"The straight truth. I have a nephew in a little east side bank above Grand street, and he says she has a fat account there, and that he has seen three other bank books in her possession."
"Well, I'll be hanged!" exclaimed Fred. "I thought I knew a thing or two, but that yarn jiggers me."
The old man laughed and was going to say more when a crowd of boys came in. Business had closed for the day, and every messenger boy in Wall and Broad streets had made a rush to see Fred and Bob in their new role as bankers. Boothblacks and newsboys were among them, and they made the welkin ring with their shouts.
"Say, give us a loan, Bob."
"Cash a check for me, Fred."
"How much chink have you got, boys?"
"Where did you break in, Fred?"
"How much did you get?"
"Where were the cops?"
"Ah, let up on that, cullies!" sung out Fred. "Come by to-morrow at this time and get a ticket for a square meal. It's none of your business where we got it. We've got it and that's enough."