There was no signature or date to this extraordinary document, and the two men wondered at it for a minute, then Foster looked up suddenly.
"How do you know this is from the wife?" he asked, sharply.
Mrs. Taunton pointed to the letters.
"Of course, I have not read them," she said, coldly; "but you will see the writing on the envelopes corresponds with that in the letter."
And so it did, in every particular; so Monteith and Foster both came to the conclusion that this wife must have killed Verschoyle, seeing that she had threatened him thus, and the crime was committed at Malta, where she lived--the proofs were so clear.
"What are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Taunton, impatiently.
"I have a detective in my employment, called Julian Roper," said Monteith, slowly; "and if you give me this paper, I will show it to him--then he must go out to Valletta--find out where Mrs. Verschoyle lives, and ascertain her movements on the night the crime was committed."
"And he must also get some of her writing, to see if it corresponds with this," said Foster, pointing to the paper.
"When will he start?" asked Mrs. Taunton, quickly.
"To-morrow, by a P. and O. steamer," said Monteith; "and we will hear all particulars from him in a fortnight."