Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/104

94 "She is the owner of this house," he finally acknowledged.

"And why should I be asked to forge her name?" was my next question.

He raised one hand, reprovingly, and blinked at me over the ends of his fingers. My use of the word "forge" seemed to shock him a little. He fumbled for a moment or two in his pocket. Then he produced a folded slip of paper.

"I have here," he said, as he unfolded this paper, "a duly executed power of attorney, permitting you to exercise that right of signature."

I had to hold my mouth straight. But I looked the document over carefully as he held it up to me. He might have fooled a seven-year-old child with that trumped-up blind. But as I had said before, my middle name was Jeremiah with that old rogue. "But I am not Margaret Hueffer, and this power of attorney has been made out to her," I blandly protested.

He smiled mirthlessly, though triumphantly.

"But notice the words 'or bearer.' Margaret Hueffer or bearer! And clearly you will be the bearer. So that, my dear young lady, makes everything plain sailing for you, perfectly plain sailing. But this is not the point. The point is in the signa-