"Take off your rings and let me
see your hand."
With a deliberate gesture Loder put his hand behind his back.
"I never gratify childish curiosity," he said, with another
smile.
Again a flash of temper crossed her eyes. "Are you sure," she
said, "that it's quite wise to talk like that?"
Loder laughed again. "Is that a threat?"
"Perhaps."
"Then it's an empty one."
"Why?"
Before replying he waited a moment, looking down at her.
"I conclude," he began, quietly, "that your idea is to spread
this wild, improbable story--to ask people to believe that
John Chilcote, whom they see before them, is not John
Chilcote, but somebody else. Now you'll find that a harder
task than you imagine. This is a sceptical world, and people
are absurdly fond of their own eyesight. We are all
journalists nowadays--we all want facts. The first thing you
will be asked for is your proof. And what does your proof
consist of? The circumstance that John Chilcote, who has
always despised jewelry, has lately taken to wearing rings!
Your own statement, unattended by any witnesses, that with
those rings off his finger bears a scar belonging to another
man! No; on close examination I scarcely imagine that your
case would hold.
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