CHAPTER XI.A DISTINGUISHED SCOUNDREL.
“Yes, my friend, I intend to earn my fee,” the cold voice declared to the empty room. “The only difference is that the fee is somewhat larger than I’ve given you reason to believe.”
Leaning back in his chair, Doctor Stephen Follansbee blotted the check, then, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, he unlocked the top drawer of the desk and slipped the check into a small leather-bound book which lay inside.
“Just to make sure that I receive my just dues,” he went on, “I’ll turn this check in on Saturday instead of Monday. You’re mad enough on one point, James Stone, but you’re a shrewd man outside of that, and it might occur to you to stop payment on that check.” His short, cackling laugh rang out anew.
Half an hour later he left his house. He did
