"Now just run your eye through that, Dr. Jervis," she said, handing me a
folded paper, "and give me your advice on my answers."
I opened the paper and read: "The Committee of the Society for the
Protection of Paralysed Idiots, in submitting this--"
"Oh! that isn't it; I have given you the wrong paper. How silly of me!
That is the appeal of--you remember, Juliet, dear, that troublesome
person--I had, really, to be quite rude, you know, Dr. Jervis; I had to
tell him that charity begins at home, although, thank Heaven! none of us
are paralysed, but we must consider our own, mustn't we? And then--"
"Do you think this is the one, dear?" interposed Juliet, in whose pale
cheek the ghost of a dimple had appeared. "It looks cleaner than most of
the others."
She selected a folded paper from the purse which Mrs. Hornby was holding
with both hands extended to its utmost, as though she were about to
produce a burst of music, and, opening it, glanced at its contents.
"Yes, this is your evidence," she said, and passed the paper to me.
I took the document from her hand and, in spite of the conclusion at
which I had arrived, examined it with eager curiosity. And at the very
first glance I felt my head swim and my heart throb violently. For the
paper was headed: "Evidence respecting the Thumbograph," and in every
one of the five small "e's" that occurred in that sentence I could see
plainly by the strong out-door light a small break or interval in the
summit of the loop.
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