"As to the signature and writing? Are they genuine?"
"Beyond peradventure and on the strength of my twenty-nine years of experience."
"During your twenty-nine years of experience," asked Shagarach, "have you ever failed to arrive at the conclusion your employers expected?"
"I object," said the district attorney, and Shagarach withdrew his question. It was one of those ramrod questions, the office of which is simply to drive the charge home and then be withdrawn.
"Will you kindly write your own name on that?"
He handed up a common paper block and a pen. The expert flushed a little and put the pen in his mouth. This blackened his lips and raised a titter. His tongue rolled in his cheek like a schoolboy's while he wrote. The effort was unconsciously prolonged. Shagarach took the autograph and passed it to the jury. A broad smile spread from face to face like a row of lamps lighted successively by an electric current. Then the half-legible scrawl was passed to the district attorney and Shagarach sat down.
"I do not understand," said the district attorney, "that you profess to be an ornamental writer?"
"It is not necessary, Brother Bigelow," interrupted Shagarach again. "We acknowledge the note on the postal card."
"He has a spark of humor, after all," said Ecks, who was still in his seat.
"What do you suppose Aronson has to do with it?" asked Wye, while the jury studied the blotter, one after another, mirror in hand.