Belder jumped up out of his chair and brought his hand down hard on Bertha Cool’s solid shoulder. “Mrs. Cool, you’re a brick! You’ve put it across! Somehow I had an idea you could. My gosh, if you could only realize—”
“Wait a minute,” Bertha Cool said. “There’s a deadline on it, an absolute deadline — four o’clock this afternoon. One minute past four is too late. That’s what he says, anyhow.”
Belder sobered. “That’s probably true. He’s been dipping into funds and they must have given him an absolute deadline of his own; something that he’s got to meet before five or six o’clock in order to keep from going to jail... Well, that means I’ve got to work fast.”
Bertha Cool said, “I presume a cashier’s cheque will be the best way of handling it. That will save you putting money in my account and then having my cheque certified.”
Belder was looking at his watch. “I’ve got to get in touch with my wife,” he said.
“You can’t handle this without her?”
“Certainly not.”
“She may be a little difficult to handle after that letter business,” Bertha pointed out.
Belder laughed. “Not on a business deal like this. She’ll nag me for weeks about my supposed affair with the maid, but she’ll write a cheque within five minutes after I tell her about this. After all, Mrs. Cool, it’s really my money, you know.”
“It used to be,” Bertha said dryly.