Burke had another thought.
Perhaps Chatham had actually signed the note, but had disguised his normal signature. Perhaps Wilkinson had observed the difference, and had mentioned it to Chatham. That might have led to the murder.
But why had Chatham left the false note in Wilkinson’s study?
Burke’s hand was busy as he thought. Almost subconsciously, he was writing the figures 30,000 all over the sheet of paper.
Now he was placing dollar marks in front of the figures on the sheet, and was repeating, half aloud, the words: “Thirty thousand dollars.”
“Quite a bit of money,” said a voice beside him.
Burke nearly toppled from his chair. He looked up, a startled expression on his face, to see George Clarendon standing near him. The man was smiling— that strange smile that Burke had noticed yesterday.
GEORGE CLARENDON sat down in the other chair, and Burke waited for him to speak. The ex-reporter was usually alert; hence he marveled at the way in which Clarendon could arrive, unheard and unseen.
“This case puzzles you,” said the visitor.
Burke nodded.