“I was already satisfied that Rogers was the murderer when I talked with you and your sister in the arbor, but I chose to say nothing of the fact at that time. Now I have additional proof. You will remember that I asked you if you used purple ink on your desk?”
“Yes.”
“There were stains of purple ink in the thumb and finger of Orizaba’s right hand. I asked you if he wrote with his left hand and you replied that he used both. Let me tell you now that he has used his left hand to rob you, systematically, for a long time. You have been careless with your check-book and with your balances, so you have not discovered the fact, but here is a check he drew on your desk last night—a check for a much larger amount than he has ever dared to take before, doubtless, since the drawing of it made his hand tremble so that he spoiled the signature and was obliged to draw a second one. The second one is perfect. I found it in your valet’s room, where he dropped it by mistake, showing that it was given to him, that both were drawn for him, that he was in the room with Orizaba at the time they were drawn—in short, that he was the third person whom your sister saw and believed to be you. Moreover, he is of your height and build, and in one of the drawers of his bureau there is a false mustache exactly like yours, which is still soft from recent use; so that it is not strange that your sister believed she saw you in the dim light. The lights, by the way, he turned off for the purpose of his work, and then turned on again when that work was done and he was ready to depart, in order that you might not see the difference and wonder at it. Also, while upon this subject, a trivial matter, but one of interest, in connection with the checks, is the fact that the ink inside Orizaba’s fountain pen is black. Also, Orizaba carried a key which fits your desk and another which fits the casket.
“Also, like all expert forgers, he carried his own blotter with him. Fortunately in this case it was one that he had not used before, and bears a very good impression of the two signatures he signed last night.
“Now, in Orizaba’s room I found many letters which partially explain these mysteries; but only partially. We will have to conjecture for the rest. At sometime in the career of Orizaba he had married and deserted a woman who died in misery and want, and since that time he has been pursued by a Nemesis in the shape of her brother who has taken a vengeance that is truly Satanic, for he has held over Orizaba’s head all these years—ten of them—the threat of imminent death, and, what is still more remarkable, he has during that time managed to extort money from his victim, while he has himself remained so darkly in the background that Orizaba has never once guessed his identity.
“Of the occurrences of last night—or, rather of early this morning, I can only surmise, but either by appointment, or because the man was awaiting him, he encountered the man who he believed to be the agent of his Nemesis between the station and this house. They walked away in another direction, and so got the clay on their shoes. That agent was Rogers, but so cleverly disguised that Orizaba did not recognize him—probably the agent was so familiar to him that he never thought of connecting him with Rogers, having known him a much longer time.
“When they met last night Rogers was insistent for a larger amount of money than usual, and finally accompanied Orizaba to your rooms. Orizaba was at your desk preparing to draw the check when you entered the room. Rogers was here also, for they believed you were asleep in a chair on the piazza. When you entered Rogers concealed himself, and he remained concealed until you had composed yourself to sleep on the couch. Then he chloroformed you, and the proceedings continued. Rogers then took his check and went out, and Orizaba, overcome by all that had happened, dropped asleep in the chair.
“Presently, for some reason, Rogers returned. Doubtless he had intended to kill Orizaba last night, since the encounter on the road. He administered more chloroform to you on the couch, and then performed the remainder of the ceremony as your sister has described it to us, for she saw it.
“And now, Reginald, there is just one point about which I am at fault, but which I think this letter will possibly explain. I found it in Rogers’ room, addressed to you, and I have not yet broken the seal. Before I do so I will explain the point to which I referred.
“Your Cadillac needle was not the instrument which killed Orizaba. He was killed with a steel needle—a furrier’s needle—but the cork handle of your glass needle was used to press it into the flesh. The glass needle was removed and the steel one substituted for it, but why I do not know. Let us see now if this letter will inform us. Listen.”