He seized her unresisting hand, pressed it to his lips, and went away. He did not hear the musical giggle that followed him into the street, but, absorbed by his purpose, went home and mounted to his room. Locking the door, and peering about among the furniture, according to his custom, he sat down at his desk, drew out the old contract, and started at his usual practice. "Sign it," he said to himself, "and then you can use it or not--just as you please. It's not the signing that will trouble you; it's the using." He tried the names all over again, and then, his heart beating heavily against the desk, he spread the document and essayed his task. His heart jarred him. His hand trembled. What could he do to calm himself? He rose and walked to his mirror, and found that he was pale. "Are you afraid?" he said to himself. "Are you a coward? Ha! ha! ha! ha! Did I laugh? My God! how it sounded! Aren't you a pretty King of Wall Street! Aren't you a lovely President of the Crooked Valley Railroad! Aren't you a sweet sort of a nabob! You _must_ do it! Do you hear? You _must_ do it! Eh? do you hear? Sit down, sir! Down with you, sir! and don't you rise again until the thing is done." The heart-thumping passed away. The reaction, under the strong spur and steady push of will, brought his nerves up to steadiness, and he sat down, took his pencils and pens that had been selected for the service, and wrote first the name of Paul Benedict, and then, as witnesses, the names of Nicholas Johnson and James Ramsey. So the document was signed, and witnessed by men whom he believed to be dead. The witnesses whose names he had forged he knew to be dead. With this document he believed he could defend his possession of all the patent rights on which the permanence of his fortune depended. He permitted the ink to dry, then folded the paper, and put it back in its place. Then he shut and opened the drawer, and took it out again. It had a genuine look. Then he rang his bell and called for Phipps. When Phipps appeared, he said: "Well, Phipps, what do you want?" "Nothing, sir," and Phipps smiled. "Very well; help yourself." "Thank you, sir," and Phipps rubbed his hands. "How are you getting along in New York, Phipps?" "Very well, sir." "Big thing to be round with the General, isn't it? It's a touch above Sevenoaks, eh?" "Yes, sir." "Get enough to eat down-stairs?" "Plenty." "Good clothes to wear?" "Very good," and Phipps looked down upon his toilet with great satisfaction. "Stolen mostly from the General, eh?" Phipps giggled. "That's all; you can go. I only wanted to see if you were in the house, and well taken care of." Phipps started to go. "By the way, Phipps, have you a good memory?--first-rate memory?" "Yes, sir." "Can you remember everything that happened, a--say, six years ago?" "I can try," said Phipps, with an intelligent glance into Mr. Belcher's eyes.