he papers got among others."

"And into your private safe."

"Yes. And they were stolen from it."

"But then you say they're worthless. You say that the two sets of papers
were drawn on the same day? The second wasn't prepared subsequently and
dated back?"

Mr. Braden hesitated, trying to read the purpose behind the question. He
was again beginning to distrust Riley, who undoubtedly resembled an
Airedale.

"I'm almost sure it was the same day. It may have been the next."

"But at all events within, say, forty-eight hours?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps your stenographer might remember? Or your clerk?"

"That clerk is dead," said Mr. Braden without noticeable regret. "My
stenographer might or might not remember. But she could identify the
papers as being written about the same time on the same machine."

"How?"

"Because I had only one machine in my office at that time, and that had
certain peculiarities of type. I scrapped it soon after that, and got a
new one. If you'll compare the deeds, you'll see they must have been
written on the same machine."

"A very fair point," the judge admitted blandly. "You have an excellent
memory for details. But even if you establish that they were written on
the same machine, it would not prove that they were written on the same
day. For that you would have to depend on your evidence and that of your
stenographer."

"I don't have to prove when they were written," Mr. Braden stated. "The
date of an instrument is _prima facie_ evidence. I know a little law
myself, Riley."

"A little law is a very dangerous thing to know," the judge commented.

"And I'm not going to be cross-examined by you," Mr. Braden declared.
"If you contend that those deeds were made at different times it's up to
you to prove it. Can you do that, hey?"

"Yes," the judge replied. "Absolutely!"

Mr. Braden almost jumped, and his heart again misbehaved.

"H--how?" he asked in a voice which shook slightly.

"In this way," the judge replied: "The conveyance delivered by French to
his niece and dated some seven years ago, is on paper bearing the
watermark of a firm which did not exist, much less manufacture a single
sheet of paper, until two years ago!"

It was a terrible blow, direct, unexpected, smashing through Mr.
Braden's elaborate system of defense. It produced the shattering,
shocking effect of high explosive. For a moment he was speechless. He
rallied feebly.

"It's--it's a lie!" he stammered. "They