Only the signature seemed identical.
"That's the invariable mistake with the forger," said Demorest; "he always forgets that signatures ought to be identical with the text rather than with each other." But Stacy did not seem to hear this or require further proof.

His face was quite gray and his lips compressed until lost in his closely set beard as he gazed fixedly out of the window.

For the first time, really concerned and touched, Demorest laid his hand gently on his shoulder.
"Tell me, Jim, how much does this mean to you apart from me?
Don't think of me." "I don't know yet," said Stacy slowly.

"That's the trouble.

And I won't know until I know who's at the bottom of it.