"Hell," I exclaimed, "I've simply got to do better than that. How about my tracing it?" "You'd be surprised," she told me, "how easy it is to spot a signature that's been traced. It's something about the flow of the ink and the angle of the pen. No two signatures are exactly alike and that's why a tracing gives itself away. They got machines which spot it." "Well, how'm I going to get some dough?" I demanded. "I can't draw on Jacklin's Washington account--and the chances are there isn't much there anyhow. And if I try to draw on Tompkins' account I'll find myself in the hoosegow." She got up and mixed us another pair of drinks. "I got it," she announced. "It won't be too nice for you but it's better than starving." "You mean you'll lend me some?" "Hell, baby, I got no money--twenty-five or thirty in the account and a few hundreds in war-bonds. No, this is better. Just hold out your hand and shut your eyes." It sounded like jewels. I leaned back in the chair, closed my eyes and extended my right hand in front of me, palm upward. I heard her pad into the bathroom. When she came back, her voice sounded strained as she whispered: "This is it, baby. Keep those eyes shut!" There was a smooth, tingling sensation across the tips of my fingers, then my right hand was suddenly warm and wet. I opened my eyes to see Arthurjean holding a stained safety-razor blade in her hand and staring at me, white-faced, as the blood trickled from my finger-tips. "Winnie--" she faltered, and slumped down in the divan. I hastily grabbed the handkerchief from my breast-pocket and wrapped it around my throbbing fingers. "Ouch! Damn you!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry, baby," she whispered. "I didn't want to hurt you. It seemed the only way--" "You damned fool," I almost shouted at her. "Do you realize you flopped with that blade in your hand and might have cut an artery?" "No, did I?" She scrambled up hastily and looked around. "Gee, I feel lousy. Does it hurt much?" "Not yet. What's the big idea?" "Now you sound like Winnie," she replied. "He never got ideas easy. Listen, you big slob, if you've cut your fingers you got to have a bandage and if you got a bandage on your right hand, your signature's going to be screwy. All you need do is fumble it and I or one of the girls will witness it and the bank will clear it and you'll get the dough." I thought that one over. "You've got something in your head besides those big blue eyes," I admitted. "Now if you only have some iodine and bandages we'll see if I can stave off lock-jaw." She giggled. "Lock-jaw's the last thing _you'll_ get," she said. "There ought to be something in the medicine cabinet. Gee," she added. "I suppose I'll have to get you undressed and dress you in the morning just like a baby. Ain't that something?"