ature was necessary, and he could, if only Mills had been
punctual, have gone out to Rottingdean before lunch, and inspected the
Church school there in the erection of which he had taken so energetic an
interest. Timmins, however, the gray-haired old head clerk, was in the
office with him, and Mr. Taynton always liked a chat with Timmins.

"And the grandson just come home, has he Mr. Timmins?" he was saying. "I
must come and see him. Why he'll be six years old, won't he, by now?"

"Yes, sir, turned six."

"Dear me, how time goes on! The morning is going on, too, and still Mr.
Mills isn't here."

He took a quill pen and drew a half sheet of paper toward him, poised
his pen a moment and then wrote quickly.

"What a pity I can't sign for him," he said, passing his paper over to
the clerk. "Look at that; now even you, Timmins, though you have seen Mr.
Mills's handwriting ten thousand times, would be ready to swear that the
signature was his, would you not?"

Timmins looked scrutinisingly at it.

"Well, I'm sure, sir! What a forger you would have made!" he said
admiringly. "I would have sworn that was Mr. Mills's own hand of write.
It's wonderful, sir."

Mr. Taynton sighed, and took the paper again.

"Yes, it is like, isn't it?" he said, "and it's so easy to do. Luckily
forgers don't know the way to forge properly."

"And what might that be, sir?" asked Timmins.

"Why, to throw yourself mentally into the nature of the man whose
handwriting you wish to forge. Of course one has to know the handwriting
thoroughly well, but if one does that one just has to visualise it, and
then, as I said, project oneself into the other, not laboriously copy the
handwriting. Let's try another. Ah, who is that letter from? Mrs.
Assheton isn't it. Let me look at the signature just once again."

Mr. Taynton closed his eyes a moment after looking at it. Then he took
his quill, and wrote quickly.

"You would swear to that, too, would you not, Timmins?" he asked.

"Why, God bless me yes, sir," said he. "Swear to it on the book."

The door opened and as Godfrey Mills came in, Mr. Taynton tweaked the
paper out of Timmins's hand, and tore it up. It might perhaps seem
strange to dear Mills that his partner had been forging his signature,
though only in jest.

"'Fraid I'm rather late," said Mills.

"Not at all, my dear fellow," said Taynton without the slightest touch of
ill-humour. "How are you? There's very little to do; I want your