“That is the weakness of your case, Mr. Gallatin; you can’t produce it,” he sneered.
Gallatin turned to the chief clerk and said: “The checks, Tooker.”
Gallatin removed some slips of paper from the envelope Tooker handed him, and held them carelessly in his fingers, so that the two men, who were eying them eagerly, could see the name of the bank and the signature at the lower right hand corner.
“Perhaps Mr. Loring will deny his own signature?” he asked quietly. “These checks I hold are signed with Mr. Loring’s name, a signature with which we are all familiar, and were given to Mr. Loring’s brokers for the purchase of Sanborn stock. I may add that the date of entry on the books of the company in each case corresponds with the date on the checks, as does the amount.”
He stepped to Loring’s side and held several of the checks up just beyond his reach.
“That’s not my signature,” said Loring.
Gallatin handed the checks to Tooker.
“You’re not convinced?”
“No. It’s a forgery.”
“Then I’ll find other means of convincing you. Perhaps, if I produced a man who saw you sign those checks——”