"It isn't parliamentary," said the chairman, amused in spite of himself. "I declare it out of order. I hope Mr. Calthorpe will——"
"I withdraw it," said Hal good-humoredly. "Sorry! What I meant was they sold you something they didn't have, Mr. McShay."
"It's giving our hand away," said the cowman with an assumed serenity he did not feel, for there was something about the manner and speech of the other which made him uneasy in spite of himself.
"It's a-giving our hand away, but I don't mind puttin' you wise. There's a deed!"—and he took a paper from his wallet—"and it's signed, 'James Wynnegate, Earl of KERhill.'"
"Karhill," corrected the boy.
"Kerrhill," insisted Mike, and then spelled it—"Kay-arr-hell."
"May I see that?"
"Sure! Strictly speakin', I don't know as it's any of your business, but maybe it'll be good for what ails you."
Hal looked at it, read it, examined it swiftly but carefully, amid a silence which was intense! The interest had shifted from the agent to the chief of police, and every one present was wondering how it happened and what it could mean. While the document was under examination, Big Bill sauntered in, trying to look absent and desultory, and failing completely. He tried to appear on his way to the store, but his open face showed plainly his anxiety to know what was going on.
"The signature is a forgery," said Calthorpe simply.