Capitolo 12
"You look at the green ink", he responded. "Besides, I remember the
the a lot of form of the last one blooms. I bloomed some as that in
the excitement of the moment with which I don't always do my
signature to regulate."
"He is done there", I responded, recognising it. "But as the dickens
did he/she succeed in transferring him/it to the cheque? This looks as Your
own writing, Charles, not an intelligent falsification."
"It is", he said. "I admit him--I cannot deny him/it. Only desire his
deceiving me when I was the most greater departs on my watch! I would not be picked up
in from some of his/her hidden makeups and fools and taking-words; but it never
happened to me he was about to financially sacrifice me in this
way. I expected me for attempts to a loan or an extortion; but to put the collar to
my signature to a white cheque--atrocious!"
"How did it handle him/it?" I asked.
"I don't have the conception weakest. I only know that those are the
words that I have written. I could swear wherever to them."
"Cannot you protest the cheque then?"
"Unfortunately, no; it is mine proper true signature."
We went that afternoon without delay to see the Principal Commissioner
of Police in the office. He was a chivalrous French, very less
formal and red-tapey how usual, and he spoke excellent English
with an American accent, having acted, in fact, as a detective in
New York for approximately ten years in his/her first virility.
"I guess", he slowly said, after having felt our history, "you have been,
right sacrificed here of Colonel Clay gentlemen."
"Who Colonel Clay is?" Mr. to which Charles has asked.
"That is what I want to know", the Commissioner answered, in
his/her curious American-French-English. "He is a Colonel, because him
every now and then an errand is given; him has called Colonel Clay,
because he seems to possess an Indian-rubber face, and he is able
shape him/it likes clay in the hands of the potter. Indeed you call, unknown.
Nationality, equally French and the English. Addresses, usually Europe.