Harvey Winston, paying teller of the First National Bank of Chicago, stripped the band from a bundle of twenty dollar bills, counted out seventeen of them and added them to the pile on the counter before him. "Twelve hundred and thirty-one tens," he read from the payroll change slip before him. The paymaster of the Cramer Packing Company nodded an assent and Winston turned to the stacked bills in his rear currency rack. He picked up a handful of bundles and turned back to the grill. His gaze swept the counter where, a moment before, he had stacked the twenties, and his jaw dropped. "You got those twenties, Mr. Trier?" he asked. "Got them? Of course not, how could I?" replied the paymaster. "There they are...." His voice trailed off into nothingness as he looked at the empty counter. "I must have dropped them," said Winston as he turned. He glanced back at the rear rack where his main stock of currency was piled. He stood paralyzed for a moment and then reached under the counter and pushed a button. The bank resounded instantly to the clangor of gongs and huge steel grills shot into place with a clang, sealing all doors and preventing anyone from entering or leaving the bank. The guards sprang to their stations with drawn weapons and from the inner offices the bank officials came swarming out. The cashier, followed by two men, hurried to the paying teller's cage. "What is it, Mr. Winston?" he cried. "I've been robbed!" gasped the teller. "Who by? How?" demanded the cashier. "I--I don't know, sir," stammered the teller. "I was counting out Mr. Trier's payroll, and after I had stacked the twenties I turned to get the tens. When I turned back the twenties were gone." "Where had they gone?" asked the cashier. "I don't know, sir. Mr. Trier was as surprised as I was, and then I turned back, thinking that I had knocked them off the counter, and I saw at a glance that there was a big hole in my back racks. You can see yourself, sir." The cashier turned to the paymaster. "Is this a practical joke, Mr. Trier?" he demanded sharply. "Of course not," replied the paymaster. "Winston's grill was closed. It still is. Granted that I might have reached the twenties he had piled up, how could I have gone through a grill and taken the rest of the missing money without his seeing me? The money disappeared almost instantly. It was there a moment before, for I noticed when Winston took the twenties from his rack that it was full." "But someone must have taken it," said the bewildered cashier. "Money doesn't walk off of its own accord or vanish into thin air--" A bell interrupted his speech. "There are the police," he said with an air of relief. "I'll let them in." * * * * *