupied; but someone might pass +this way and disturb it. You take the spool, go back to the roof, +winding the wire as you go, then swing the spool down to me over the +side of the building, so that I can bring it in through the window. That +will be best. I will catch it here, and thus there will be nothing to +indicate any connection." Hatch went out quietly and closed the door. + + * * * * * + +Twice the following day The Thinking Machine spoke to the financier over +the telephone. Grayson was in his private office, Miss Winthrop at her +desk, when the first call came. + +"Be careful in answering my questions," warned The Thinking Machine when +Grayson answered. "Do you know how long Miss Winthrop has owned the +little silver box which is now on her desk, near the telephone?" + +Grayson glanced round involuntarily to where the girl sat idly turning +over the leaves of her book. "Yes," he answered, "for seven months. I +gave it to her last Christmas." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the scientist. "That simplifies matters. Where did you +buy it?" + +Grayson mentioned the name of a well-known jeweler. + +Considerably later in the day The Thinking Machine called Grayson to the +telephone again. + +"What make of typewriter does she use?" came the querulous voice over +the wire. + +Grayson named it. + +While Grayson sat with deeply perplexed lines in his face, the +diminutive scientist called upon Hutchinson Hatch at his office. + +"Do you use a typewriter?" demanded The Thinking Machine. + +"Yes." + +"What kind?" + +"Oh, four or five kinds--we have half a dozen different makes in the +office." + +They passed along through the city room, at that moment practically +deserted, until finally the watery blue eyes settled upon a typewriter +with the name emblazoned on the front. + +"That's it!" exclaimed The Thinking Machine. "Write something on it," he +directed Hatch. + +Hatch drew up a chair and rolled off several lines of the immortal +practice sentence, beginning, "Now is the time for all good men--" + +The Thinking Machine sat beside him, squinting across the room in deep +abstraction, and listening intently. His head was turned away from the +reporter, but his ear was within a few inches of the machine. For half a +minute he sat there listening, then shook his head. + +"Strike your vowels," he commanded; "first slowly, then rapidly." + +Again Hatch obeyed, while the scientist listened. And again he shook his +head. Then in turn every make of machine in the office was tested the +same way. At the end The Thinking Machine rose and went his way. There +was an expression nearly approaching complete bewilderment on his face. + + * * * * * + +For hour after hour that night The Thinking Machine half lay in a huge +chair in his laboratory, with eyes turned uncompromisingly upward, and +an expression of complete concentration on his face. There was no change +either in his position or his gaze as minute succeeded minute; the brow +was deeply wrinkled now, and the thin line of the lips was drawn taut. +The tiny clock in the reception room struck ten, eleven, twelve, and +finally one. At just half-past one The Thinking Machine rose suddenly. + +"Positively I am getting stupid!" he grumbled half aloud. "Of course! Of +course! Why couldn't I have thought of that in the first place?..." + +So it came about that Grayson did not go to his office on the following +morning at the usual time. Instead, he called again upon The Thinking +Machine in eager, expectant response to a note which had reached him at +his home just before he started to his office. + +"Nothing yet," said The Thinking Machine as the financier entered. "But +here is something you must do today. At one o'clock," the scientist went +on, "you must issue orders for a gigantic deal of some sort; and you +must issue them precisely as you have issued them in the past; there +must be no variation. Dictate the letters as you have always done to +Miss Winthrop--_but don't send them_! When they come to you, keep them +until you see me." + +"You mean that the deal must be purely imaginative?" inquired the +financier. + +"Precisely," was the reply. "But make your instructions circumstantial; +give them enough detail to make them absolutely logical and convincing." + +Grayson asked a dozen questions, answers to which were curtly denied, +then went to his office. The Thinking Machine again called Hatch on the +telephone. + +"I've got it," he announced briefly. "I want the best telegraph operator +you know. Bring him along and meet me in the room on the top floor where +the telephone is at precisely fifteen minutes before one o'clock +today." + +"Telegraph operator?" Hatch repeated. + +"That's what I said--telegraph operator!" replied the scientist +irritably. "Goodbye." + +Hatch smiled whimsically at the other end as he heard the receiver +banged on the hook--smiled because he knew the eccentric ways of this +singular man, whose mind so accurately illuminated every problem to +which it was directed. Then he went out to the telegraph room and +borrowed the principal operator. They were in the little room on the top +floor at precisely fifteen minutes of one. + +The operator glanced about in astonishment. The room was still +unfurnished, save for the telephone box on the wall. + +"What do I do?" he asked The Thinking Machine. + +"I'll tell you when the time comes," responded the scientist, as he +glanced at his watch. + +At three minutes of one o'clock he handed a sheet of blank paper to the +operator, and gave him final instructions. + +There was ludicrous mystification on the operator's face; but he obeyed +orders, grinning cheerfully at Hatch as he tilted his cigar up to keep +the smoke out of his eyes. The Thinking Machine stood impatiently +looking on, watch in hand. Hatch didn't know what was happening, but he +was interested. + +At last the operator heard something. His face became suddenly alert. He +continued