"Why?"
"It's such a large one," replied the detective, "and had I known what sum he had paid into his account I should have been suspicious."
"Then he has been to the bank?"
"To his own bank, yes. He went there yesterday afternoon at two o'clock—that is the day after he got it—so it would be sent round to Mr. Frettlby's bank, and would not be returned till next day, and as he died in the meanwhile I expect it hasn't been honoured, so Mr. Moreland won't have his money yet."
"I wonder what he'll do," said Chinston.
"Go to the manager and kick up a row," said Kilsip, coolly, "and the manager will no doubt tell him he'd better see the executors."
"But, my good friend, the manager doesn't know who the executors are," broke in Calton, impatiently. "You forget the will has yet to be read."
"Then he'll tell him to go to the late Mr. Frettlby's solicitors. I suppose he knows who they are," retorted Kilsip.
"Thinton and Tarbit," said Calton, musingly; "but it's questionable if Moreland would go to them."
"Why shouldn't he, sir?" said Kilsip, quickly. "He does not know anything about this," laying his hand on the confession, "and as the cheque is genuine enough he won't let five thousand pounds go without a struggle."