“I should say very decidedly not,” said Mr. Britton, “if I understood Marchmont aright. And, even if there were, let me tell you, these signatures that you have got wouldn’t help you. I have looked them over very closely⁠—and I have seen a few signatures in my time, you know. Marchmont asked me to glance over them as a matter of form, but I don’t believe in matters of form; I examined them very carefully. There is an appreciable amount of variation; a very appreciable amount. But under the variation one can trace the personal character (which is what matters); the subtle, indescribable quality that makes it recognizable to the expert eye as Jeffrey Blackmore’s writing. You understand me. There is such a quality, which remains when the coarser characteristics vary; just as a man may grow old, or fat, or bald, or may take to drink, and become quite changed; and yet, through it all, he preserves a certain something which makes him recognizable as a member of a particular family. Well, I find that quality in all those signatures, and so will you, if you have had enough experience of handwriting. I thought it best to mention it in case you might be giving yourself unnecessary trouble.”