The truth flashed upon Kenyon.
“And that was his price—that check that you gave me in the cab?”
“Yes,” she answered, almost in a whisper.
His eyes searched her face for a space. Heavens! Balmacenso must have been a fool as well as a knave.
“What sort of a portrait of you was it that was sent him?” asked Kenyon.
“A very good one.”
“It couldn’t have been,” disagreed he, briefly.
Then he took a folded slip of paper from his pocket. Opening it he said: “Then Hong Yo signed the checks for Austin & Co.?”
“Either he or Mr. Forrester.”
Kenyon touched one end of the slip to a flame that shot up from the grate. In an instant the check was in ashes.