"Then," said Peter Mannion's attorney, "I will ask Mr. Feversham to take the stand." James Playfair's friend looked surprised, but he came forward, was sworn, and the will was placed in his hands. "Examine it carefully, Mr. Feversham," said the attorney, "and then state whether or not, in your opinion, the body of the instrument and the signature, all the writing, in fact, is in the writing of James Playfair." "If this is not his handwriting," answered Feversham, after a pause, "it is a perfect imitation." "Can you say it is not his handwriting?" questioned Peter Mannion's attorney, with sternness. There was a pause. Feversham looked at the judge, then at the two men who had accompanied him to the court. Finally he said slowly, but with emphasis: "I can say, with a conviction that almost amounts to certainty, that this will is not in the handwriting of my deceased friend." Peter Mannion started violently. His face grew gray. A sense of danger suddenly possessed him; but he gripped the sides of his chair and waited. The attorney for the moment was nonplussed. He had not expected the answer. But he speedily recovered his wits, and, in a blustering manner, said: "Is it because the will leaves you nothing, while a previous one leaves you heir to the fortune, that you are unwilling to state what must be a patent fact to any man of intelligence?" Feversham's fine face darkened with anger. He was about to reply, when the judge spoke with severity. "You must not insult your own witnesses. If I hear anything of the kind again I shall be compelled to fine you for contempt of court. Have you any more questions to ask?" "Yes," was the surly reply. "I wish to ask Mr. Feversham why he is positive that this will is not what it purports to be?" "My attorney, who has just arrived, will answer for me," said the witness. Both Peter Mannion and his attorney turned to see advancing toward the bar the tall, courtly figure of Colonel Seaman, one of the leaders of the Washington bar. "It is our intention," said the colonel to the court, "to contest the probate of this alleged olographic will. I have in my hands copies of the same document, which I respectfully ask the court to examine before I proceed to explain where and how they were found, and what they mean." Thus saying, he stepped within the bar, approached the bench, and handed to the judge the four copies found on the body of Dimitri Goloff, the Russian accomplice of Arthur Mannion. The judge examined them, first with perplexity, then with understanding. "As supplementing them," continued Colonel Seaman, "I will offer for your inspection a copy of the indictment under which Arthur Mannion was convicted in a California court of forgery." This document was passed to the judge. Peter Mannion shifted uneasily in his seat. His brow began to ooze cold perspiration. "Anything more?" asked the court pleasantly.