This is the best I can do for you, as I haven't the money on hand. Cash it yourself, take out your thirty-five hundred and hold the additional five hundred until I, or one of the family, call for it. I made the thing payable to Bearer because I imagined you would prefer it that way. Send me some sort of receipt by Johnson; anything will do. I will see my lawyer in a day or two. Meanwhile have your papers, deeds, etc., ready when he calls for them. Yours truly, JAMES W. COLTON. For a minute I considered. If I could cash the check at the bank without Taylor's knowledge and get him off to Boston on the early train, I might be able to cover my tracks. It was necessary that they should be covered. Knowing George as I did I knew that he would never consent to my sacrifice. He would not permit me to wreck my future in Denboro to save him. The money must be turned over to the Boston bankers and the bank's bonds once more in the vault where they belonged before he learned where that money came from. Then it would be too late to refuse and too late to undo what had been done. He would have to accept and I might be able to prevail upon him to keep silent regarding the whole affair. I disliked the check with Colton's name upon it; I should have much preferred the cash; but cash, it seemed, could not be had without considerable delay, and with that bank examiner's visit imminent every moment of time was valuable. I folded the check, put it in my pocketbook, and, hastily scribbling a receipt in pencil at the bottom of Colton's note, replaced the latter in the envelope and handed it to Johnson, who departed. Entering the dining-room I found Dorinda and Lute at the window, peering after the butler. “By time!” exclaimed Lute, “if I didn't know I should say he was a bigger big-bug than old Colton himself. Look how he struts! He sartin is a dignified lookin' man. I don't see how he ever come to be just hired help.” “Um-hm,” sniffed the cynical Mrs. Rogers. “Well; you can get an awful lot of dignity for its board and lodgin'! There's nothin' much more dignified or struts much better'n a rooster, but it's the hens that lay the eggs. What did he want, Roscoe?” I made some excuse or other for Mr. Johnson's early call and, taking my cap from the rack, hurried from the house. I went “across lots” and, running a good part of the way, reached the bank just as Sam Wheeler was sweeping out. He expressed surprise at my early arrival and wished to know what was up. “Ain't nothin' wrong, is there, Ros?” asked Sam anxiously. “I saw by the paper that the market was feverish again yesterday.”