to listen for a moment, and then came a smile of recognition. + + * * * * * + +Less than ten minutes after Miss Winthrop had handed over the +typewritten letters of instruction to Grayson for signature, and while +he still sat turning them over in his hands, the door opened and The +Thinking Machine entered. He tossed a folded sheet of paper on the desk +before Grayson, and went straight to Miss Winthrop. + +"So you did know Mr. Ralph Matthews after all?" he inquired. + +The girl rose from her desk, and a flash of some subtle emotion passed +over her face. "What do you mean, sir?" she demanded. + +"You might as well remove the silver box," The Thinking Machine went on +mercilessly. "There is no further need of the connection." + +Miss Winthrop glanced down at the telephone extension on her desk, and +her hand darted toward it. The silver "vanity" box was directly under +the receiver, supporting it, so that all weight was removed from the +hook, and the line was open. She snatched the box and the receiver +dropped back on the hook. The Thinking Machine turned to Grayson. + +"It was Miss Winthrop," he said. + +"Miss Winthrop!" exclaimed Grayson, "I can't believe it!" + +"Read the paper I gave you, Mr. Grayson," directed The Thinking Machine +coldly. "Perhaps that will enlighten her." + +The financier opened the sheet, which had remained folded in his hand, +and glanced at what was written there. Slowly he read it aloud: +"PEABODY--Sell ten thousand shares L. & W. at 97. MCCRACKEN Co.--Sell +ten thousand shares L. & W. at 97." He read on down the list, +bewildered. Then gradually, as he realized the import of what he read, +there came a hardening of the lines about his mouth. + +"I understand, Miss Winthrop," he said at last. "This is the substance +of the orders I dictated, and in some way you made them known to persons +for whom they were not intended. I don't know how you did it, of course; +but I understand that you did do it, so----" He stepped to the door and +opened it with grave courtesy. "You may go now." + +Miss Winthrop made no plea--merely bowed and went out. Grayson stood +staring after her for a moment, then turned to The Thinking Machine and +motioned him to a chair. "What happened?" he asked briskly. + +"Miss Winthrop is a tremendously clever woman," replied The Thinking +Machine. "She neglected to tell you, however, that besides being a +stenographer and typist she is also a telegraph operator. She is so +expert in each of her lines that she combined the two, if I may say it +that way. In other words, in writing on the typewriter, she was clever +enough to be able to _give the click of the machine the patterns in the +Morse telegraphic code_--so that another telegraph operator at the other +end of the 'phone could hear her machine and translate the clicks into +words." + +Grayson sat staring at him incredulously. "I still don't understand," he +said finally. + +The Thinking Machine rose and went to Miss Winthrop's desk. "Here is an +extension telephone with the receiver on the hook. It happens that the +little silver box which you gave Miss Winthrop is just tall enough to +lift this receiver clear of the hook, and the minute the receiver is off +the hook the line is open. When you were at your desk and she was here, +you couldn't see this telephone; therefore it was a simple matter for +her to lift the receiver, and place the silver box underneath, thus +holding the line open permanently. That being true, the sound of the +typewriter--_the striking of the keys_--would go over the open wire to +whoever was listening at the other end. Then, if the striking of the +keys typed out your letters and, by their frequency and pauses, +simultaneously tapped out telegraphic code, an outside operator could +read your letters at the same moment they were being written. That is +all. It required extreme concentration on Miss Winthrop's part to type +accurately in Morse rhythms." + +"Oh, I see!" exclaimed Grayson. + +"When I knew that the leak in your office was not in the usual way," +continued The Thinking Machine, "I looked for the unusual. There is +nothing very mysterious about it now--it was merely clever." + +"Clever!" repeated Grayson, and his jaws snapped. "It is more than that. +Why, it's criminal! She should be prosecuted." + +"I shouldn't advise that, Mr. Grayson," returned the scientist coldly. +"If it is honest--merely business--to juggle stocks as you told me you +did, this is no more dishonest. And besides, remember that Miss Winthrop +is backed by the people who have made millions out of you, and--well, I +wouldn't prosecute. It is betrayal of trust, certainly; but--" He rose +as if that were all, and started toward the door. "I would advise you, +however, to discharge the person who operates your switchboard." + +"Was she in the scheme, too?" demanded Grayson. He rushed out of the +private office into the main office. At the door he met a clerk coming +in. + +"Where is Miss Mitchell?" demanded the financier hotly. + +"I was just coming to tell you that she went out with Miss Winthrop just +now without giving any explanation," replied the clerk. + +"Good day, Mr. Grayson," said The Thinking Machine. + +The financier nodded his thanks, then stalked back into his room. + + * * * * * + +In the course of time The Thinking Machine received a check for ten +thousand dollars, signed, "J. Morgan Grayson." He glared at it for a +little while, then indorsed it in a crabbed hand, _Pay to the Trustees' +Home for Crippled Children_, and sent Martha, his housekeeper, out to +mail it. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Leak, by Jacques Futrelle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEAK *** + +***** This file should be named 37146.txt or 37146.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/1/4/37146/ + +Produced by David Starner, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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