Johnny showed it to him triumphantly, but Gresham read it with a smile of contempt.
"I was correct in my suspicions of Birchard," he stated. "This document is a forgery. I hope you did not pay him any money on the strength of it."
Silently Johnny laid before him Birchard's receipt, and a second later as he saw the gleam of gratification in Gresham's eyes was sorry that he had done so.
"I am afraid that you have been swindled," was Gresham's altogether too sympathetic comment. "However, that does not concern the business in hand. This was the day appointed for the final settlement, and I have come prepared to make it with you."
"You'll have to wait," declared Johnny bluntly, putting away the documents.
"I must call your attention to the fact that if you do not close this matter to-day my principals are at liberty to place the property upon the market again."
"Advise them not to do so," Johnny warned him. "Under the circumstances I am certain that I can secure enough delay for investigation—legally, if necessary. I won't move a step until I've looked into this."
"Very well," said Gresham easily, and walked out.
Johnny, in a consternation that was barely short of panic, immediately consulted Loring, and together they set out upon a search for the Wobbleses. At their various hotels—for no two of them put up at the same place—it was discovered that they were severally "probably in the country at week-end parties". Tommy alone they found, but he knew so little and was so upset by what they told him that they were sorry he, too, had not attended a week-end party; and they left him gasping like a sea-lion, with his toupee down over his ear, and saying between gasps over and over again with perfectly vacant eyes: "Eugene's an ass! Perfect ass, don't you know!"
They spent some hopeless time in attempting to trace Birchard, but that gentleman had disappeared on the previous Saturday. No one had seen him or had heard of him or had thought of him. They put the case into the hands of detectives, and gave up hope.