John Hubbard suddenly sat erect, an alert spark glittering in his cold, gray eyes.
“So you assert, under oath, Mr. Plum, that those figures have all been changed since the original balances were made up?” he observed, in a metallic tone.
“Yes, sir,” briefly but positively.
“You are willing to swear that the work was all square and right when the clerk left it under the dates there recorded?”
“Exactly, sir.”
“Prove it, if you please.”
“That I am prepared to do,” said the expert cheerfully, but flashing a look at his questioner which sent a sudden chill through him. “In the first place, Mr. Winchester’s figures were all entered with the same ink, and with a fine-pointed steel pen. The figures that have been tampered with show a different ink, and were evidently changed with a gold, and, probably, a fountain-pen.”
“How can you detect between the work of a gold and a steel pen?” queried Hubbard, with a skeptical smile.
An answering smile curved the lips of Mr. Plum.