"Wait a minute, Kenny. This wire must be out of order."
Kenny swore beneath his teeth.
"I said," he repeated with withering distinctness, "that I—am—mailing—to—you—my—check—for—four—thousand—dollars. And I want you to cash it in old bills. Get, that, Garry, please. Old bills."
"Old bills!" repeated Garry in a strangled voice. "For the love of Mike! … Old bills!"
"Garry! For God's sake, listen! This is absolute, unadulterated common sense. I want you to get that money in old bills, the older the better. Ragged if you can. And I want you to send it to me, Craig Farm, by registered package, special delivery."
"Are you in some mess or other? Because if you are I'll bring it."
"No, I can wait. I particularly don't want you to bring it. I can't explain now. I'll write you all the details. Then I want you to get a statement from the bank. Even with the four thousand gone, my balance ought to be at least a thousand dollars. See what they make it."
"Yes."
"Next I want you to call up Ann Marvin and ask her if she's still looking for another girl to share her studio with her … Ann Marvin."
"Peggy's with her."