“Too bad you can’t place a few dollars,” he went on. “It’d be easy money.”
“Is your arm all right?” inquired the colonel.
“Never better. Hello, who’s that gink?”
The two turned to gaze at the doorway. The bank had just been opened for business, and, as things were not very brisk in Carsonville, this was the first customer of the day. And he was evidently a stranger.
“Must ’a’ come in on the mornin’ train,” observed Bully.
He was a well-set-up, quietly dressed man, and would have attracted little attention save for his remarkably fine build. A soft crush hat was pulled down over a pair of very keen but pleasant eyes, and the lower portion of his face was hidden by a curly dark beard.
The stranger gave a single glance at the two, and walked to the teller’s window. With a nod and a cheery “Good morning,” he drew out a long bill book and opened it. Colonel Carson gasped and clutched at his son’s shoulder, for the bill book appeared to be crammed with yellowbacks.
“I have a couple of certified checks I’d like you to cash for me, if you will.”
His voice was quiet and self-restrained.
“Certainly, sir,” replied the teller.