Scrape! scrape! until she had a neat little pile of finely powdered graphite.
Then she poured it on the paper and taking the sheet daintily by the edges, so that she would not mix her own finger prints with the others, she rolled the powder back and forth.

As she looked anxiously she could see the little grains adhering to the paper.
A fine camel's hair brush lay on the table, for penciling.

She took it deftly.

It made her think of that first time when she painted the checks for Carlton.

A lump came into her throat.
There they were, the second pair of telltale prints.