"Whew!" whistled the agent. "What did you pay him?"
"We got the whole outfit for $3,000," said Charley proudly.
"Good Lord!" murmured the agent. "Cash or check?"
"Check on the Bank of West Palm Beach," answered Charley less proudly.
The agent glanced at the clock. "Ten minutes of nine," he said musingly. "The bank opens at eight. You have got a chance—just a bare chance." He shoved over a pad of telegraph blanks. "Just wire the bank to stop payment on that check."
"Why?" asked Charley, bewildered.
"Because, it's a rotten proposition," declared the agent earnestly; "rotten all the way through. If you can stop payment on that check you'll save losing $3,000, that's all."
Reluctantly Charley filled in a blank and shoved it over to the agent, who clicked it off rapidly on the key. When he had finished he came around from behind the partition. "It was none of my business, butting in in that way," he apologized, "but I hate to see a man robbed of his money."