as
possible that a man may have really witnessed a will when he thought he
was signing some much less important document. Of course, you're a
lawyer, and I'm not. But I believe that what I have just said is much
more in accordance with what we may call the truth of life than what
you've said."

"If a man sees another man sign a document and witnesses the signature
together with a third man who had been present throughout, what would
you say was being done?" asked Barthorpe, sneeringly. "Come, now?"

"I quite apprehend your meaning," replied Burchill. "You put it very
cleverly."

"Then why don't you answer my question?" demanded Barthorpe.

Burchill laughed softly.

"Why not answer mine?" he said. "However, I'll ask it in another and
more direct form. Have you seen my signature as witness to a will made
by Jacob Herapath?"

"Yes," replied Barthorpe.

"Are you sure it was my signature?" asked Burchill.

Barthorpe lifted his eyes and looked searchingly at his questioner. But
Burchill's face told him nothing. What was more, he was beginning to
feel that he was not going to get anything out of Burchill that Burchill
did not want to tell. He remained silent, and again Burchill laughed.

"You see," he said, "I can suppose all sorts of things. I can suppose,
for example, that there's such a thing as forging a signature--two
signatures--three signatures to a will--or, indeed, to any other
document. Don't you think that instead of asking me a direct question
like this that you'd better wait until this will comes before the--is it
the Probate Court?--and then let some of the legal gentlemen ask me if
that--that!--is my signature? I'm only putting it to you, you know. But
perhaps you'd like to tell me--all about it?" He paused, looking
carefully at Barthorpe, and as Barthorpe made no immediate answer, he
went on speaking in a lower, softer tone. "All about it," he repeated
insinuatingly. "Ah!"

Barthorpe suddenly flung his cigarette in the hearth with a gesture that
implied decision.

"I will!" he exclaimed. "It may be the shortest way out. Very
well--listen, then. I tell you my uncle was murdered at his office
about--well, somewhere between twelve and three o'clock this morning.
Naturally, after the preliminaries were over, I wanted to find out
if he'd made a will--naturally, I say."

"Naturally, you would," murmured Burchill.

"I didn't believe he had," continued Barthorpe. "But I examined his safe
at the offic