"Oh yes, sir."
"And all this was done in my library, wasn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
"How did you happen to be there when these other men were there?"
"You called me in, sir."
"All right! You never smoke, Phipps?"
"Never in the stable, sir."
"Well, lay these cigars away where you have laid the rest of 'em, and go to bed."
Phipps took the costly bundle of cigars that was handed to him, carried them by habit to his nose, said "Thank you, sir," and went off down the stairs, felicitating himself on the ease with which he had won so choice a treasure.
The effect of Phipps' signature on Mr. Belcher's mind was a curious illustration of the self-deceptions in which a human heart may indulge. Companionship in crime, the sharing of responsibility, the fact that the paper was to have been signed at the time it was drawn, and would have been signed but for the accident of Benedict's insanity; the fact that he had paid moneys with the expectation of securing a title to the inventions he was using—all these gave to the paper an air of genuineness which surprised even Mr. Belcher himself.