The very audacity of it, moreover, was additional evidence of the true identity of the writer. For it corresponded with many a previous display of effrontery which had, in connection with his extraordinary crimes, made the name of Mortimer Deland notorious.
Nick turned and displayed the letter when Chick and Patsy entered.
“Do you recognize the hand?” he inquired.
“By Jove, it looks like that which Conroy showed us,” Chick said quickly. “I can almost swear to it.”
“I think so, too.”
“We can clinch it easily enough, chief,” put in Patsy. “I still have the tracery I made. We came away in such a hurry, chief, that I did not put it in your desk.”
“Let me see it,” said Nick. “I will compare them.”
It took him only a moment to satisfy himself that he was right. There were peculiarities in the fine, feminine hand that left him no shadow of a doubt.
“It is dead open and shut,” he declared. “Vaughn is none other than Mortimer Deland. The bizarre character of this crime, moreover, is directly in line with his work abroad.”
“That’s true, chief, for fair,” said Patsy. “Who else would have thought of using a casket, florist’s boxes, and an undertaker’s wagon for getting away with a big lot of plunder? The job——”