At six o'clock that night, Eliot Beekman dined at the Iroquois Hotel in Buffalo with J. K. Witheridge, cashier of the Bank Le Boeuf. "You were so successful, Mr. Beekman," said the cashier, when coffee and cigars had arrived, "with that hopeless Cantrell mix-up of ours in New York, that we thought we would give you a harder nut to crack. This time our claim is for $50,000, if it's a cent." Beekman pricked up his ears. This was worth a hurried trip to Buffalo and no mistake. "Against whom is your claim?" he asked. "One reason why we wanted to see you personally," the cashier went on to explain, "is because there seems to be a good deal of secrecy involved in this thing. Our claim is against the Tri-State Trust Company--our funds on deposit there. We want to get them back." "You stand a small chance ..." quickly spoke up Beekman. "In my opinion, Tri-State won't pay three per cent." "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." Again Beekman laughed. "If you were in New York you wouldn't say that. Everybody there knows that Wilkinson is a wreck." "Nevertheless we have our theory. We're willing to pay the shot," declared Witheridge. "Now, is there any reason why I shouldn't go on--tell you the rest--the confidential details? In other words, Mr. Beekman, is there any reason why you should not take up this case and probe Wilkinson to the finish?" Beekman thought for a while, weighing carefully the other's words. There was reputation in this thing; moreover, he felt that it would do Wilkinson no harm, for he was convinced of Wilkinson's honesty of purpose. He saw no reason why honest business should be refused. More than that, this Bank Le Boeuf had, in times past, employed him as its counsel, and all through dinner Witheridge had been pouring praises in his ear.