Money makes money.
With five hundred dollars he would at least obtain a start.
Visions of successful speculations in the institutions known as "bucket shops," which cluster around the Stock Exchange, floated through his brain.
If he had luck, as many of his acquaintances had had before him, his five hundred might be doubled in no time at all, and the thousand thus increased to ten in a comparative short space of time.
And then——
"Well, Cutts, I'll do it!" he exclaimed at last; "but, mind, if you go back on me, I can make it as hot for you at police headquarters as you can for me at the bank. I'll show you the signature-book of the Webster Bank, and let you trace old Hendrickson's autograph from it—but don't expect me to do anything else."
"I shan't, my boy, for that's all I want," replied the detective, with an air of triumph. "Now let's have another drink."
There were two doors connecting with the private wine room of Dyball's club.
One opened into the main or card room, and the other out into the hallway, from which descended the stairs leading to the street.
Had Detective Cutts been a little older in the business, and a little more observing withal, he might have noticed that during all his conversation with Frank Mansfield this hall door stood open on the crack.