Benson, to--to inquire if this be his
signature?"
"There can be no doubt of it, I think, sir," said the clerk,
calmly smiling, for he knew Mr. Benson's signature well.
"I don't know, sir--I don't know." (He was speaking as if the
pronunciation of every word required a separate effort of will,
like a man who has received a slight paralytic stroke.)
"You have heard, sir, of such a thing as forgery--forgery, sir?"
said he, repeating the last word very distinctly; for he feared
that the first time he had said it, it was rather slurred over.
"Oh, sir! there is no room for imagining such a thing, I assure
you. In our affairs we become aware of curious forgetfulness on
the part of those who are not of business habits."
"Still I should like to show it Mr. Benson, to prove to him his
forgetfulness, you know. I believe, on my soul, it is some of his
careless forgetfulness--I do, sir," said he. Now he spoke very
quickly. "It must have been. Allow me to convince myself. You
shall have it back to-night, or the first thing in the morning."
The clerk did not quite like to relinquish the deed, nor yet did
he like to refuse Mr. Bradshaw. If that very uncomfortable idea
of forgery should have any foundation in truth--and he had given
up the writing! There were a thousand chances to one against its
being anything but a stupid blunder; the risk was more imminent
of offending one of the directors.
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