It was necessary to have the cheque “initialed” at the bank, which would place such an embargo on his funds as would prevent the possibility of his tampering with them by other means.
It was Saturday afternoon, and a half-holiday. Hurrying away as quickly as we could, we proceeded to the Merchants’ Bank. It was closed.
After some little delay we gained admission by the private door. The clerks were leaving, but informed us that no further business could be transacted until Monday.
Monday would be too late; the full nature of my compromise with Hooker would be laid before him by a legal authority, and, perhaps, was at that moment being divulged to him.
Steps might be taken to remove his funds from my grasp. He, too, would be told of the “hopelessness of my case,” and would, doubtless, set me at defiance.
I felt that if we failed now I should never recover one shilling of the money; that I should have to return to England beaten and disappointed, with a heavy bill of costs to add to the amount of which my firm had already been swindled.
With desperation I urged my solicitor forward, and we soon found ourselves in the interior of an inner office, where one of the chief tellers and junior still remained.
Fortunately for me and those whom I represented, the principal was a friend of my solicitor.
The cashier had his hat on, the junior was in the act of placing the last huge ledger in the iron safe, when he was stopped by Mr. Roe.
“One minute,” he exclaimed to his friend the cashier; “I will not detain you long, but in that ledger you will find an account opened, within the last few days, by a Mr. Hooker from England. He has just given me a cheque for nearly the whole amount, payable to the joint order of himself and this gentleman,” pointing to me. “We do not require the cash, but simply to have the cheque accepted by the bank.”