Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-07-07

the door behind bl1n. Carroll and Young
stood staring down curiously at the man who
now lay stretched full length on the couch.
They looked at the cashier inquiringly.
" | think 1t a matter Tor the police, con-
tnued the cashier after a moment, and he
picked up the receiver of the telephone.
stammered Carroll.
Il don't know. Hello! Police headquar-
Anything missing. SIR" inquired Young.
Not so far we know" was the reply.
Don't make any excitement about it, please.
He is breathing yet. isn't he"
Yes" answered Carroll. "He doesn't
seem to be hurt-just unconscious"
"Lacb, of air said the cashier He must
have been in there all night. It's enough to
kill him. Hello! l want to speak to the
chief of detectives Mr.. Mallory. YES. This
is the Grandson National Bank, Mr. Mallory.
Can you come down at once, please, and in
vestlgate matter OF great Importance;
Fifteen minutes later Detective Mallory
walked into the cashiers private Office. In
stantly his eyes fell upon the recunbe1t figure
on the couch. and there came with the glimpse
a strange, startled expression;
Well for" he blurted. Where did YOU
get hold of him."
81 found him in the vault just now when
opened it," was the reply " Do You know him."
Know him." beloved Detective Mallory.
Know him. Why it's Professor Van Dusen,
a distinguished scientist. He's the fellow they
call The Thinking Machine sometimes" He
paused incredulously. Have YOU sent for a
doctor: Well, send for one quick
With the tender of mother for her
child the detective lowered about the couch
whereon The Thinking Machine lay, having
first opened the window, and pausing now
and then to swear roundly at the physicians
delay in arriving. And at last the doctor
came. Quick restorativeS brought the SCI
enlist to consciousness within few minutes.
All, Mr.. Mallory" he remarked weakly.
"Please have the doors locked, and put some
body you can trust on guard Don't let any
one out III explain in minute or So.
The detective rushed out OF the room re-
turning moment later. He found The Think
ing Machine talking to the cashier
Have You man named Cranston en-
ploved here in the bank"
Yes" replied the cashier.
Arrest him, Mr.. Mallory" directed The
Thinking Machine Doctor, just the least
bit Of nitroglycerin, please, in my left arm,
here. And also, Mr. Mallory, arrest any par
tcular chum of this man Cranston: also
young man, almost boy, possibly employed
with Cranston's chum. That will do, doctor.
Thanks Anything stoen?'
The detective glanced inquiringly at the
cashier.
No" replied that official
The Thinking Machine dropped back the
couch closed his eyes, and lay silent for
moment
Pretty bad pulse, doctor" he remarked at
last. Charge your hypodernlc again. What
bank is this, Mr.. Mallory"
Grandson National" the detective in
formed him. What happened to youe How
did it come you were in the vault"
1T was awful Mr.. Malory-awful, believe
me-" was the reply. "I'll tell You about it
after awhile. Meanwhile be sure to get Gran
ston and"
And he tainted.
Twenty-four hours rest in his own home,
under the watchful eye of a physician, re-
stored The Thinking Machine to a physical
condition almost normal. But the WINS and
wherefors of his mysterious presence in the
vault OF the bank were still matters of eager
speculation, but speculation only. to both the
police and the bank officials. His last words,
before being removed 10 his own apartments,
had been a warning against the further use
OF the vault; but no explanation accompan-
led it.
Meanwhile Detective Mallory and his men
rounded up three prSoners-Harry Cranston,
a middle aged and long trusted employee of
the bank; David Ellis Burge, a young r1echan-
ical engineer with whom Cranston had been
upon terms of great intimacy for many months;
and Richard Folsom, a stalwart Young nephew
OF Burgess, himself a student of mechanical
engineering. They were held upon charges
born III the fertile mind of Detective Mallory,
Carefully isolated from one another and from
the outside.
The Thinking Machine told his story in de-
tail, incident by incident, from the moment of