“No.” Curtis smiled. “You simply forgot that that grade of paper rustles badly. It required no particular art of divination to detect you, but don’t try to fool me again, Hollister.”
The lawyer colored hotly, bit his lip, hesitated, then took out the paper and put it with the others in the drawer.
“I kept it out on impulse,” he said apologetically. “I don’t know why, unless it was that John’s handwriting in that notation seemed a bit shaky.”
“Was there room to complete his sentence?” Hollister took the paper from the drawer again and extended it toward Curtis. “Feel here,” he said, and guided Curtis’ fingers over the lower right-hand corner. “What do you find?”
“That the corner has been cut off diagonally,” replied Curtis. He ran his hand over the sheet. “The other corners are untouched.”
“Just so.” Hollister crossed his short legs and assumed a more comfortable attitude. “Well, the notation is just above the corner and runs from edge to edge of the paper. It reads: ‘Contents of safe deposit box belongs to’—the name must have been written just beneath it.”
“And cut off.” Curtis handed back the paper. “Put it away, Hollister. The question now is, did Meredith cut off the corner or did some one else? And if so, with what object?”
“And what has the contents of the safe deposit box to do with John’s murder and the disappearance of the codicil and the prenuptial agreement?” demanded Hollister, his excitement mounting.
“The answer to that will be found when his safe deposit box is opened,” replied Curtis dryly. “Does Coroner Penfield know of this safe deposit box?”
“I told him that John had a box at the Metropolis Bank,” answered Hollister. “We have taken steps to have it opened in the presence of the Registrar of Wills and the bank officials to-morrow morning.”