Mr. Benedict’s mind was getting confused again, and he began to stammer.  Mr. Cavendish wondered that, in some way, Mr. Balfour did not come to the relief of his witness, but he sat perfectly quiet, and apparently unconcerned.  Mr. Cavendish rummaged among his papers, and withdrew two letters.  These he handed to the witness.  “Now,” said he, “will the witness examine these letters, and tell us whether he recognizes the signatures as genuine?”

Mr. Benedict took the two letters, of which he had already heard through Sam Yates, and very carefully read them.  His quick, mechanical eye measured the length and every peculiarity of the signatures.  He spent so much time upon them that even the court grew impatient.

“Take all the time you need, witness,” said Mr. Balfour.

“All day, of course, if necessary,” responded Mr. Cavendish raspingly.

“I think these are genuine autograph letters, both of them,” said Mr. Benedict.

“Thank you:  now please hand them back to me.”

“I have special reasons for requesting the Court to impound these letters,” said Mr. Balfour.  “They will be needed again in the case.”

“The witness will hand the letters to the clerk,” said the judge.

Mr. Cavendish was annoyed, but acquiesced gracefully.  Then he took up the assignment, and said:  “Witness, I hold in my hand a document signed, sealed and witnessed on the 4th day of May, 1860, by which Paul Benedict conveys to Robert Belcher his title to the patents, certified copies of which have been placed in evidence.  I want you to examine carefully your own signature, and those of Johnson and Ramsey.  Happily, one of the witnesses is still living, and is ready, not only to swear to his own signature, but to yours and to those of the other witnesses.”

Mr. Cavendish advanced, and handed Benedict the instrument.  The inventor opened it, looked it hurriedly through, and then paused at the signatures.  After examining them long, with naked eyes, he drew a glass from his pocket, and scrutinized them with a curious, absorbed look, forgetful, apparently, where he was.

“Is the witness going to sleep?” inquired Mr. Cavendish; but he did not stir.  Mr. Belcher drew a large handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped his red, perspiring face.  It was an awful moment to him.  Phipps, in his seat, was as pale as a ghost, and sat watching his master.

At last Mr. Benedict looked up.  He seemed as if he had been deprived of the power of speech.  His face was full of pain and fright.  “I do not know what to say to this,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t!  I thought you wouldn’t!  Still, we should like to know your opinion of the instrument,” said Mr. Cavendish.

“I don’t think you would like to know it, sir,” said Benedict, quietly.

“What does the witness insinuate?” exclaimed the lawyer, jumping to his feet.  “No insinuations, sir!”

“Insinuations are very apt to breed insinuations,” said the Judge, quietly.  “The witness has manifested no disinclination to answer your direct questions.”