“That’s it.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Miss Templin can,” said Nick, looking at the young lady. Whereupon the latter said:
“The man was perhaps sixty years old, but looked older on account of very white hair and long white whiskers, white eyebrows and a very red face. He——”
“Wait a moment,” exclaimed the cashier, interrupting Miss Templin. “There is no need of your going any further.”
“Then you know him?” asked Nick.
“Yes. He was here on that day, as my books will show.”
“Well, what is his name?”
“His name was Miles Mackenzie.”
“What!” shouted the president, springing up from his chair. “The man who——”