Chapter 6
THE PAYING-TELLER of the Seventy-third National Bank looked swiftly but comprehensively at the check and then glanced through his cage at Conybear.
"How'll you have it, Mr. Conybear?" he asked.
"Hundreds," grunted the financier.
The teller reached beneath him. Twenty-five thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills was more than he had on the counters at either side of him. He shoved several packages through the little opening in the cage. Conybear swept them into an open bag, locked it, glanced at his companion, shrugged his shoulders and started for the bank door.
A tall, handsome man, in the early thirties, accosted him.
"I see you're in town, Mr. Conybear," he said. He nodded curtly to Conybear's companion, who returned the nod in the same casual way. Conybear did not noti
