"Oh, no, sir. Not the cash. Deposit it in the account, please, and bring me the deposit slip. Mr. Hanshaw knows the bank."
"That's right," said Jack. "Broadway National, account of Supercolossal Mercantile Company. Here's the deposit slip on the two dollars for the television set."
"And we'll have it straightened out for you right away, Mr. Hanshaw, if you can only bring us the manual."
As the two of them headed for the door to the basement, Ken said to Jack in a low tone: "There goes another customer out ahead of us. I'm going to stop him outside and see if he can give us the answers to some of the things I don't understand about this place."
The customer, dressed like Edigo and all the others in the basement, went through the door just ahead of them. Jack caught it just before it shut. But when he and Ken mounted the steps, the man was nowhere in sight, either up or down the alley.
"Where could he have gone?" asked Ken in amazement. "He'd have had to run like hell to get out of the alley before we got up here."
They walked to the mouth of the alley and emerged into the glare of the neon lights. Ken held up his new watch and looked at it in a stunned sort of way.
"Say, you know something?" he said thoughtfully. "That fellow Edigo Adaman looks vaguely familiar to me."
"I noticed that, too," said Jack. "Look like any of your relatives?"
Ken considered. "No, not in the least."