Edgar Allan Poe and the London Monster by Karen Lee Street

hadaccompanied my legacy next to the signatures I had just penned. He studied the four pieces of paper carefully.
    â€œInteresting, a most interesting case. Look here at the ‘E’ and the A’ in your signature. Now consider the ‘E’ and A of Elizabeth Arnold’s signature.” Dupin held the two names side by side. “Quite a similarity between the construction of your characters and Elizabeth Arnold’s.”
    I felt my face flush. “Sir, you are not suggesting that I am the true author of Elizabeth Arnold’s letters?”
    Dupin looked amused at my discomfiture. “Do not jump to conclusions. I am merely indicating a certain likeness of style.” He indicated my attempts to write the Arnolds’ names. “We can see here that your efforts are very different to the genuine signatures. Further, it is obvious to even the untrained eye that the paper of these letters is far older than that of your letter to me.”
    â€œBut the age of the paper does not guarantee the letters’ authenticity,” I suggested.
    â€œNo, it does not, but let us examine the letters more precisely. Through the science of autography, we are able to learn much about an author’s character as revealed through his or her handwriting.” Dupin indicated my letter to him. “The paper on which you wrote to me is excellent, the seal red. This indicates the refined taste of the author. The penmanship is highly legible and the punctuation is faultless. The lines are at proper intervals and perfectly straight. There are no superfluous flourishes and there is an air of deliberate precision to the writing, a mingled solidity and grace that speaks of the scholar.”
    I felt obliged to protest Dupin’s flattery, but he waved his hand to silence me.
    â€œConsider Elizabeth Arnold’s letter. The paper is good, the seal small—of green wax—and without impression. This penmanship is quite different. The characters are well-sized,distinct and elegantly but not ostentatiously formed. The paper has a clean appearance, and she is scrupulously attentive to the margin. The t’s are crossed with a sweeping scratch of the pen. While the letter is written with a very good running hand, the lines are not straight. One would suppose it written in a violent hurry. The whole air of the letter is dictatorial, but still sufficiently feminine. There is a good deal of spirit and some force.”
    â€œAnd Henry Arnold’s letter?”
    â€œQuite a different character. The writing has an air of swagger about it and would seem to indicate a mind without settled aims, restless and full of activity. The characters are bold, large, sprawling and frequently impaired by an undue straining after effect, but by no means illegible. There are too many dashes and the tails of the long letters are too long. Few of the characters are written twice in the same manner, and their direction varies continually. Sometimes the words lie perpendicularly on the page, then slope to the right, then fly off in an opposite way. The thickness of the characters is also changeable—sometimes very light and fine, sometimes excessively heavy. It would require no great stretch of fancy to imagine the writer to be a man of unbounded ambition, greatly interfered with by frequent moods of doubt and depression, and by unsettled ideas of the beautiful.”
    This interpretation did not surprise me when I remembered the content of the letters.
    â€œAnd now we must consider the letter written by Mrs. Allan.” Dupin picked up the folded paper and laid it flat before us. As he studied it, a frown settled between his brows. “You say this note accompanied the box of letters?”
    â€œYes, most assuredly.”
    â€œYou are certain that Mrs. Allan composed it or you presume so?”
    â€œWell, of course I must presume so.” Dupin’s frown deepened, so I elaborated. “I have never