When the lawyer for the other side arose to cross-examine Alex he smiled somewhat derisively.
“You are a friend of the defendant, are you not?” he asked significantly.
“Yes, sir; and so know his sending over the wire unusually well,” responded Alex, cleverly turning the point of the question.
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders, and put the next question with sarcasm. “And, now, do you mean to stand there and tell this court that the clicks—the purely mechanical clicks—made over a telegraph wire by an operator miles away will sound different to the clicks made by any other operator?”
“I do,” said Alex quietly. “And I am ready to demonstrate it.”
“Oh, you are, are you? And how, pray?”
“Three other operators from the Exeter office are in the court-room, with a set of instruments and a battery. Let them place the instruments on the table down there; blindfold me, then have them and Jack Orr by turns write something on the key. I’ll identify every one of them before he sends a half-dozen words.”
A wave of surprise, then smiles of incredulity passed over the crowded room.
“Very well,” agreed the lawyer readily. “Set up the instruments.”
The three Exeter operators came forward, and the prosecutor, producing a handkerchief, himself stepped into the witness-box and proceeded to bind Alex’s eyes. That done, to make doubly sure, he turned Alex face to the wall.