“What should I do that for?” asked Eben, suspiciously.
“Never mind. Surely you can have no objection.”
“Well, no; I don't know as I have, though I think it's all foolishness.”
He sat down, and a pen was handed him.
“What shall I write?” he asked.
“Write 'Messrs. Jones & Fitch.'”
“What for?” demanded Eben, looking discomposed.
“That's my affair. Write.”
Eben wrote the words, but he seemed to find some difficulty in doing so. It was clear that he was trying to disguise his handwriting.
“What next?” he asked.