"The formula is gone."

"That's it, is it?" gritted the detective. "I am sure you are
right, Miss Pomeroy. We have a reason for the deed now, and one
clew to act on." He opened his hand and showed her the piece of
cloth that poor little Beatrice had torn from the intruder's
garment.

"Did you ever see anything like this before?" he asked. "That is
an unusual pattern. You have a lot of extra help here just now.
Did you ever notice a coat or a cap like this?"

Elinor shook her head. "Never," she said.

"Well, don't you fret, Miss Pomeroy. We'll have to find that
coat. The man who wears it has the formula. And it won't take
long to run down a man who owns a giddy plaid like that. If your
brother could only speak, he could help a lot."

"Is he no better?" asked the girl fearfully.

"It's a pretty bad affair, I'm afraid," said the Chief
regretfully. "He'll pull through all right after a while, I
think, but the doctors say there is a piece of bone pressing on
the brain; and they may have to operate. In the meantime, we
can't wait. You see this business of the formula puts things on
a different basis. I will have to get the government secret
service men here as soon as I possibly can. It is a national
affair now. Keep cool, Miss Pomeroy, and don't talk to any one.