Interminably the hours of the rest of the day dragged on.

That night he sank limp into a chair on his return home. "A man
named Drummond was in the office to-day, my dear," he said. "Some
one in the office sent Reynolds a duplicate bill, and they know
about the check."

"Well?"

"I wonder if they suspect me?"

"If you act like that, they won't suspect. They'll arrest," she
commented sarcastically.

He had braced up again into his new self at her words. But there was
again that sinking sensation in her heart, as she realized that it
was, after all, herself on whom he depended, that it was she who had
been the will, even though he had been the intellect of their
enterprise. She could not overcome the feeling that, if only their
positions could be reversed, the thing might even yet be carried
through.

Drummond appeared again at the office the next day. There was no
concealment about him now. He said frankly that he was from the Burr
Detective Agency, whose business it was to guard the banks against
forgeries.

"The pen work, or, as we detectives call it, the penning," he
remarked, "in the case of that check is especially good. It shows
rare skill. But the pitfalls in this forgery game are so many that,