“Did you look at the papers?” I asked.
“I glanced at them. I saw enough to be sure that they were never written by him. They looked to me as though they had been copied by a lawyer’s clerk.”
“Then you don’t believe this story about a dream?” Martin hesitated – or I thought he did. “Don’t you think his volunteering the tale was rather curious? Supposing he obtained them through any of the channels through which such things are to be obtained, it would have been at least more prudent to have kept the fact of their existence quiet.”
“I think this.” Martin’s tone was dry. “I think that with the papers he won’t pass. I know his mental capacity, and I doubt whether it will be possible to hammer the proper answers, even poll-parrot fashion, into his head.”
“He might take a copy of the answers
