The door closed again, whereupon Frank promptly arose and locked it.
“There!” he muttered; “that will keep her out. Just take a look at this thing, professor. It is a curiosity.”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed the little man, having adjusted his spectacles and peered at the envelope. “How remarkable!”
“It is a trifle bizarre. We will see what it contains.”
He tore open the envelope and extracted the single sheet of paper which it contained. On that sheet, written in the same scrawling backhand, the ink being red, were these words:
“You have felt the grip! When it closes on you again it will crush out your life! There is no escape.”
“Cæsar’s ghost!” gurgled the professor, when he had made out what was written there. “What is the meaning of that, Frank?”
“It is a threat, but why I am threatened is more than I can understand. Let’s make a comparison.”
Then he took from his pocket the note which he had received at the racetrack that day, unfolded it, and placed it on the little center table beside the one just received.
“See if you can discover a likeness in the handwriting, professor,” he invited.