"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.