“Ah! That’s what I asked myself. Obviously, he couldn’t. He’d have to get that done for him. Presumably he’d get some stranger to do it. That’s why I advertised for a professional eraser who was experienced, judging that it would fetch the person who had done Honeywell’s work.”
“Is there any such thing as a professional envelope eraser?” asked Bertram.
“No. So a person of experience in this line would be almost unique. I was sure to find the right one, if he or she saw my advertisement. As a matter of fact, it turned out to be an unimaginative young woman who has told me all about her former employment with Mr. Honeywell, apparently with no thought that there was anything strange in erasing cancellations from hundreds of envelopes—for Honeywell was cautious enough not to confine her to the Robinson mail alone—and then pasting on stamps to remail them.”
“You appear to have followed out my moves with some degree of acumen, Mr.—er—Jones,” said the blind schemer suavely.
“Yet I might not have solved your processes easily if you had not made one rather—if you will pardon me, stupid mistake.”
For the first time, the man’s bloated lips shook. His evil pride of intellectuality was stung.
“You lie!” he said hastily. “I do not make mistakes.”
“No? Well, have it as you will. The point that you are to sign here a statement, which I shall read to you before these witnesses, announcing for publication the withdrawal of your contest for the Honeywell millions.”
“And if I decline?”
“The painful necessity will be mine of turning over these instructive documents to the United States postal authorities. But not before giving them to the newspapers. How would you look in court, in view of this attempt to murder a fellow man’s reason?”