He was within for about a quarter of an hour, then he reappeared, and still carrying his suit-case, passed swiftly down the stairs and out into the street. The clock struck half-past nine as he disappeared, and a quarter of an hour later Stafford King received by special messenger a communication which gave him something to think about. He read it through twice, then called up the First Commissioner and gave him the gist of the communication.
"That's the third time we've had this sort of message," he said.
"The others have proved right," said the Commissioner's voice, "why shouldn't this?"
"But it seems incredible," said Stafford in perplexity. "We've been watching these people for years and we've never found them with the goods."
"I should certainly act on it, King, if I were you," said the Commissioner. "Let me know what happens. Of course, you may make a mistake, but you must take a chance on that."
Pinto had a lot of business to do at the theatre that night. For a week he had not banked the theatre's takings, but had converted them into paper money, and now he took from his safe the last penny he could carry. It was half-past eleven when he came to his Club, where supper had been prepared for him. He paid the bill from notes he had taken from the bank that day. Presently the waiter came back.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but the cashier says that this note is a wrong 'un."
"A wrong 'un?" said Pinto in surprise, and took it in his hand.
There was no doubt whatever that the man was right. It was the most obvious forgery he had ever handled.