"Never!" laughed Chick. "And the best of it is, Nick, your conclusions
nearly always prove to be correct. What's the verdict, old man?"

Nick glanced at the French clock on the mantel.

"Sit down and light up," he replied. "We have half an hour before
getting down to work against this push. I will devote it to informing
you of the case as it now appears."

"Good enough!" exclaimed Chick, drawing up a chair and lighting a cigar.
"Let her go, Nick. I am all ears, as the donkey said to the deacon."

"To begin with," began Nick, more gravely, "this order sent to
Hafferman, for the diamonds which he delivered at Venner's store, is
merely a forgery. Neither Venner nor Garside wrote it, that's as plain
as the nose on an elephant's face."

"Which is plain enough, surely," nodded Chick.

"Furthermore," continued Nick, "the forgery was not the work of any
clerk employed in either store. I have compared the writing of each and
every clerk with that of the forged order, and I will stake my
reputation upon my conclusion. The forgery was committed by some outside
party."

Nick was an expert chirographist. To have deceived him with a disguised
handwriting would have been utterly impossible, and none knew it better
than Chick, who now nodded approvingly.

"Some outside party, eh?"