"Bunter will show you."
Bunter immediately produced a small inking-pad and roller, and a number of sheets of smooth, white paper. The fingers of the two candidates were carefully wiped with a clean cloth, and pressed first on the pad and then on the paper. The impressions thus obtained were labeled and put away in envelopes, after which the handle of the walking-stick was lightly dusted with gray powder, bringing to light an excellent set of prints of a right-hand set of fingers, superimposed here and there, but quite identifiable. Fentiman and Woodward gazed fascinated at this entertaining miracle.
"Are they all right?"
"Perfectly so, sir; they are quite unlike either of the other two specimens."
"Then presumably they're the General's. Hurry up and get a negative."
Bunter set up the camera and focussed it.
"Unless," observed Major Fentiman, "they are Mr. Oliver's. That would be a good joke, wouldn't it?"
"It would, indeed," said Wimsey, a little taken aback. "A very good joke—on somebody. And for the moment, Fentiman, I'm not sure which of us would do the laughing."