"I can parole him in your custody, I suppose, Mr. Lester?" the coroner
asked.
"Yes; certainly," I assented.
"Sylvester's evidence makes it look bad for him."
"Will you introduce me to Sylvester? I should like to go over the
prints with him."
"Certainly;" and, a moment later, with the prints spread out before
us, Sylvester was showing me their points of similarity.
Godfrey came forward while he was talking and stood looking over his
shoulder.
I had heard of finger-print identification, of course, many times, but
had made no study of the subject, and, I confess, the blurred
photographs which Sylvester offered for my inspection seemed to me
mighty poor evidence upon which to accuse a man of murder. The
photographs showed the prints considerably larger than life-size, but
this enlargement had also exaggerated the threads of the cloth, so
that the prints seemed half-concealed by a heavy mesh. To the naked
eye, the lines were almost indistinguishable, but under Sylvester's
powerful glass they came out more clearly.
"The thumb," said Sylvester, following the lines first to the right
and then to the left with the point of a pencil, "is what we call a
double whorl.
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