The Thinking Machine Collected Stories Part 136

"Granted--"

"Impossible-put-all-money-one-bag-will-use-three."

"Satisfactory-remember-our-warning."

"You-have-our-pledge."

As the last word of the message went hurtling off into s.p.a.ce, The Thinking Machine scrambled down the sea ladder and was rowed ash.o.r.e. From his own home, half an hour later, he called Hutchinson Hatch on the telephone.

"I want," he said, "three large suit cases, one pair of extra-heavy rubber gloves, ten miles of electric wire well insulated, three Edison transformers, one fast automobile, permission to tap the Abington trolley wire, and two dozen ham sandwiches."

Hatch laughed. He was accustomed to the eccentricities of this little man of science.

"You shall have them," he promised.

"Bring everything to my house at midnight."

"Right!"

Looking back upon it later, Hatch decided he had never worked so hard in his life as he did that night; in addition to which he had the satisfaction of not knowing just what he was doing. There were telephone poles to be climbed, and shallow trenches to be dug and immediately filled in so no trace of their existence remained, and miles of electric wire to be hauled through thickly weeded fields. Dawn was breaking when everything seemed to be done.

"This," remarked The Thinking Machine, "is where the ham sandwiches are useful."

They breakfasted upon them, after which The Thinking Machine went away, leaving Hatch to watch the small dial of some sort of an indicator attached to a wire. At noon the scientist returned, and, without a word, took the reporter's place at the dial. At thirty-three minutes past four the hand of the indicator suddenly shot around to one side, and the scientist arose.

"We have caught a fish," he said. "Come on!"

They were in the automobile, speeding along the highway, before Hatch spoke.

"What sort of fish?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know," was the reply. "A person, or persons, have picked up one or more of those suit cases to the bottom of which our electric wire is connected. He is unable to let go-he, or they, as the case may be. He will be unconscious when we reach him."

"Dead, you mean," said Hatch grimly. "The current from that trolley wire--"

"Unconscious," The Thinking Machine corrected. "The current is reduced. There is a transformer in each of the suit cases. The wiring extends up through the handles where the insulation is stripped off."

Three, four, nearly five, miles they went like the wind; then the motor car stopped with a jerk, and Hatch, taking advantage of his longer legs, galloped off through the open field toward the lone tree in the center. The thing he saw caused him to stop suddenly and raise his hands in horror. Upon the ground in front of him was the convulsed figure of a young man, foreign-looking, distinguished even. His distorted face, livid now, was turned upward, and his hands were gripped to the suit case by the powerful electric current.

"Who is it?" queried the scientist.

"Crown Prince Otto Ludwig, of Germania-Austria!"

"What?" The question came violently, a single burst of amazement. And again: "What?" There was an expression on The Thinking Machine's face the like of which Hatch had never seen there before. "It's a possibility I had never considered. So he wanted the five million--" Suddenly his whole manner changed. "Let's get him to the motor."

With rubber-gloved hands, he cut the wire which held the crown prince prisoner, and the unconscious man fell back limply, as if dead. Five minutes later they had lifted him into the tonneau, and The Thinking Machine bent over him anxiously, with his hand on his wrist.

"Where to?" asked Hatch.

"Anywhere, and fast!" was the reply. "I must think."

Oblivious of the swaying and clatter of the huge car, The Thinking Machine sat silent for minute after minute as it sped on over the smooth road. Finally he seemed satisfied. He leaned forward, and touched Hatch on the shoulder.

"It's all right," he said. "We'll go aboard ship now."

Late that night the crown prince, himself again, but with badly burned hands, explained. He had been stupefied by chloroform, kidnaped, and lowered over the battleship rail in utter darkness. His impression was that he had been taken away in a small boat which had m.u.f.fled oars. When he recovered, he found himself a prisoner in a deserted country house, with two men on guard. He didn't know the name of either.

Calmly enough, the three of them discussed the affair in all its aspects. They could devise no safe means of communicating with the ship until he suggested the wireless. He even aided in the erection of a station between two tall trees on a remote hill somewhere. One of his guards, meanwhile, had to master the code. He had become fairly proficient when they saw the advertis.e.m.e.nt in the newspapers.

"But how is it you went to get the money?" the scientist questioned curiously.

"The men feared treachery," was the explanation. "They were willing to take my word of honor that I would get it and return with it, after which I was to be free. A prince of the royal house of Germania-Austria may not break his word of honor."

Tiny corrugations in the domelike brow of the scientist caused Hatch to stare at him expectantly; even as he looked they pa.s.sed.

"Mr. Hatch," he said abruptly, "I have heard you refer to certain newspaper stories as 'peaches' and 'corkers' and what not. How would you cla.s.s this?"

"This," said the reporter enthusiastically, "this is a bird!"

"It has only one defect," remarked The Thinking Machine. "It cannot be printed."

One eminent scientist who had achieved the seemingly impossible, and one disgusted newspaper reporter were rowed ash.o.r.e at midnight.

"What do you think of it all, anyhow?" demanded Hatch suddenly.

"I have no opinion to express," declared The Thinking Machine crabbedly. "The prince has come to his own again; that is sufficient."

Some weeks later Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen was decorated with the Order of the Iron Eagle by Emperor Gustavus, of Germania-Austria. Reflectively he twisted the elaborate jeweled bauble in his slender fingers; then returned to his worktable under the great electric light. For a minute or more tiny corrugations appeared in his forehead; finally they pa.s.sed as that strange mind of his became absorbed in the thing he was doing.

PROBLEM OF THE ORGAN GRINDER.

Hutchinson Hatch, reporter, was standing in a corner with both hands in his coat pockets. Just three inches to the left of his second waistcoat b.u.t.ton was the point of a stiletto, and he glanced at it from time to time in frank uneasiness, then his eyes returned to the flushed, tense face of the girl who held it. She was Italian. Her eyes were splendidly black, and there was a gleam in them that was anything but rea.s.suring. Her scarlet lips were parted slightly, disclosing small, regular, white teeth clenched tightly together. A brilliant multicolored headdress partially confined her hair and rippled down about her shoulders. Her skirt was barely to her ankles.

"I feel like the third act of an Italian comic opera," Hatch thought grimly. Then aloud, "What is all this?"

"You must be silent, signor!" warned the young woman in excellent English.

"I am going to be," Hatch explained; "but still I should like to--"

"You must be silent, signor!" the girl repeated. "No, don't take your hands from your pockets!"

"But look here!"

The stiletto point was pressed in until he felt it against his flesh. He winced involuntarily, but wisely held his tongue. It was a time to stand perfectly still and wait. He had come to the tenement in the course of his professional duties, and had rapped on this door to inquire in which apartment a certain family lived. The door had been opened by the young woman-and now this! He didn't understand it; he didn't even make a pretense of conjecturing what it meant. He just kept on standing still.

From outside came the varied noises of a busy city. Inside the gloom grew about him, and gradually the rigid, motionless figure of the girl became a shadowy silhouette. Then an electric arc light outside, which happened to be on a level with a window, spluttered and flashed into brilliance almost blinding him. Through the murk of the room only their motionless figures were visible.