What if he should betray himself in some way? She was sure of
herself. But she was almost afraid to let him go out of her sight.
She felt a sinking sensation every time he mentioned any of the
happenings in the banking house. Could he be trusted alone not to
betray himself when the first hint of discovery of something wrong
came?

It was now near the middle of the month. It would not pay to wait
until the end. Some one of the many firms whose checks they had
forged might have its book balanced at any time now. From day to day
small amounts in cash had already been withdrawn until they were
twenty thousand dollars to the good. They planned to draw out thirty
thousand now at one time. That would give them fifty thousand,
roughly half of their forgeries.

The check was written and the office boy was started to the bank
with it. Carlton followed him at a distance, as he had on other
occasions, ready to note the first sign of trouble as the boy waited
at the teller's window. At last the boy was at the head of the line.
He had passed the check in and his satchel was lying open, with
voracious maw, on the ledge below the wicket for the greedy feeding
of stacks of bills. Why did the teller not raise the wicket and
shove out the money in a coveted pile? Carlton seemed to feel that
something was wrong. The line lengthened and those at the end of the
queue began to grow restive at the delay. One of the bank's officers
walked down and spoke to the boy.

Carlton waited no longer. The game was up. He rushed from his coign
of observation, out of the bank building, and dashed into a
telephone booth.