“There’s nothing wrong, Mr. Carter, I hope?” he asked quickly. “I was very doubtful of honoring the check, but I had Mr. Stone’s own note to justify me.” From the desk at his elbow he picked up a sheet of paper bearing the Hotel Windermere heading, and held it out. Nick glanced at the big, careless scrawl. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve seen specimens of Stone’s writing, and I don’t think there’s any doubt that this is his.” The cashier then extended a check marked “paid,” and made out to “S. Follansbee.” There were probably several men among New York City’s five millions who had the right to that name and initial, but it seemed perfectly safe to eliminate all but one. It was the sum called for, however, that riveted the detective’s attention at once and caused him to fairly gasp. “Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars!” he ejaculated. “Great Scott! That practically cleans out Stone’s account, doesn’t it?” “It leaves only twenty-five or thirty thousand, I believe,” was the worried answer. The detective was still examining the check, and the cashier watched the keen face for a few moments. “You seem greatly startled by the amount, Mr. Carter,” he ventured presently. “Please tell me if there’s anything out of the way. I had my doubts about it—owing solely to the size of the check; therefore I kept the man waiting until I had sent around to the hotel to make sure, but neither Mr. Stone nor his friend Mr. Crawford, who also has a large sum on deposit, was within reach.” “Did Follansbee present the check?” “Oh, no. It was a young man who looked like a rather superior sort of servant, and who spoke English with a slight accent—German or Austrian, I think. The check was endorsed, as you see, and the man brought with him not only that note purporting to be signed by Mr. Stone, but also one from Doctor Follansbee on St. Swithin’s stationery. Here it is.” He handed Nick another sheet, bearing Follansbee’s signature under an authorization to cash the check for his agent. “That’s undoubtedly genuine,” the cashier went on. “I called up Doctor Follansbee at the hospital, and he assured me that everything was regular. There didn’t seem to be anything to do but to take his word for it, owing to his position and reputation. It seemed very queer, though, and I couldn’t understand why he didn’t send the check to his own bank and let it take the usual course.” “You cashed it, then, in currency?” “Yes, the man brought along a hand bag and carried away the money in it.” “Did you mark any of the bills?” “Yes; many of those of large denomination. I felt compelled to take that precaution, although it seemed foolish. There were too many of them, though, to mark anywhere near all.” Carter leaned forward suddenly, and, holding Stone’s note and the check together, placed them in front of the cashier. “Do you notice any striking peculiarities about these two documents?” he asked. The bank official scrutinized them carefully.