“George Montgomery.”
On receipt of this despatch the firm telegraphed to Mrs. Montgomery, and received in reply a request to assure her husband that all was well, and to beg him to return to his wife without delay.
On the evening of the 10th, the Atlantic cable carried the following message in cipher:
“We have remitted five thousand dollars, by cable, as requested. Your wife entreats you to return, and says, ‘All is well.’
“Alford & Montgomery.”
When this message was delivered and translated, the receiver smiled strangely as he lit a fresh cigar, adding, after he had established its fire, “Seeing how easy it has been, I’m only sorry, friend Montgomery, that I did not cable for twenty thousand dollars instead of five thousand dollars. It was a bright idea to steal that very useful code of yours.”
At that moment the clank of a heavy sabre on the marble floor of the hotel smote on his ear, and the weight of a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.
“I arrest you, señor, at the instance of the Bank of Madrid.”
“The charge?” fiercely ejaculated the other, finding his struggles useless.
“Forgery,” was the grim and laconic reply.