“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. Fin
