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 incredulous exclamation: evidently she knew what the detective was talking about and knew he was wrong.

"That's utter nonsense!" retorted Wraypoole. "The verification forms were properly signed by Mr. Morgan Pugh, a solicitor near my old place in Wandsworth Road—my wife and I were present, of course, when he signed them. We went to him because he was close by. What's more, I've his receipt in my pocket for the fee I paid him." He set down a small handbag and after some rummaging in a breast pocket, found a paper and handed it to the detective. "There you are!" he said triumphantly. "What about that?"

"Wedgwood looked closely at the signature of the receipt—which was certainly on Morgan Pugh's notepaper. The signature coincided with that he had seen at the Passport Office, but not with that of the Morgan Pugh he had visited.

"What was this Morgan Pugh like that you saw?" he asked, handing the receipt back. "Describe him!"

"Man about thirty—tallish—slight beard and moustache," answered Wraypoole, promptly.

"A yellowish beard and moustache," corrected Mrs. Wraypoole. "And blue eyes!"

"Had you ever seen him before?" asked