"What about your own private account?" asked Pinto.
"That's my business," said the colonel sharply. He filled in the cheque, signed his name with a flourish and handed the pen to Crewe.
Crewe put his name beneath, saw that the cheque was made payable to bearer, and handed the book to the colonel.
"Here, Pinto." The colonel detached the form and blotted it. "Take a taxi-cab, see Ferguson, bring the money straight back here. Or, better still, go on to the City to the New York Guaranty and change it into American money."
"Do you trust Pinto?" asked Crewe bluntly after the other had gone.
"No," said the colonel, "I don't trust Pinto or you. And if Pinto had plenty of time I shouldn't expect to see that money again. But he's got to be back here in a couple of hours, and I don't think he can get away before. Besides, at the present juncture," he reflected, "he wouldn't bolt because he doesn't know how serious the position is."
"Where are you going, colonel?" asked Crewe curiously. "I mean, when you get away from here?"
Boundary's broad face creased with smiles.
"What a foolish question to ask," he said. "Timbuctoo, Tangier, America, Buenos Ayres, Madrid, China——"
"Which means you're not going to tell, and I don't blame you," said Crewe.