“You would not go further?”
“I don’t believe so. It is obvious that Chatham wrote to Wilkinson, and later gave him the note. I only wonder why Chatham left the note there after the murder.”
The cab stopped in front of the building where Burke’s office was located. Clarendon placed his hand on the other man’s arm, just as Burke was about to leave the taxi.
“One moment, Burke,” Clarendon spoke in a low voice. “You remember that you said you would like to reject the obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Yet you regard it as obvious that Chatham wrote both the letters and the promissory note. You believe that fact, just as the police believe it.
“They looked at the signatures just to check up — and I saw you do the same.
“You were interested in the contents of the letters and the amount of the note. But I was interested in the signatures alone. Thus I learned—”
Clarendon paused and looked steadily at Burke. The ex-reporter had opened the door of the cab, and had one foot on the step. But now he hesitated in astonishment, as something began to dawn upon him.
“What I learned must be kept secret by you and myself,” said Clarendon. “Both the letters and the note bore the same signature— yet there were minute differences between the signature on the note and those on the letters. Therefore I believe—”