“I’ve got everything fixed up at the bank,” he said, as he drew out a cheque and placed it on the table. “If you will just sign this cheque, Miss Singer.”
Nan looked at the cheque, which had been drawn in favour of A. A. Baggs for the sum of one thousand dollars. She looked at Baggs, her eyes a trifle wide.
“What is this for?” she asked.
“My fee for handling the case,” he smiled. “Just sign your name, and everything is fine.”
Nan hesitated, and a moment later Len came in. He had seen Baggs’s horse and buggy at the front of the house.
He nodded coldly at Baggs, stopping just inside the doorway.
“Well, I don’t know,” said Nan. “It—it doesn’t seem right for me to be signing cheques just yet.”
“What was it?” asked Len.
“Just a matter of signing a cheque covering my fee,” said Baggs coldly. “It doesn’t concern you, Ayres.”
“For how much?” asked Len, paying no attention to Baggs.