“It appears to be a letter,” replied Virginia, who was by now convinced that she had to do with a man who was mentally unhinged.
“And perhaps you note to whom it is addressed,” said the man significantly, holding it out to her.
“I can read,” Virginia informed him pleasantly. “It is addressed to a Captain O’Neill at Rue de Quenelles No. 15, Paris.”
The man seemed searching her face hungrily for something he did not find.
“Will you read it, please?”
Virginia took the envelope from him, drew out the enclosure and glanced at it; but almost immediately she stiffened and held it out to him again.
“This is a private letter—certainly not meant for my eyes.”
The man laughed sardonically.
“I congratulate you, Mrs. Revel, on your admirable acting. You play your part to perfection. Nevertheless, I think that you will hardly be able to deny the signature!”
“The signature?”