"
The farmer grinned at the fun of the first picture, then read aloud the
name, "F. Turl."
"Oh, has he signed this lot?" asked Larcher. "I told him he ought to.
Let's see what his signature looks like." He glanced at the corner of the
sketch; suddenly he exclaimed: "By George, I've seen that name!--and
written just like that!"
"Like as not you've had letters from him, or somethin'."
"Never. I'm positive this is the first of his writing I've seen since
I've known him. Where the deuce?" He shut his eyes, and made a strong
effort of memory. Suddenly he opened his eyes again, and stared hard at
the signature. "Yes, sir! _Francis_ Turl--that was the name. And who do
you think showed me a note signed by that name in this very
handwriting?"
"Give it up."
"Murray Davenport."
"Yuh don't say."
"Yes, I do. Murray Davenport, the last night I ever saw him. He asked me
to judge the writer's character from the penmanship. It was a note about
a meeting between the two. Now I wonder--was that an old note, and had
the meeting occurred already? or was the meeting yet to come? You see,
the next day Davenport disappeared."
"H'm! An' subsequently this young man is seen comin' out o' the hallway
Davenport was seen goin' into."
"But it was several weeks subsequently. Still, it's odd enough. If there
was a meeting _after_ Davenport's disappearance, why mightn't it have
been in your room? Why mightn't Davenport have appointed it to occur
there? Perhaps, when we first met Turl that night, he had gone back there
in search of Davenport--or for some other purpose connected with him.
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