Johnston McCulley

“ Burke came darting back into the room. “Boss!” he whispered. “I thought they had you. That scar——”
“Was a fake, like the vase, Burke. I’ve painted it on my wrist daily for some time, and I’ve been waiting for just such an occurrence as this. Well, Burke, we win again. Nine thousand, altogether. I can pass those marked bills, all right, without being caught. Glad they didn’t search the place and find those clothes in the dumb waiter. I didn’t think Marter would have the nerve. But he’ll be after us now, Burke, harder than before. He knows very well that he has been tricked. ”

“ Marter demanded, “did the man who dealt with you regarding that vase have on his left wrist a scar?”
“Yes, sir,”
“What sort of a scar?”
“A peculiar purple one running across the inside of the wrist, a scar about six inches long.”
“Mr. Belcher, did the man who called on you and got that thousand dollars have such a scar on his left wrist?”
“He did!” Belcher shouted.
“And so we have you, Carden,” Marter continued. “There may be another man who has something of your appearance, but scarcely one who would have the same sort of scar. I’m not afraid to take you in this time, Carden. ”

“ I gave you a thousand to make you believe I was going to stand for blackmail, hoping you’d try to get more later and that I could have you caught then. Then you wrote letters to both Razelus and me, demanding more blackmail, and a short time ago you got those letters at the post office. ”