ickly Ransom Vane turned upon the man before him, casting a fierce look into his face.
"This letter is yours--"
"No; you may keep it," answered Bordine quickly. "It may lead to some clew."
"But I say the letter is yours. You wrote it."
"Certainly not." "But see here;" and Vane pointed to the mutilated signature.
Bordine started when he saw how closely the name resembled his own.
"Do you deny that you wrote that?" demanded Ransom Vane, fiercely.
"Certainly; I did not write it."
"By heaven, you did, and it is you who murdered my sister!" hissed young Vane, trembling with the maddest emotions that ever whelmed a human breast.
"Vane clutched the arm of young Bordine, and glared furiously into his face.
"Calm yourself, my dear Ransom," urged the engineer. "You are beside yourself now. I had no quarrel with Victoria. In fact, we were the best of friends, and I parted from her this morning on the best of terms. I--"
"But this letter?" demanded Vane, fiercely.
"I know no m