"Admitting all that," conceded the cashier, "it's not the Tri-State Trust Company that I want you to tackle; I want you to find its funds."
"Funds? It hasn't any!"
"Of course it hasn't, but we're satisfied—and other banks are satisfied—that somebody's got its funds. And the fellow that gets in first and right, is going to get his claim paid in full. That's why we sent for you. The man we've got to fight is Peter V. Wilkinson."
"Peter V. Wilkinson!" echoed the other. "And you say he's——"
"We claim he's bagged the spoils."
Beekman laughed outright.
"Why, man, he's smashed—ruined! He hasn't got a dollar to his name. I know him."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. And I'll tell you where I think you're off the track. His daughter has money—money of her own. It came from her mother—Wilkinson's first wife. I have no doubt that all these rumours about Wilkinson's cash,—although this is the first I've heard about it,—come from the fact that his daughter has money."
"Pshaw! She has less than a million dollars—we have the facts on that. We're not thinking about that; we believe Wilkinson has got upwards of fifty millions packed away."