busied himself at a cabinet.

Hudson rose from his desk and moved across to the cashier's window. His
lip curved disdainfully. Mr. Johnson's feet were brisk and cheerful on
the tiles. When his face appeared at the window, his hat and the long
black cigar were pushed up to angles parallel, jaunty and perilous. He
held in his hand a sheaf of papers belted with a rubber band; he slid
over the topmost of these papers, face down.

"It's endorsed," he said, pointing to his heavy signature.

"How will you have it, sir?" Hudson inquired with a smile of mocking
deference.

"Quick and now," said Pete.

Hudson flipped over the check. The sneer died from his face. His tongue
licked at his paling lips.

"What does this mean?" he stammered.

"Can't you read?" said Pete.

The cashier did not answer. He turned and called across the room:

"Mr. Marsh! Mr. Marsh!"

Marsh came quickly, warned by the startled note in the cashier's voice.
Hudson passed him the check with hands that trembled a little. The
vice-president's face mottled with red and white. The check was made