"I didn't give any one an order for the car."
"Why, you must have forgotten it. Here it is. I happened to see one of your boys down here, and called him to one side and asked him if it was your signature, and he very promptly identified it."
"Let me see that order."
The agent produced an order written on the note paper of the hotel.
Ted stared at it incredulously.
"It looks like my writing, but I didn't write it. I'll swear to that. Look at this, Stella. Is that my hand?"
Stella looked at the paper studiously for a minute or two, then handed it back.
"A casual look at it would deceive me, but you did not write it. It lacks several of your individualisms, and has others that are not yours."
"That is right. This order is a forgery. I did not write it. The express-robber syndicate is getting bolder every minute. They'll come in and steal you some day," Ted said to the agent. "Notify your company that my car has been stolen, and that I want it restored to me."
"Great Scott!" was all the agent could say.