He started to write and threw the pen to the floor as it sputtered and ruined his handiwork.
“Why, what’s the matter, Mr. Calhoun?” cried Eells in astonishment, as the crowd came piling in.
“Gimme a pen!” commanded Wunpost, and, having seized the cashier’s, he began laboriously to write. “There!” he said, shoving the check through the wicket; and then he stood waiting, expectant.
The cashier glanced at the check and passed it back to Eells, who had hastened behind the grille, and then they looked at each other in alarm.
“Why–er–this check,” began Eells, “calls for forty-two thousand, eight hundred and fifty-two dollars. Do you want all that money now?”
266“W’y, sure!” shrilled Wunpost, “didn’t I tell you I wanted it?”
“Well, it’s rather unusual,” went on Judson Eells lamely, and then he spoke in an aside to his cashier.
“No! None of that, now!” burst out Wunpost in a fury, “don’t you frame up any monkey-business on me! I want my money, see? And I want it right now! Dig up, or I’ll wreck the whole dump!”
He brought his hand down again and Judson Eells retired while the cashier began to count out the bills.
“Here!” objected Wunpost, “I don’t want all that small stuff–where’s those thousand dollar bills I turned in? They’re gone? Well, for cripes’ sake, did you think they were a present?”