“Then,” said Nell Benton, “we must go to the police.”
Sidney Zoom shook his head.
“No,” he said, “Finley Carter deserves to be punished. He discharged you, when, if he had used his brains, he would have known you were the victim of a conspiracy which was soon to involve him. Moreover, there is compensation which you must receive. Carter has never been generous. The salary that he paid you shows you that he hasn’t even been fair. No, there’s another way of handling this. Let me think.”
He stared with a fixed, unwinking scrutiny, his eyes fastened upon distance.
At length he spoke; there was an accentless quality to his voice, as though he had been talking in his sleep.
“How many checks were signed when you left, Miss Benton?”
“I don’t know, half a dozen perhaps. Why?”
“These men aren’t forgers,” he said, “or else they know that they can’t forge Finley Carter’s signature well enough to fool a bank... Did Mr. Carter keep a police dog?”
“No. He’s afraid of dogs. He wouldn’t have them in the house.”
Zoom nodded slowly.
“We could,” said Samson, “go to the police and get a detective into the house as a building inspector or something.”
Zoom shook his head.
“There’s the matter of payment,” he said, “and there’s one other matter. I’m satisfied that they’ll kill Carter before they’d let him talk. He’s under guard, probably somewhere in the house.”
Suddenly he chuckled.
“I think,” he said, “I have it.”
He turned to Samson.
“You,” he said, “have got to act a part. You’ve got to keep your head. If anything goes wrong, you’ve got to be able to show that you were doing what you were doing for the purpose of exposing the guilt of these people.”
“What,” asked Samson, “am I supposed to do?”
Zoom made no reply, but picked up a telephone and dialed the number of Finley Carter’s residence.
“Will you,” he said, “please tell Mr. Finley Carter that I am Mr. Coleridge of the Second National Affiliate, and that I desire to talk with him over the telephone for a few moments.”
There was a moment of silence, then the receiver made a metallic noise, and Sidney Zoom said affably, “Our bank regrets causing you inconvenience in connection with your account, Mr. Carter, but we feel called upon to take determined steps to protect your interests. In order that there may be no possible misunderstanding, would you mind telling us what checks you have outstanding against your account? That is, checks that have not been cashed, but which may be presented within the next twenty-four hours.”
The metallic diaphragm of the receiver registered a squawking protest which sounded like static, then Sidney Zoom said, “I understand all that, Mr. Carter. I can only repeat that this is for your own protection.”
The receiver made more violent noises and Sidney Zoom’s voice lost its purring pleasantry.
“Very well,” he said, “if you want to take that course, you may do so. I was only trying to protect your interests... When may we expect this check to come in?... Very well, thank you.”
He slammed the receiver back into place and nodded to the little circle of his attentive listeners.
“Well,” he said, “I’ve done it.”
“Done what?”
“Led them to believe that the chase is so hot they’ve got to dust out. They were looking for an excuse.”
“What do you mean?” Nell Benton asked.
“They planned,” he said, “to make as large deposits as they possibly could in the account of the Second National Affiliate. They planned to withdraw those deposits by checks which had previously been signed by Mr. Carter, checks that were signed in blank because he knew that they couldn’t be raised. The fact that the account was limited to five hundred dollars kept him reasonably safe. What Carter overlooked, was the fact that it’s easy to make deposits where the money goes into a regular bank account, so the crooks simply took over Carter’s affairs, collected whatever sums came in through the mail, or whatever they could collect otherwise, and made huge deposits. Then they made large withdrawals in the form of what amounted virtually to cash.”
“Well?” asked Nell Benton.
“Now,” said Sidney Zoom, “the man who poses as Finley Carter, convinced that the game is about at an end, and thinking that he was talking to the bank, has advised me that he is sending down a check closing out the entire account. The balance, as I happen to know from my investigation, is ten thousand two hundred and ninety-one dollars and fifteen cents.”
Sidney Zoom opened a drawer in the table, from it he took a pad of blank checks drawn on the Second National Affiliate. Working with the skill of a practiced penman, he filled out a check in an angular handwriting. The check was payable to cash. The amount was ten thousand two hundred and ninety-one dollars and fifteen cents, and Sidney Zoom signed the name of Finley Carter to that check — signed it so perfectly that Nell Benton gave an exclamation.
“But,” she said, “it’s a perfect imitation of his signature.”
Zoom nodded.
“Therefore,” she said, “a forgery.”
Zoom nodded once more.
“And,” he said with pride in his voice, “a very good one.”
“But,” she said, “it’s against the law, you’d be sent to prison.”
Sidney Zoom smiled.
“After all,” he said, “my methods are irregular, I’ve warned you of that.”
“But,” she told him, “you mustn’t do that. It’s not right. It’s not the way to handle it.”
Sidney Zoom smiled at her.
“If,” he said, “I should tell you that by using this check I would save Mr. Carter ten thousand two hundred and ninety-one dollars and fifteen cents which he would otherwise lose, would you think that it was right?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, “if that’s the case.”
“That,” said Zoom, “is the case.”
He beckoned to Burt Samson.
It was a few minutes before dosing time at the bank when Sidney Zoom presented himself at the cashier’s window.
“You will remember me,” he said, “I was checking up on Mr. Carter’s account.”
The clerk nodded.
“I have been given a check,” said Sidney Zoom, “by a man who claimed to represent Mr. Carter, stating that he desires to dose out his account. The amount of the check is for ten thousand two hundred and ninety-one dollars and fifteen cents, which is, I believe, the exact amount Mr. Carter has on deposit.”
The cashier frowned.
“We don’t want him to draw out his account,” he said. “There must be some misunderstanding.”
Sidney Zoom said slowly, “I don’t think there is any misunderstanding, I think the check is a forgery.”
“You think it’s a forgery?” said the cashier.
Sidney Zoom nodded and produced the check.
“I have every reason,” he said, “to believe that check is a forgery.”
“Well,” the cashier said, “we’ll settle that in short order. I’ll get Mr. Carter on the telephone right now.”
He took the check and stepped to a telephone booth. Sidney Zoom could see the man through the glass of the booth. Could see his face darken with anger. Saw him try to talk, only to be interrupted.
A moment later the door banged shut and the cashier stepped back to the cage. His face was wrathful.
“The man,” he said, “is positively insulting. He told me that I could either pay this check or he would sue the bank for damages.”
“But it looks like a forgery,” Zoom said.