“That looks like it!” chuckled old Jimmy. “It’s dated August sixteenth, nineteen hundred and twelve, isn’t it? Now, sir, will you read it out loud, please?”
Blaine unfolded the single sheet of hotel note-paper, and looked once more at the following message:
My Dear Mallowe:
Kindly regard this letter as strictly
confidential. I desire to negotiate a private loan immediately,
for a considerable amount,–three hundred
and fifty thousand dollars, in fact,–but
for obvious reasons, which you, as a man of
discretion and financial astuteness second to
none in this country, will readily understand, a
public assumption of it by me would be disastrous
to a degree, under the prevailing conditions. Ask
Moore if he can arrange the matter for me, but
feel him out tentatively first. If he does not see
his way clear to it, let me know without delay,
and I will come to Illington and confer with
you.
I am prepared, of course, to give him my personal
note for same, but do not desire any direct
dealings with him. In fact, it would be exceedingly
dangerous to my interests if he ever mentioned
it to me personally, even when he fancied
himself alone with me. Impress this upon him.
I will pay far above the legal rate of interest, of
course. You can arrange this with him.
I will go into the whole matter of this contingency
confidentially with you when I see you. In
the meantime, I know that I can rely upon you.
Awaiting the earliest possible reply, and thanking
you for the interest I know you will take
in this affair,
Sincerely, your friend,
Pennington Lawton.
After glancing at it a moment Blaine read the letter aloud in a calm, unemotional voice which gave no hint of the tumult within him. He had scarcely finished when Jimmy Brunell, greatly excited, interrupted triumphantly:
“That’s it! That’s the note! Don’t see anything phony about it, do you, sir? Neither did they! Now, leave out the ‘My dear Mallowe,’ and beginning with the next as the first line, count down five lines. The last 298 letter of the last word on that line is f, isn’t it? Omit a line and take the last letter of the next, and so on for four letters––that is, the last words of the four alternate lines beginning with the fifth from the top are: of, a, ask, and see, and the last letters of those four spell a word. That word is fake, and so is the note, and the whole infernal business! Fake, from beginning to end! I put my mark on it, sir, so it could be known for what it is, in case of need. Now the need has come.”
“By Jove, so it is!” Guy Morrow cried, unable to restrain himself longer. “You’re a wonder, Mr. Brunell!”
“You have rendered us a greater service than you know,” supplemented Blaine, the while his pulses throbbed in time to his leaping heart. The crevice! The rift in the criminal’s almost perfected scheme, into which he had succeeded in inserting the little silver probe of his specialized knowledge, and disclosed to a gaping world the truth! He had found it at last, and his work was all but done.
“But what’s to happen to me now?” The exultation had died out of his voice, and Jimmy Brunell looked suddenly pinched and gray and tired, and very, very old. “I don’t care much what happens to me, but my daughter––Emily––”