“A mere trifle to a man who could pay fifty thousand dollars for throwing baseball games,” mused Joe. “Oh, I see that Mr. Harrish is drawing out his check book. And he has a fountain pen, too. How lucky!”
Harrish wrote out a check for the full amount. Joe scanned it.
“On one of the day and night banks, I see,” he remarked. “It will be open now. Suppose you indorse this, Reggie. Mr. Harrish will O. K. your signature and you can go right over and cash it now.”
The indorsement and O. K. were made and Reggie hurried out to collect his money.
“And now, gentlemen,” said Joe, turning to his friends, “would you mind going outside and waiting for the rest of us? Mr. Barclay and I want to settle a little matter with Mr. Harrish and Mr. Tompkinson in private. It won’t take us long.”
A flash of understanding passed among the group and they went with alacrity, though Harrish started to make a protest which they ignored.
Joe went to the door, closed it after them, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.
“And now, Mr. Tompkinson,” he said, as he threw off his coat, “will you kindly remove your false teeth?”