There was no signature.
“How do you know this is the right one?” Gimblet asked sharply.
“The young person at the office happened to remember it, sir. It was handed in, enclosed in an envelope, and when she opened it and saw there was no signature she ran out after the footman, intending to ask that the space at the back of the form, where the name and address is requested for reference only, should be filled in. She was only in time to see the motor drive away. Still, it stamped the message on her memory, especially as there was some change to give back.”
“She may easily be mistaken,” grumbled the detective.
“I thought you might not be satisfied, sir,” said Higgs, “so I went on to Grosvenor Street and asked the butler to let me have a specimen of Miss Turner’s writing. I didn’t tell him why I wanted it, of course. I just let him think a letter had been found and that you wanted something to identify it by,” added Higgs, with some pride. He produced a menu as he spoke, written in a large round hand. “Miss Turner always writes the menus in Grosvenor Street,” he explained.
Gimblet took it and compared it with the telegram. It was easy to see that both had been written by the same person.