Caulkins picked up the message from Double Z. He spread it and pointed to the signature.
“Who is Double Z?” he asked.
“I shall tell you, Caulkins,” replied Tolland. “His name is an important one. There is method in everything he does even in that signature. What does it represent to you?”
“Double Z. Two initials. I can think of no one who would have such initials.”
Judge Tolland seized the paper.
“Look now!” he declared, moving his finger across the signature. “Does that mean anything to you?
Forget Double Z. Think of a big man — a powerful, prominent man whose initials are—”
Caulkins suddenly stiffened. A startled look of incredulity came into his widening eyes. Before he could reply, Tolland picked up a pen and paper from the table and wrote a series of short lines, inscribing his signature beneath.
“There!” he exclaimed in a voice of indignation. “There is the name of the fiend — the merciless murderer! I have written it, with my signature beneath. That is my statement to you. Tell your paper; tell the police. When it is safe, you can count on me to testify!”
Caulkins leaped to the telephone. He dialed a number. He stood, with both papers on the table before him, studying one and then the other, his eyes bulging, his breath coming in anxious gasps.