"It's some of Mr. Kendrick's notes," he said. "They've just been presented. There's four hundred and fifty thousand of them altogether--lacking a few hundreds, and all the money we've got is a little over one hundred thousand."
"Where do these notes come from? Who presents them?"
"They are made out to different persons; but they are presented by the El Dorado Bank."
"Didn't Mr. Kendrick make any provision to meet them?"
"Maybe he did--I suppose so, for some of them are three weeks overdue. But he never said anything to me about them."
"Let me see them."
The bank's messenger was brought in, and I scrutinized the notes he presented. They were on their face made payable to a dozen or more men--some to one, some to another--but all had been indorsed to Peter Bolton.
There was no time to waste in lamentations, and there was but one resource in sight. I bade the messenger wait a minute, and hastened back to the syndicate's office.
"Here are three checks for you to sign," said Partridge. "The men are waiting for them in the anteroom."
They were for but small amounts, and I hastily added my name to the slips.