The Poisoned Pen | Page 8

beyond recognition. His clothes were worn, his
beard shaved off, and he had a generally hunted appearance.
Thurston was visibly nervous. Apparently he had heard all that
Kennedy had said and intended he should hear, for as he entered he
almost broke away from the police officers in his eagerness to speak.
"Before God," he cried dramatically, "I am as innocent as you are of
this crime, Professor Kennedy."
"Are you prepared to swear before me," almost shouted Kennedy, his
eyes blazing, "that you were never served properly by your wife's
lawyers in that suit?"
The man cringed back as if a stinging blow had been delivered between
his eyes. As he met Craig's fixed glare he knew there was no hope.
Slowly, as if the words were being wrung from him syllable by syllable,
he said in a muffled voice:
"No, I perjured myself. I was served in that suit. But - "
"And you swore falsely before Kimmel that you were not?" persisted
Kennedy.

"Yes," he murmured. "But - "
"And you are prepared now to make another affidavit to that effect?"
"Yes," he replied. "If - "
"No buts or ifs, Thurston," cried Kennedy sarcastically. "What did you
make that affidavit for? What is your story?"
"Kimmel sent for me. I did not go to him. He offered to pay my debts if
I would swear to such a statement. I did not ask why or for whom. I
swore to it and gave him a list of my creditors. I waited until they were
paid. Then my conscience - " I could not help revolting at the thought
of conscience in such a wretch, and the word itself seemed to stick in
his throat as he went on and saw how feeble an impression he was
making on us - " my conscience began to trouble me. I determined to
see Vera, tell her all, and find out whether it was she who wanted this
statement. I saw her. When at last I told her, she scorned me. I can
confirm that, for as I left a man entered. I now knew how grossly I had
sinned, in listening to Mose Kimmel. I fled. I disappeared in Maine. I
travelled. Every day my money grew less. At last I was overtaken,
captured, and brought back here."
He stopped and sank wretchedly down in a chair and covered his face
with his hands.
"A likely story," muttered Leland in my ear.
Kennedy was working quickly. Motioning the officers to be seated by
Thurston, he uncovered a jar which he had placed on the table. The
colour had now appeared in Alma's cheeks, as if hope had again sprung
in her heart, and I fancied that Halsey Post saw his claim on her favour
declining correspondingly.
"I want you to examine the letters in this case with me," continued
Kennedy. "Take the letter which I read from Miss Lytton, which was
found following the strange disappearance of the note from Thurston."

He dipped a pen into a little bottle, and wrote on a piece of paper:
What is your opinion about Cross's Headache Cure? Would you
recommend it for a nervous headache?
BURGESS THURSTON, c/o Mrs. S. BONCOUR.
Craig held up the writing so that we could all see that he had written
what Dixon declared Thurston wrote in the note that had disappeared.
Then he dipped another pen into a second bottle, and for some time he
scrawled on another sheet of paper. He held it up, but it was still
perfectly blank.
"Now," he added, "I am going to give a little demonstration which I
expect to be successful only in a measure. Here in the open sunshine by
this window I am going to place these two sheets of paper side by side.
It will take longer than I care to wait to make my demonstration
complete, but I can do enough to convince you."
For a quarter of an hour we sat in silence, wondering what he would do
next. At last he beckoned us over to the window. As we approached he
said, "On sheet number one I have written with quinoline; on sheet
number two I wrote with a solution of nitrate of silver."
We bent over. The writing signed "Thurston" on sheet number one was
faint, almost imperceptible, but on paper number two, in black letters,
appeared what Kennedy had written: " Dear Harris: Since we agreed to
disagree we have at least been good friends."
"It is like the start of the substituted letter, and the other is like the
missing note," gasped Leland in a daze.
"Yes," said Kennedy quickly. "Leland, no one entered your office. No
one stole the Thurston note. No one substituted the Lytton letter.
According to your