He sent the clippings when instructed; and the method of transmission was to place the clippings in an envelope and deposit it in the door of a dingy office in a building on Twenty-third Street.
The name on the door was M. Jonas. Burke had never inquired who Jonas might be. He fancied that the man was simply a friend of Clarendon’s. The office had always been locked; and Burke had never seen any one there.
Now Clarendon had appeared; had explained that he was a criminologist; and had partly taken Burke into his confidence.
That was not surprising to Burke. He realized that his mysterious benefactor was a man of intuition.
Clarendon must know that Burke could be trusted.
There is a spirit of loyalty that governs every experienced newspaperman. Clarendon had evidently seen it in Burke.
Sitting at his desk, the ex-reporter reverted to the Wilkinson murder. He examined some of the clippings; then laid them aside, and taking paper and pencil, began to jot down rough ideas.
Granting that Chatham’s note for thirty thousand dollars was a forgery— what did it signify?
The possession of a forged note by Seth Wilkinson might have been a sufficient reason for Chatham to kill the man. Yet that note was dated at the time of the murder!
It could have been made out by no other than Chatham himself— unless Wilkinson had forged it in Chatham’s presence.