"Tell the elevator boy
to report that a fuse has burned out in Mr. Rochester's apartment,"
Ferguson called after him, and the lad waved his hand as he dashed
into the elevator.
Paying no attention to the detective's call, Kent showed him a
white envelope which bore the simple address:
PHILIP ROCHESTER, ESQ.
THE SARATOGA
"It's the identical envelope I found in your safe," declared
Ferguson.
"And which disappeared last night at the Club de Vingt." Kent
turned over the envelope. "See, the red seal."
For a minute the men contemplated the seal with the large
distinctive letter "B" in the center.
"Open the letter, sir," Ferguson urged and Kent, his fingers fairly
trembling, jerked and tore at the linen incased envelope; the flap
ripped away and he opened the envelope - it was empty.
Instinctively the two men glanced down at the parquetry flooring;
nothing but a thin coating of dust lay there, and Kent looked up
and down the corridor; it was deserted.
"Do you recognize the handwriting?" asked Ferguson.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226