“Oh, how lovely, Edward! Why?”
“Signed by Harkness. What can the mystery of that be, Mary?”
“Edward, do you think—”
“Look here—look at this! Fifteen—fifteen—fifteen—thirty-four. Thirty-eight thousand five hundred! Mary, the sack isn’t worth twelve dollars, and Harkness—apparently—has paid about par for it.”
“And does it all come to us, do you think—instead of the ten thousand?”
“Why, it looks like it. And the cheques are made to ‘Bearer,’ too.”
“Is that good, Edward? What is it for?”
“A hint to collect them at some distant bank, I reckon. Perhaps Harkness doesn’t want the matter known. What is that—a note?”
“Yes. It was with the cheques.”
It was in the “Stephenson” handwriting, but there was no signature. It said: