He turned sidewise to the girl.
“Lord!” he exclaimed disgustedly. “Nothing but papers! Partner, we’re out of luck!”
Evidently the girl had been oblivious. Now, however, her quick, flashing fingers sorted the contents of that safe as with a practiced hand, to leave them, as had Annister, inviolate, save for that oblong of paper reposing now in the pocket of his coat.
In the shadow of the entrance it was black dark as they parted. The girl did not live in the hotel, she told him; that had been a part of her plan. They would meet again, of course. But once in his room, and with the shades drawn and the door locked and bolted, Annister, taking the paper from his pocket, smoothed it out under the light.
He looked; then looked again, breath indrawn sharply through clenched teeth.
For that paper was a canceled check; it had been drawn to “Cash”; and the signature, in a hand that he knew upon the instant, was the signature of his father, Travis Annister.
CHAPTER SIX
THE LIVING GHOST
Annister had heard nothing from Rook other than that he had been again invited to a further session of the “Club” for that evening.
Alone in his room on the morning following his adventure in Rook’s office, his eye had been caught and held by a news item printed on an inside page of the Durango County Gazette: he had nearly passed it over; but now the lines leaped out at him as if they had been blazoned across the paper in a double-column spread:
Travis Annister Still Strangely Missing—Retired Capitalist Gone Since January—Foul Play Feared