“Felton was called out of the room for a moment and I slipped the blotter in my pocket to examine it at my leisure. When I returned to the hotel I made an investigation, and I discovered—but I will let you see for yourself. Hand me that small mirror on the wall.”
Ashley does so. The detective takes his prize from a bundle of papers in his pocket, smooths it flat on the table, and places the mirror perpendicularly before it. Then he draws the lamp over and remarks complacently: “Look here upon this picture!”
And this is what Ashley sees as he gazes upon the reflecting surface. There are three groups of characters. The first group reads:
“Come to the bank immediately—”
The second:
“Your personal account overdrawn—”
And the third:
“These things I charge you fail not, Cyrus Felton, at the peril of your good name. Roger Hathaway.”
“Jove! It reads like an accusation!” cries Ashley, dropping back into his chair.
“It is an accusation!” declares the detective, with the ring of triumph in his voice.