The note was signed “Josephine Dell.”
Abruptly Bertha Cool reached a decision. She said to the blind man, “There’s one thing I want you to do for me.”
“What?”
“I want you to let me have this note.”
“It’s rather a keepsake. I can’t read it, of course, but I—”
“You can have it back,” Bertha said, “within a day or two, but I want to take it.”
“Oh, all right, just so you bring it back — as soon as you can, please. You could drive by the little place where I live — 1672 Fairmead Avenue — if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Sure thing,” Bertha promised affably. “I’ll get it back to you.”
Bertha tucked the note into her purse and went to a handwriting expert whom she knew.
“Look,” she said. “I don’t want to be played for a sucker. I don’t want you to take a lot of photographs and wrap your opinion up in a lot of hooey, but here’s a Photostat of a will. One of the subscribing witnesses is a Josephine Dell. Here’s a note actually signed by Josephine Dell. I know that’s her signature. Now this signature on the will may be a forgery. I want to find out. And you’ll notice the first part of the second page. The language seems different in some way from the rest of the will.”