"But I shall not recover my hundred dollars."
"No; that is lost. Let me tell you something: There is a band of queer-makers somewhere in this vicinity. They do not attempt to run their stuff into circulation around here; the most of it is put out in Chicago. But they have been traced to this part of the country. Detectives are at work on the case—Secret Service men, in the employ of the government. Who these detectives are no one can say, although it has been reported that Dan Drake is in it. Up to this time they have been putting out tens and twenties. This fifty must be a new bit of work. And I have something more to tell you. It is said that the queen of this gang of counterfeiters is a beautiful young girl, who does not look to be more than seventeen years of age. It is possible——"
But he made a gesture of anger, because such a thing should be thought for a moment.
"It is not possible!" he said, sharply. "She is innocent of such a thing as that! You cannot make me believe——"
He stopped, noting that the look of scorn on the face of the receiving teller was deepening. Then, slowly and surely, the thought that the girl had deceived him, that she was not as innocent as she looked, came upon him. The mystery that surrounded her deepened, and a sudden longing to know the truth grasped him.
The receiving teller laughed shortly, as he saw the changes which flitted across the lad's face.
"There's guilt for you!" he muttered.
Frank stiffened up, giving the man a cutting look.
"What became of this girl for whom you changed two fifty-dollar bills?" asked the cashier.
"I do not remember what became of her," declared Frank. "She was a passenger on the Pacific Express. I left the express at Reno."