“I thought at first that Stone had merely signed the check in blank,” he continued, “which would have implied a greater mental lack on his part and a lesser degree of criminality on yours; but now I know better. I took that check home with me, Follansbee, and examined it under a microscope. Thanks to that, I discovered that there had been other writing on it—doubtless in Stone’s hand. Your trick ink had quite disappeared, but the point of the pen had slightly scratched the surface of the paper; and, moreover, the application of a chemical on one or two spots revealed traces of the ink originally used. As soon as the bank gives me permission to do so, I shall apply that chemical—you can doubtless guess what it is—to the whole check, and thereby bring out the original writing once more. And when I do so, I’m sure I shall find that, as Stone made it out, the check originally called for a much smaller sum. Doubtless you found some excuse to change inks when it came to the signature, with the result that it alone was written with ordinary ink. What do you say to that?” Apparently Follansbee had nothing to say. His hands were clenched on his desk and he was biting his under lip and glaring fearfully at the detective. Nick returned look for look and allowed his glance to play over the surface of the desk. As it did so, it fell upon a letter which Follansbee had been writing before his visitor’s entrance. The doctor’s name and address were engraved in the upper left-hand corner, and the ink in which the beginning of the letter was written was of the same shade as that used on the three documents which the detective had obtained at the bank. “That reminds me,” said Nick, looking from the unfinished letter to the open ink bottle. He paused, and then with a swift movement thrust his hand out, picked up the bottle, corked it, and started to drop it into his pocket. “This will be one more link in the chain—your chain,” he announced. Snarling like a wild beast, and with an agility for which Nick had not given him credit, Follansbee shot out of his chair and hurled himself upon the detective. In the brief tussle which followed, the tables were turned, despite the detective’s greater bulk and strength. CHAPTER XXXVIII. NICK IS BALKED. One of the little physician’s hands shot out and caught at the ink bottle which the detective was about to pocket, and as they reeled across the room together, the rascal lowered his head unexpectedly and set his sharp teeth into Nick Carter’s hand. It was the trick of an animal rather than of a human being, and it took the detective completely by surprise. Involuntarily Nick released his hold on the bottle, and it fell to the floor. The fall did not break it, however, and Follansbee was obliged to kick it into the fireplace, where it struck against one of the massive andirons and was shattered, its contents mixing with the ashes.