Peter did run his eye over them and very carefully. They were all made out to the order of Mary Blake and for one thousand dollars. He turned them over and studied the endorsements. They were all alike. At the top, in a clear, slanting, characteristic hand was written "Pay to the order of the Scoville Bank--Mary Blake," and at the bottom, rubber-stamped, were the words, "Pay to the order of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York," the date, and "The Scoville Bank of New York, William Dunne, Cashier." "I think I'll make a call on Mr. William Dunne, Cashier," thought Peter, still following an insistent undercurrent of suggestion, as he made a mental note of the name of the bank. "It might be of interest to know how much of this corking good salary she's saved--and whether she--or any one else--has drawn heavily against it lately." Aloud he said-- "That's a lot of money, Mr. Jones! I didn't know they got anything like that. I can see I made the mistake of my life when I picked my profession. Think you could get me a job?" A slight grin made its way through the trouble and concern on the manager's face. "Better stick to your own job, Mr. Clancy," he said. "There aren't so many who make what Miss Blake does, believe _me_!" Peter had gathered up the photographs and risen to his feet. Jones, following his example, caught his arm as he approached the door. "For God's sake, keep me posted, Mr. Clancy," he said, anxiously. "I can't think she's thrown me down. Why, only about a month ago she had a pippin of an offer from a movie concern; far and away over anything I could afford to give her, though she does net me a lot. And do you think she'd consider it? Not on your life. She turned it down cold." "What reason did she give?" asked Peter, curiously. "Didn't give any, to me at least. I didn't know anything about it until Wolf, the producer, who's an old friend of mine, congratulated me on her sticking to me so tight. So, you see, I can't believe she's double-crossed me, and it's a pretty safe bet that I'll hear from her soon. If I do, I'll let you or Mr. Morris know." "Yes, do, by all means," said Peter. "I'll keep in touch with you, and for the love of Mike, don't let the story leak out. I'm sure I can trust to your discretion, Mr. Jones." "Oh, sure. Sure you can," promised the manager, easily. "It certainly wouldn't be to my interest to have it known--at least for the present." Peter did not like that last phrase very much, but he did not dare to place in jeopardy his present friendly relation with Jones by taking it up. He contented himself, therefore, with a smiling injunction to "keep it under his hat," and added: "By the way, Mr. Jones, is there anybody else--anybody you know of that Miss Blake might be likely to write to?"