Magnus' family.
I suppose my thought must have been reflected in my face, for Mrs.
Magnus flushed angrily as she caught my eye.
"No, I'm not mad," she said "though I feared last night that I would
be. What I have told you is perfectly true. I saw my husband write
that note three nights ago--it is not the only one. He can have no
peace until that money is paid--neither can I. You must not fail me."
"I will not," I assured her. "I will bring it to you myself."
"Thank you," she said, and arose to go. "I shall want you to be
present to-night."
"I shall be glad to help you in any way I can."
"Thank you," she said again, and I opened the door for her and watched
her for a moment as she crossed the outer office. Then I closed the
door and went back to my desk.
The note was lying where I had dropped it, and I picked it up and
examined it again. Then I got out some samples of Magnus' writing and
compared them with the note, but so far as I could tell the hands were
the same. Besides, she had said she had seen her husband write it.
This gave me pause. How could she have seen him? How had he appeared
to her? Perhaps she had written it herself, in her sleep, under some
sort of self-hypnosis--but, in that case, would the handwriting have
been her husband's? Or did hypnosis involve that, too? I ended by
turning to the phone and calling for 3100 Spring. That, as you may
know, is for 300 Mulberry Street; and 300 Mulberry Street is the
drab building in which the police system of New York has its
headquarters--or did have until the other day.
Pages:
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419