"No, and I don't believe she does!"
"Yessir. I went to the bank an' they said so. An' I asked the sewin' woman, an' she said so. An' I asked the caterer people an' they said so. And the inkstand is on the left-hand side of Miss Van Allen's desk."
"All right, then she is left-handed, but that proves nothing!"
"No, sir, Miss Van Allen ain't left-handed. You know she ain't yourself. You'd 'a' noticed it if she had been. But she writes left-handed, 'cause if she didn't she'd write like Mrs. Schuyler!"
"Oh, rubbish!" I began, but Fleming Stone interrupted.
"Wait, Calhoun, don't fly to pieces. All Terence is saying is quite true. I vouch for it. Listen further."
"They ain't no use goin' further," said Fibsy, despondently. "Mr. Calhoun knows I'm right, only he can't bring himself to believe it, an' I don't blame him. Why, even now, he's sizin' up the case an' everything he thinks of proves it an' nothin' disproves it. But anyway, the prints prove it all."
"Prints?" I said, half dazedly.
"Yessir. I photographed a lot o' finger prints in both houses, an' the Headquarters people fixed 'em up for me, magnerfied 'em, you know, an' printed 'em on little cards, an' as you can see, they're all the same."
I glanced at the sheaf of cards the boy had and Fleming Stone took them to scrutinize.