“I see—­a retainer—­thanks!”

All the time the hawk-eyes were looking into Mr. Belcher.  All the time the scalp was moving backward and forward, as if he had just procured a new one, that might be filled up before night, but for the moment was a trifle large.  All the time there was a subtle scorn upon the lips, the flavor of which the finely curved nose apprehended with approval.

“What’s the case, General?”

The General drew from his pocket his forged assignment, and passed it into the hand of Mr. Cavendish.

“Is that a legally constructed document?” he inquired.

Mr. Cavendish read it carefully, every word.  He looked at the signatures.  He looked at the blank page on the back.  He looked at the tape with which it was bound.  He fingered the knot with which it was tied.  He folded it carefully, and handed it back.

“Yes—­absolutely perfect,” he said.  “Of course I know nothing about the signatures.  Is the assignor living?”

“That is precisely what I don’t know,” replied Mr. Belcher.  “I supposed him to be dead for years.  I have now reason to suspect that he is living.”

“Have you been using these patents?

“Yes, and I’ve made piles of money on them.”

“Is your right contested?”

“No; but I have reason to believe that it will be.”

“What reason?” inquired Mr. Cavendish, sharply.

Mr. Belcher was puzzled.

“Well, the man has been insane, and has forgotten, very likely, what he did before his insanity.  I have reason to believe that such is the case, and that he intends to contest my right to the inventions which this paper conveys to me.”

“What reason, now?”

Mr. Belcher’s broad expanse of face crimsoned into a blush, and he simply answered: 

“I know the man.”

“Who is his lawyer?”

“Balfour.”

Mr. Cavendish gave a little start.

“Let me see that paper again,” said he.

After looking it through again, he said, dryly: 

“I know Balfour.  He is a shrewd man, and a good lawyer:  and unless he has a case, or thinks he has one, he will not fight this document.  What deviltry there is in it, I don’t know, and I don’t want you to tell me.  I can tell you that you have a hard man to fight.  Where are these witnesses?”

“Two of them are dead.  One of them is living, and is now in the city.”

“What can he swear to?”

“He can swear to his own signature, and to all the rest.  He can relate and swear to all the circumstances attending the execution of the paper.”

“And you know that these rights were never previously conveyed.”

“Yes, I know they never were.”

“Then, mark you, General, Balfour has no case at all—­provided this isn’t a dirty paper.  If it is a dirty paper, and you want me to serve you, keep your tongue to yourself.  You’ve recorded it, of course.”