'You note the dates and amounts, Austin?' said Mr. Dering. 'Certainly; we will, however, get the dates and the amounts more exactly in a moment.--Now, Mr. Ellis, of course you received instructions with the papers themselves. Were they in writing or by word of mouth?' 'In writing. By letters written by Mr. Dering himself.' 'Have you got these letters with you?' 'Everything is here, and in proper order.' He laid his hand upon the papers. 'Here, for instance, is the first letter, dated February 14, relating to these transactions.--You will no doubt remember it, Mr. Dering.' He took up a letter, and read it aloud: '"MY DEAR ELLIS,--I enclose a bundle of certificates and shares. They amount to somewhere about 6,500_l_. at current price. Will you have these transferred to the name of Edmund Gray, gentleman, of 22 South Square, Gray's Inn? Mr. Edmund Gray is a client, and I will have the amount paid to my account by him. Send me, therefore, the transfer papers and the account showing the amount due to me by him, together with your commission.--Very sincerely yours, EDWARD DERING." That is the letter. The proceeding is not usual, yet not irregular. If, for instance, we had been instructed to buy stock for Mr. Dering---- But of course you know.' 'Pardon me,' said George. 'I am not so much accustomed to buy stock as my partner. Will you go on?' 'We should have done so, and sent our client the bill for the amount with our commission. If we had been instructed to sell, we should have paid in to Mr. Dering's bank the amount realised less our commission. A transfer is another kind of work. Mr. Dering transferred this stock to Edmund Gray, his client. It was therefore for him to settle with his client the charges for the transfer and the value of the stock. We therefore sent a bill for these charges. It was sent by hand, and a cheque was received by return of the messenger.' George received the letter from him, examined it, and laid it before his partner. * * * * * Mr. Dering read the letter, held it to the Checkley. 'If anybody knows my handwriting,' he said, 'it ought to be you. Whose writing is that?' 'It looks like yours. But there is a trembling in the letters. It is not so firm as the most of your work. I should call it yours; but I see by your face that it is not.' 'No; it is not my writing. I did not write that letter. This is the first I have heard of the contents of that letter.--Look at the signature, Checkley. Two clots are wanting after the word Dering, and the flourish after the last "n" is curtailed of half its usual dimensions. Did you ever know me to alter my signature by a single curve?' 'Never,' Checkley replied. 'Two clots wanting and half a flourish.--Go on, sir; I've just thought of something. But go on.'