carries with him from his cradle to his grave certain physical
marks which do not change their character, and by which he can
always be identified–and that without shade of doubt or question.
These marks are his signature, his physiological
autograph, so to speak, and this autograph can not be counterfeited,
nor can he disguise it or hide it away, nor can it
become illegible by the wear and mutations of time.
This signature is not his face–age can change that beyond
recognition; it is not his hair, for that can fall out; it is not
his height, for duplicates of that exist; it is not his form,
for duplicates of that exist also, whereas this signature is each
man’s very own–there is no duplicate of it among the swarming
populations of the globe! [The audience were interested once more.]
“This autograph consists of the delicate lines or
corrugations with which Nature marks the insides of the hands and
the soles of the feet. If you will look at the balls of your fingers–
you that have very sharp eyesight–you will observe that
these dainty curving lines lie close together, like those that
indicate the borders of oceans in maps, and that they form
various clearly defined patterns, such as arches, circles,
long curves, whorls, etc., and that these patters differ on the
different fingers. [Every man in the room had his hand up to the
light now, and his head canted to one side, and was minutely
scrutinizing the balls of his fingers; there were whispered
ejaculations of “Why, it’s so–I never noticed that before!”]
The patterns on the right hand are not the same as those on the left.
[Ejaculations of “Why, that’s so, too!”] Taken finger for finger,
your patterns differ from your neighbor’s. [Comparisons
were made all over the house–even the judge and jury were
absorbed in this curious work.] The patterns of a twin’s right
hand are not the same as those on his left. One twin’s patters
are never the same as his fellow twin’s patters–the jury will
find that the patterns upon the finger balls of the twins’ hands
follow this rule. [An examination of the twins’ hands was begun at once.]
You have often heard of twins who were so exactly
alike that when dressed alike their own parents could not tell them apart.
Yet there was never a twin born in to this world
that did not carry from birth to death a sure identifier in this
mysterious and marvelous natal autograph. That once known to you,
his fellow twin could never personate him and deceive you.”
Wilson stopped and stood silent. Inattention dies a quick
and sure death when a speaker does that. The stillness gives
warning that something is coming. All palms and finger balls
went down now, all slouching forms straightened, all heads came up,
all eyes were fastened upon Wilson’s face. He waited yet one, two,
three moments, to let his pause complete and perfect
its spell upon the house; then, when through the profound hush he
could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, he put out his
hand and took the Indian knife by the blade and held it aloft
where all could see the sinister spots upon its ivory handle;
then he said, in a level and passionless voice:
“Upon this haft stands the assassin’s natal autograph,
written in the blood of that helpless and unoffending old man who
loved you and whom you all loved. There is but one man in the
whole earth whose hand can duplicate that crimson sign”–
he paused and raised his eyes to the pendulum swinging back and forth–
“and please God we will produce that man in this room
before the clock strikes noon!”
Stunned, distraught, unconscious of its own movement, the
house half rose, as if expecting to see the murderer appear at
the door, and a breeze of muttered ejaculations swept the place.
“Order in the court!–sit down!” This from the sheriff. He was obeyed,
and quiet reigned again. Wilson stole a glance at Tom,
and said to himself, “He is flying signals of distress now; even
people who despise him are pitying him; they think this is a hard