Wyndham went immediately to Craig Porter’s bedroom, and Vera answered his soft rap on the door. He signed to her to step into the hall, and she did so with evident reluctance.
“Dorothy wishes to know where the ten-dollar bank note came from which you gave her on Thursday,” he began stiffly. He both felt and resented Vera’s altered attitude toward him. “My question is not prompted by idle curiosity,” he explained before she could speak. “I will explain later; just now I am in a hurry.”
Vera eyed him distrustfully. “It is hardly a question of any importance; Millicent cashed a check for me in Washington the first of the week, Monday to be exact—”
“Where did she cash the check?”
“At her bank I suppose,” coldly. “My check was good—”
“Oh, yes; it was nothing of that kind,” in embarrassment. “I’ll tell you all about it bye and bye.” And he hastened downstairs, leaving Vera staring after him in bewilderment.
Wyndham found the Secret Service agent waiting for him at the foot of the staircase, his overcoat over his arm and hat in hand.
“I didn’t meet with much luck, Mr. Anthony,” he said. “The trail of the counterfeiter doubles back to Washington.”
“Ah! Miss Dorothy Deane had it given to her there?”
“No; her sister, Miss Vera Deane, gave her the bill.” Wyndham came down the remaining steps to assist Anthony on with his overcoat.