is someone who thinks he will,” I replied, glancing towards Polton, who, clasping in his arms the mysterious box and holding on to the microscope case, gazed at his master with a smile of ecstasy. “Polton has more faith than you have, Miss Gibson.”
“Yes, the dear, faithful little man!” she rejoined. “Well, we shall know the worst very soon now, at any rate.”
“The worst or the best,” I said. “We are now going to hear what the defence really is.”
“God grant that it may be a good defence,” she exclaimed in a low voice; and I—though not ordinarily a religious man—murmured “Amen!”
CHAPTER XVI
THORNDYKE PLAYS HIS CARD
As Thorndyke took his place in the box I looked at him with a sense of unreasonable surprise, feeling that I had never before fully realised what manner of man my friend was as to his externals. I had often noted the quiet strength of his face, its infinite intelligence, its attractiveness and magnetism; but I had never before appreciated what now impressed me most: that Thorndyke was actually the handsomest man I had ever seen. He was dressed simply, his appearance unaided by the flowing gown or awe-inspiring wig, and yet his presence dominated the court. Even the judge, despite his scarlet robe and trappings of office, looked commonplace by comparison, while the jurymen, who turned to look at him, seemed like beings of an inferior order. It was not alone the distinction of the tall figure, erect and dignified, nor the power and massive composure of his face, but the actual symmetry and comeliness of the face itself that now arrested my attention; a comeliness that made it akin rather to some classic mask, wrought in the ivory-toned marble of Pentelicus, than to the eager faces that move around us in the hurry and bustle of a life at once strenuous and trivial.
“You are attached to the medical school at St. Margaret’s Hospital, I believe, Dr. Thorndyke?” said Anstey.
“Yes. I am the lecturer on Medical Jurisprudence and Toxicology.”
“Have you had much experience of medico-legal inquiries?”
“A great deal. I am engaged exclusively in medico-legal work.”
“You heard the evidence relating to the two drops of blood found in the safe?”
“I did.”
“What is your opinion as to the condition of that blood?”
“I should say there is no doubt that it had been artificially treated—probably by defibrination.”
“Can you suggest any explanation of the condition of that blood?”
“I can.”
“Is your explanation connected with any peculiarities in the thumb-print on the paper that was found in the safe?”
“It is.”
“Have you given any attention to the subject of fingerprints?”
“Yes. A great deal of attention.”
“Be good enough to examine that paper” (here the usher handed to Thorndyke the memorandum slip). “Have you seen it before?”
“Yes. I saw it at Scotland Yard.”
“Did you examine it thoroughly?”
“Very thoroughly. The police officials gave me every facility and, with their permission, I took several photographs of it.”
“There is a mark on that paper resembling the print of a human thumb?”
“There is.”
“You have heard two expert witnesses swear that that mark was made by the left thumb of the prisoner, Reuben Hornby?”
“I have.”
“Do you agree to that statement?”
“I do not.”
“In your opinion, was the mark upon that paper made by the thumb of the prisoner?”
“No. I am convinced that it was not made by the thumb of Reuben Hornby.”
“Do you think that it was made by the thumb of some other person?”
“No. I am of opinion that it was not made by a human thumb at all.”
At this statement the judge paused for a moment, pen in hand, and stared at Thorndyke with his mouth slightly open, while the two experts looked at one another with raised eyebrows.
“By what means do you consider that the mark was produced?”
“By means of a stamp, either of india-rubber or, more probably, of chromicized gelatine.”
Here Polton, who had been, by degrees, rising to an erect posture, smote his thigh a resounding thwack and chuckled aloud, a proceeding that caused all eyes, including those of the judge, to be turned on him.
“If that noise is repeated,” said the judge, with a stony stare at the horrified offender—who had shrunk into the very smallest space that I have ever seen a human being occupy—“I shall cause the person who made it to be removed from the court.”
“I understand, then,” pursued Anstey, “that you consider the thumb-print, which has been sworn to as the prisoner’s, to be a forgery?”
“Yes. It is a forgery.”
“But is it possible to forge a thumb-print or a fingerprint?”
“It is not only possible, but quite easy to do.”
“As easy as to forge a signature, for instance?”
“Much more so, and infinitely more secure. A signature, being written with a pen, requires that the forgery should also be written with a pen, a process demanding very special skill and, after all, never resulting in an absolute facsimile. But a fingerprint is a stamped impression—the fingertip being the stamp; and it is only necessary to obtain a stamp identical in character with the fingertip, in order to produce an impression which is an absolute facsimile, in every respect, of the original, and totally indistinguishable from it.”
“Would there be no means at all of detecting the difference between a forged fingerprint and the genuine original?”
“None whatever; for the reason that there would be no difference to detect.”
“But you have stated, quite positively, that the thumb-print on this paper is a forgery. Now, if the forged print is indistinguishable from the original, how are you able to be certain that this particular print is a forgery?”
“I was speaking of what is possible with due care, but, obviously, a forger might, through inadvertence, fail to produce an absolute facsimile and then detection would be possible. That is what has happened in the present case. The forged print is not an absolute facsimile of the true print. There is a slight discrepancy. But, in addition to this, the paper bears intrinsic evidence that the thumb-print on it is a forgery.”
“We will consider that evidence presently, Dr. Thorndyke. To return to the possibility of forging a fingerprint, can you explain to us, without being too technical, by what methods it would be possible to produce such a stamp as you have referred to?”
“There are two principal methods that suggest themselves to me. The first, which is rather crude though easy to carry out, consists in taking an actual cast of the end of the finger. A mould would be made by pressing the finger into some plastic material, such as fine modelling clay or hot sealing wax, and then, by pouring a warm solution of gelatine into the mould, and allowing it to cool and solidify, a cast would be produced which would yield very perfect fingerprints. But this method would, as a rule, be useless for the purpose of the forger, as it could not, ordinarily, be carried out without the knowledge of the victim; though in the case of dead bodies and persons asleep or unconscious or under an anaesthetic, it could be practised with success, and would offer the advantage of requiring practically no technical skill or knowledge and no special appliances. The second