“Do you mean to tell me that Rex was writing letters to himself?” asked Tab incredulously.
She nodded.
“There is no doubt at all,” she said. “When you told me Mr. Trasmere had left a will in his own handwriting, I nearly fainted. I knew then just what had happened, who was the murderer and why Mr. Trasmere had been murdered.”
Carver rubbed his unshaven chin.
“I wish I could find Lander,” he said half to himself.
“How long did Rex have this idea?”
Tab broke the silence which followed.
“For years, ever since—” he hesitated.
“Ever since he first saw me?” said the girl miserably.
“Before then. There was another lady upon whom he set his heart,” replied Carver. “Lander, as I say, had to hurry up his scheme when he found that the money was going to be left away. He was only waiting his opportunity. The plan had been completed to the smallest detail. He had practiced with the key trick assiduously, and he decided to put the plan into operation on the day the murder was committed. He knew that his uncle generally spent his Saturday afternoons in the vault, that the doors leading to the vault would be open. His first job was to get rid of the servant. By some means he discovered that Walters was a crook: I have an idea that there was a time when Lander was an industrious student of crime, and I seem to remember somebody telling me that he used to spend hours at the ‘Megaphone’ library and made himself very unpopular in consequence.”