Paul Pry went at once to the end of the longest line he could see, stood there fumbling a deposit slip in his fingers.
He had been there less than five seconds when he saw the young woman who had taken the letter from the post office walk with quick, nervous steps to the window of the paying teller. She presented a cheque and was promptly referred to the cashier. Paul Pry watched her as she thrust the cheque through the window to the cashier, saw the hand of the cashier as it took the cheque and turned it over and over while he studied it intently.
A moment later, there was the faint sound of an electric buzzer. A uniformed officer who had been loitering about, watching the patrons idly, suddenly stiffened to attention, looked about him, caught a signal from the cashier. He moved unostentatiously forward.
During all of this time the young woman had stood at the window, apparently entirely oblivious of what was taking place about her.
Paul Pry walked to the telephone booths, dropped a nickel and called the number of Perry C Hammond.
A moment later, a feminine voice announced that Mr. Hammond’s secretary was speaking, and Paul Pry stated that he desired to speak with Mr. Hammond concerning the matter of a twenty-five thousand dollar cheque which had been issued to Fremont Burke.
Almost at once he heard the sound of whispers, and then Hammond’s voice came over the wire, a voice which was dry with nervousness, despite the millionaire’s attempt to make it sound casual.
“How are you this afternoon, Mr. Hammond?” said Paul Pry cordially.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” asked the millionaire.
“Oh,” said Paul Pry casually, “I just wanted to advise you that I had stolen twenty-five thousand dollars from you and that I trusted the loss wouldn’t inconvenience you in any way.”
“That you had what?” screamed the millionaire.
“Stolen twenty-five thousand dollars from you,” Paul Pry remarked. “I don’t think that there’s any occasion to get excited over it. From all I hear, you can well afford to spare it. But I didn’t want you to be embarrassed on account of the theft.”
“What are you talking about?” Hammond demanded.
“Merely,” said Paul Pry, “that my name happens to be Fremont Burke. I was flat broke and had tried to get five dollars from my brother in Denver. I called at the post office to see if there was any mail for me, and a letter was delivered to me. I opened it and saw there was a cheque enclosed for twenty-five thousand dollars, payable to bearer.
“Naturally, I thought the thing was some sort of a joke, but thought perhaps I might be able to get the price of a meal out of it, so I took it to the bank. To my surprise, they cashed it at once and without question. 1 realized then, of course, that I had, fortunately, stumbled on a remittance which was intended for someone else. Not wishing to disappoint the someone else, I forged your name to a cheque, put it in an envelope and mailed it to Fremont Burke, in care of General Delivery.”
The millionaire’s voice was almost a scream of terror.
“You did what?” he shrieked.
“Come, come,” said Paul Pry. “There’s no need of so much excitement. I forged your cheque for twenty-five thousand dollars and put it in the mail. It occurred to me that the person who received that cheque might have been expecting a legitimate business remittance from you, and would probably put the cheque through his bank for collection, or might possibly present the cheque at the cashier’s window.
“Under the circumstances, the cheque would probably be branded as a forgery. I did my best to make the forgery a good one, but, you understand, even a large bank will look carefully at a second cheque for twenty-five thousand dollars, payable to bearer, which is presented in the course of one business day.
“It occurs to me, therefore, that if the bank should advise you someone has forged a cheque and is presenting it for collection, it might be advisable for you to refuse to prosecute that person on the ground of forgery. You see, he might be acting in perfect good faith, and...”
There was an inarticulate exclamation at the other end of the line, followed by the slamming of a receiver on the hook. Paul Pry figured that Perry Hammond had cut off the connection in order to rush through a call to the bank.
He strolled from the telephone booth, walked across to a desk, filled out a deposit slip and strolled to the window which was nearest to the cashier’s window.
The uniformed officer had moved up and taken the young woman by the arm. She was white-faced and trembling.
“I tell you,” Paul Pry heard her say, “I know nothing whatever about it, except that I was hired to get this cheque out of the mail and cash it. After I had the money I was supposed to call a certain telephone number, and I would then be given instructions as to how I should proceed. That’s all I know about it.”
The telephone at the cashier’s elbow rang sharply and insistently. The cashier picked up the telephone, said, “Hello,” and then let surprise register on his countenance. After a moment he said: “Yes, Mr. Hammond, late this morning. I remembered particularly that you had left instructions about the matter, and...”
The receiver made squawking, metallic noises which were inaudible to Paul Pry’s ears, but the face of the cashier flushed with colour.
“Just a minute,” he said. “I think you’re nervous and excited, Mr. Hammond. If you’ll just...”
He was interrupted by more squawking noises from the receiver.
The line at which Paul Pry had been standing moved up, so that Paul Pry found himself at the window.
“I wish to make a deposit,” he said, thrusting the deposit slip through the window, together with ten of the one-hundred-dollar bills he had received from the bank earlier in the day.
The man at the window was smiling and affable. “You should go down to the fourth window,” he said, “the one marked ‘Deposits — M to R’.”
Paul Pry looked apologetic and embarrassed.
“Just right down there where you see the lettering over the window,” said the man, smiling unctuously.
Paul Pry walked slowly past the cashier’s window. He was in time to hear the cashier say to the officer: “It’s quite all right, Madson. We can’t cash this cheque because the signature is irregular; but Mr. Hammond promises that he will rectify the matter, so far as Mr. Burke is concerned. It seems there’s been a very serious mistake, for which the bank is in no way responsible. It’s due to the carelessness of a customer in mailing cheques payable to bearer...”
There was more, which Paul Pry could not hear because it was delivered in a lower voice, a voice which was almost surreptitiously confidential, and because appearances required that Paul Pry should move over toward the window which had been pointed out to him.
He did, however, see the young lady move away from the window, in the direction of the telephone booths. She dropped a coin and called a number. She talked rapidly and excitedly, then paused to listen for several seconds, at the end of which time she nodded her head and hung up the telephone.
Paul Pry followed her from the bank, down to the kerb, where he saw the same car which he had seen parked in front of the post office. The young woman got into the car, which at once drove off.
This time, Paul Pry’s car was parked where he had no difficulty in getting into an advantageous position directly behind the coupé which he was trailing. He ripped the red police tag from the steering wheel, thrust it in his pocket, and concentrated his attention upon following the car ahead.
It was not a particularly easy task. The young woman in the car ahead was a good driver, and she was evidently going some place in very much of a hurry.