“You dare not swear that you handed Miss Langdon the signed codicil because you _fear_ you gave her the unsigned one,” taunted Duncan. “Wait,” as the harassed lawyer started to interrupt him. “You did hand Miss Langdon the unsigned copy, however, which was found in the safe--therefore her responsibility in the matter ends.” “Hold hard,” broke in the Admiral heatedly. “As Alvord says, Marjorie could have stolen the signed codicil off the desk; she was the last person to leave this room that evening, and I the first to enter in the morning--and the codicil was not on the desk.” “You were not the _first_ person to enter this room that morning,” contradicted Duncan. “Ask your butler to step here a moment.” The Admiral hesitated, but Duncan’s earnest manner solved his doubt, and he rang for his servant. “Come in, Sam,” he directed as the butler rapped on the door. “Sam,” began Duncan slowly. “Why have you never told Admiral Lawrence that you knocked a valuable paper off his desk with your feather duster and out of the open window?” “Fo’ Gawd! boss, how’d yo’ know ’bout dat?” Sam turned ashy. “I was passing the house and saw the paper sail through the window into the gutter where the water carried it down the sewer. This was the morning of my arrival in Washington, Admiral--November first.” The Admiral stared speechlessly at Duncan, then wheeled on his frightened servant. “Why did you never tell me of this?” “’Cause yo’ never axed me ’bout de paper; ef yo’ had I’d a telled yer,” protested Sam. “When yo’ didn’t say nuffin’ I thought de paper wasn’t no ’count.” “Go downstairs, you rascal!” thundered the Admiral, and Sam, glad to escape, disappeared from the room. “Well, Alvord, what d’ye think?” The lawyer tugged at his mustache. “What is your theory, Mr. Fordyce?” he asked, passing on the Admiral’s question. “That you gave the unsigned codicil to Miss Langdon who, following instructions, placed it in the safe where the Admiral found it the next morning. Sam knocked the signed paper into the gutter, and it went down the sewer.” “Could you make out any writing on the paper as it fell, Mr. Fordyce?” “Unfortunately, no; the paper resembled an ordinary letter size typewriting sheet, folded three times. It spread open and fell writing down.” “The codicil was written on ordinary typewriting paper such as you describe,” admitted Alvord. “It was the only kind Miss Langdon had here. Still, that’s slim proof to back your theory, Mr. Fordyce.” “But it will hold,” Duncan’s elation could be read in his animated expression and excited manner. “I’m willing to face any court, and I’ll win my case....” “And that scamp, Chichester Barnard, will win his hundred thousand after all,” groaned the Admiral. CHAPTER XXII “TOUJOURS SANS TACHE”