“Mr. Tertius says that he and you saw Jacob Herapath sign that document, saw each other sign it! What you say now gives Mr. Tertius the direct lie, and——”
“Pardon me, Mr. Halfpenny,” interrupted Burchill quietly. “Mr. Tertius may be under some strange misapprehension; Mr. Tertius may be suffering from some curious hallucination. What I say is—I did not see the late Jacob Herapath sign that paper; I did not sign it myself; I did not see Mr. Tertius sign it; I have never seen it before!”
Mr. Halfpenny made a little snorting sound, got up from his chair, picked up the envelope which contained the will, walked over to his safe, deposited the envelope in some inner receptacle, came back, produced his snuff-box, took a hearty pinch of its contents, snorted again, and looked hard at Barthorpe.
“I don’t see the least use in going on with this!” he said. “We have heard what Mr. Tertius, as one witness, says; we have heard what Mr. Frank Burchill, as the other witness, says. Mr. Tertius says that he saw the will executed in Mr. Burchill’s presence; Mr. Burchill denies that in the fullest and most unqualified fashion. Why waste more time? We had better separate.”
But Barthorpe laughed, maliciously.
“Scarcely!” he said. “You brought us here. It was your own proposal. I assented. And now that we are here, and you have heard—what you have heard—I’m going to have my say. You have gone, all along, Mr. Halfpenny, on the assumption that the piece of paper which you have just replaced in your safe is a genuine will. That’s what you’ve said—I believe it’s what you say now. I don’t say so!”
“What do you say it is, then?” demanded Mr. Halfpenny.
Barthorpe slightly lowered his voice.
“I say it’s a forgery!” he answered. “That, I hope, is plain language. A forgery—from the first word to its last.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Mr. Halfpenny, a little sneeringly. “And who’s the forger, pray?”