“In real money?” insisted Tremaine, on whose forehead the cold ooze now began to stand out.
“Yes, sir; in banknotes. Don’t tell me, Tremaine, that your endorsement was forged.”
“But it was! I have endorsed no notes for anybody.”
“Yet, if it wasn’t your signature, it was as good as a photograph of your writing,” gasped Mr. Haight.
“Oh, Dixon has seen enough of my signature. He had no difficulty in getting plenty of material in that line to copy. Oh—the miserable scoundrel!”
Tom and Joe had heard this conversation quite unnoticed by either of the distracted gentlemen.
“One thing,” cried Tremaine, hoarsely; “I don’t believe the fellow can get far away from here before we can overtake him. This early discovery is most fortunate!”
“He can’t get a train away before four o’clock,” broke in Tom Halstead, energetically. “But he might get some kind of a craft out of Port Tampa. Hadn’t you better get on the ’phone, quickly, and inform the police! Also, you might inquire of the two station agents whether Dixon has bought a ticket away from Tampa.”
“Yes! And you and Joe Dawson hustle over the hotel! We must get hold of this precious, unmasked rascal! Come along, Haight!”
“I guess Dixon stock has dropped,” uttered Joe, grimly, as the two motor boat boys hurried away.