“Good idea,” commented Ned.
Accordingly Jerry looked up the dapper “Polly,” and, after a general conversation, managed to turn the talk to odd coins and bank bills.
“Do you remember that queer bill you showed me one day, not long ago?” asked Jerry.
“I do,” replied Paul.
“Have you got it yet?”
“No, my dear boy, I have not,” answered Paul, lighting one of his perfumed Egyptian cigarettes.
“What—what did you do with it?” asked Jerry, fearing lest the clue he hoped for had gotten away from him.
“I—humph! That’s queer, I forget now what I did do with it. Oh, yes! I remember now. Some young chap, a friend of yours I guess, asked me to sell it to him. He said he thought there was a premium on it. He gave me eleven dollars for it. I made one dollar, so I was satisfied. You know you said you were going to see if the bill had any value, but I guess you forgot it.”
“I did, for a fact,” said Jerry, sorry now he had not remembered to do as he had promised. “But who has the bill now?”