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.

“Do you remember a day, about six years ago, when Paul Benedict came into my house at Sevenoaks, with Nicholas Johnson and James Ramsey, and they all signed a paper together?”

“Very well,” replied Phipps.

“And do you remember that I said to you, after they were gone, that that paper gave me all of Benedict’s patent rights?”

Phipps looked up at the ceiling, and then said: 

“Yes, sir, and I remember that I said, ’It will make you very rich, won’t it, Mr. Belcher?’”

“And what did I reply to you?”

“You said, ‘That remains to be seen.’”

“All right.  Do you suppose you should know that paper if you were to see it?”

“I think I should—­after I’d seen it once.”

“Well, there it is—­suppose you take a look at it.”

“I remember it by two blots in the corner, and the red lines down the side.”

“You didn’t write your own name, did you?”

“It seems to me I did.”

“Suppose you examine the paper, under James Ramsey’s name, and see whether yours is there.”

Mr. Felcher walked to his glass, turning his back upon Phipps.  The latter sat down, and wrote his name upon the spot thus blindly suggested.

“It is here, sir.”

“Ah!  So you have found it!  You distinctly remember writing it on that occasion, and can swear to it, and to the signatures of the others?”

“Oh yes, sir.”

“And all this was done in my library, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you happen to be there when these other men were there?”

“You called me in, sir.”

“All right!  You never smoke, Phipps?”

“Never in the stable, sir.”

“Well, lay these cigars away where you have laid the rest of ’em, and go to bed.”