The telautograph was writing again, obedient to Kennedy's signal that he was satisfied with the signature.
"… in consideration of Craig Kennedy's agreement to destroy even this record, agree to give him such information as he has asked for, after which no further demands are to be made and the facts as already publicly recorded are to stand."
"Just witness it," asked Kennedy of us. "It is a gentleman's agreement among us all."
Nervously we set our names to the thing, only too eager to keep the secret if we could further the case on which we had been almost literally sweating blood so long.
Prepared though we were for some startling disclosures, it was, nevertheless, with a feeling almost of faintness that we saw the stylus above moving again.
"The Black Book, as you call it," it wrote, "has been sent by messenger to be deposited in escrow with the Gotham Trust Company to be delivered, Tuesday, the third of November, on the written order of Craig Kennedy and John Carton. An officer of the trust company will notify you of its receipt immediately, which will close the entire transaction as far as I am concerned."
Kennedy could not wait. He had already seized his own telephone and was calling a number.
"They have it," he announced a moment later, scrawling the information on the transmitter of the telautograph.
A moment it was still, then it wrote again.
"Good-bye and good luck," it traced. "Murtha!"