she approached his desk. "I have grown such a tall person during
the past four years."

The white-haired financier rose and stretched out his hand.

"You exact replica of Alexander Strong," he said laughingly, "I
couldn't forget you any more than I could forget your father.
That fine fishing trip where you proved such a grand little scout
is bright in my memory as one of my happiest vacations. Sit down
and tell me what I can do for you."

Linda sat down and told him that she was dissatisfied with the
manner in which her father's estate was being administered.

He listened very carefully to all she had to say, then he pressed
a button and gave a few words of instruction to the clerk who
answered it. When several ledgers and account books were laid
before him, with practiced hand he turned to what he wanted. The
records were not complicated. They covered a period of four
years. They showed exactly what monies had been paid into the
bank for the estate. They showed what royalties had been paid on
the books. Linda sat beside him and watched his pencil running
up and down columns, setting down a list of items, and making
everything plain. Paid cheques for household expenses I and
drygoods bills were all recorded and deducted. With narrow,
alert eyes, Linda was watching, and her brain was keenly alive.
As she realized the discrepancy between the annual revenue from
the estate and the totaling of the expenses, she had an
inspiration. Something she never before had thought of occurred
to her. She looked the banker in the eye and said very quietly: