“You always do, especially when you take a header over the handlebars of your wheel. I’ve seen it!” spoke up Lanky, ready to get back at his chum for the various sly digs he had received.
Frank had his eyes about him. He knew that Lef was following up the little experiment just as eagerly as any of the others. It kept him near them, and thus he could hear what they might be talking about. If suggestions were offered concerning the identity of the unknown who had tried to get Frank into trouble, Lef was yearning to know the drift of the sentiment.
“Now, do the same with the left hand,” Frank went on calmly, though his heart was undoubtedly beating faster than its wont; “and be mighty careful not to let it overlap the imprint of the right. How about that, fellows?”
“Mine is a perfect success!” declared Lanky, triumphantly.
“And mine’s a blooming failure. What shall I do about it, Frank?” called out Buster, in disgust.
“Smooth it off and try again, until you’re satisfied you’ve got a perfect impression of each hand,” answered the master of ceremonies.
“What comes next?”
“Lay the trays down here on the table so we can all get around. Wait just a minute, fellows. I’ve sent up to borrow Mr. Oswald’s big magnifier. That is going to prove my assertion so that even the scoffers will have to admit its truth. And here comes Alfred with the glass.”
Frank took one look at the contents of the tray upon which he had written his own name. Then he handed the glass to Buster.
“Examine closely. Note first that there is a considerable difference in width. Then measure the same finger on each hand and you will see they differ in length. Next pay attention to the peculiar markings. No two fingers are alike in that respect, not even your own. Well, is it so, Buster?” asked Frank.