VI
It was three o'clock in the morning when Eliot Beekman reached his club in Forty-fourth Street.
"There's a telegram for you, Mr. Beekman," called out a sleepy employé, from the office. "It was left here by your clerk to-night."
In his room Beekman switched on the light and read:
Eliot Beekman, Esq.,
32 Nassau St., N. Y.
Meet us at Hotel Iroquois, Buffalo, to-morrow six P. M.
Important letter follows. Wire answer. Do not fail.
Bank Le Boeuf,
J. K. W., Cashier.
"The Bank Le Boeuf of Buffalo! Sounds good; I hope it is good," mused Beekman. "If so, another big client added to my growing list."
Without hesitation he wrote an answering telegram, stating that he would be at the Hotel Iroquois at 6 P. M. the following night, took it downstairs, and left it in the office with instruct
