“If it isn’t paid, you still have us,” said Elaine.
“It might be managed.”
“That is your part. If the check is presented, it will be paid—you may rest easy, on that score.”
Jones resumed his contemplation of the ceiling.
“But remember,” she cautioned, “when it is paid, we are to be released, instantly. No holding us for Mr. Croyden to pay, also. If we play square with you, you must play square with us. I risk a fortune, see that you make good.”
“Your check—it should be one of the sort you always use——” 315
“I always carry a few blank checks in my handbag—and fortunately, I have it with me. You were careful to wrap it in with my arms. I will get it.”
She went into her room. In a moment she returned, the blank check in her fingers, and handed it to him. It was of a delicate robin’s-egg blue, with “The Tuscarora Trust Company” printed across the face in a darker shade, and her monogram, in gold, at the upper end.
“Is it sufficiently individual to raise a presumption of regularity?” she said.
“Undoubtedly!” he answered.