"I'll not pay you one cent!" Paxton exploded. "Why, do you think you can frighten me into—"
"I have frightened you, Major," Black Hood said, smiling. "And it won't cost you a cent, either. All I want you to do is take a look at this check."
Black Hood drew the check, which he had taken from the dead fingers of the murdered Biggert, from a pocket in his belt. He held it so that Paxton could look at it. Paxton stared, and then suddenly looked at the Black Hood's eyes revealed in the slots of his black mask.
"Why, it's made out to me!"
"Remarkable, isn't it?" Black Hood said. "It was found in the fingers of the murdered Biggert." He turned the check over to show the endorsement. "Is that your signature?"
"It most certainly is! But, great heavens, I didn't receive any money from William Weedham. I'll have you know that I am a man of independent means. He's never given me a penny. Why, what does this mean?"
Black Hood studied the little man closely. He had seen liars before, and it seemed to him that if Paxton was lying he was doing a remarkable job of it.
"That's your signature, though," he persisted.
"Yes, but I didn't sign it." The major pressed a hand to his forehead. "Wait. I've an idea. A mere ghost of an idea!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette lighter. "My signature is engraved on this lighter," he explained. "Anyone could have borrowed my lighter and traced that endorsement. Let me see the check a moment."