THE QUEER BANK BILL.
It was the afternoon of the day the robbery of the mill was discovered.
Ned, after his conference with his two chums, had gone down to his
father’s store. He wanted to talk to Mr. Slade about the prospects of
getting a motor-cycle. For, now that Jerry was about to get one, the
desire on Ned’s part was all the stronger.
While standing in the front of the big department establishment his
father owned Ned was surprised to see, passing on the other side of the
street, Noddy Nixon and Paul Banner.
“That’s queer,” commented Ned. “I didn’t know Noddy and Paul were as
chummy as that. They didn’t used to have much use for each other.”
Then the idea suddenly came to him, that here was the very opportunity
he desired. He could follow Noddy and Paul, and see if he might learn
anything.
The bully and the dude, as Ned could observe from time to time, did not
seem to be exactly in accord. At times they would almost come to a
halt, and dispute over something. Noddy seemed to be objecting to some
course of action proposed by Paul.
“They must be going to the old wind mill,” commented Ned, as he saw
Noddy and Paul turn down a street that led to an old-fashioned, and
deserted flour mill, that, in by-gone days, had been operated by wind
power. The mill was a good distance from the edge of the town, in the
centre of a big field.
Sure enough that was the destination of the two young men. Ned was as
close after them as he dared to go. There was little risk of his being
noticed while he was on the streets, but, after leaving them there was
greater danger of detection for the trailer.
“However,” argued Ned, “as long as I know where they are going, I don’t
need to keep so close after them. I can wait until they get to the mill,
and then I can go there too. By coming up from the back, where there are
no windows, which I can do by going through Hedges’s Lane, they can’t
see me.”
He approached the mill rapidly from the rear. As he came within hearing
distance he could distinguish voices. And they seemed to be disputing.
The ancient establishment was full of cracks and broken places, and the
noise from inside passed out freely. Nearer and nearer hurried Ned. At
last he reached the broad platform that ran all around the base of the
mill. He proceeded cautiously, taking care not to step in the big holes
that yawned here and there. He crept around to a place near the front
entrance to the old structure. Fortunately here he found where a board
had come loose, so that it afforded a good listening place.
“I don’t see what in the world you wanted to bring me all the way out to
this lonely place for, my dear chap,” Paul was saying.
“It’s this way,” Noddy was explaining. “I told you I was short of cash,
and had to ask you to wait until to-day to pay the bet I made with you.”
“But, my dear fellow,” “Polly” expostulated, “why couldn’t you pay me up
there in town, just as well?”
“To tell you the truth,” said Noddy, in a tone that would indicate to
any one who knew him that he was going to do just the opposite, “I
didn’t want any one to see me paying you.”
“And why not, pray, my dear chap?”
“Because I owe quite a few bets,” replied Noddy. “I am going to
square them all up in a day or so, but if those I owe saw me paying
you they would all come down on me at once and I would be financially
embarrassed. I suppose you’re ready to take the money now?”
“Ready, nay, anxious, my dear chap.”
“Well, I had a little trouble in getting it,” went on Noddy, not going
into particulars, however. “And here it is. Just one hundred dollars,
isn’t it?”
“Correct, my dear boy.”
“Ten fives are fifty,” said Noddy, counting out some bills, “and twenty
is seventy. Twenty more is ninety, and that ten makes just the hundred.”
“Hold on here!” exclaimed Paul, when Noddy had come to the end of his
counting. “This bill doesn’t look just right.”
“Which bill?”
“This last ten dollar one. I never saw one like it.”
“Nonsense, that’s all right,” responded Noddy. “Let’s see it.”
Paul passed it back.
“Why, certainly it’s good,” Noddy said. “It’s a state bank bill, instead
of a national one, that’s all. Issued by the Merchants’ Bank of Boston.”
“But what’s that queer red mark on it?”
Noddy examined it more closely. Then he laughed.
“Some one has gone to the trouble of marking his initials on it in red
ink,” he said. “Probably for identification, or to serve as a mark.
Maybe it was once used as a marked bill,” and Noddy gave a short laugh.
“See, there are the letters H. R. C.”
“I guess you’re right,” agreed Paul. “Well, hand it over. I must be
going. Sorry you lost the bet, but losers must pay, you know.”
“Oh, I’m not squealing,” retorted Noddy.
“Guess I’ll be going,” went on Paul. “Beastly long walk back to town.”
Ned was glad to hear the sound of departing footsteps. He kept in hiding
for five minutes, however, fearing Noddy might return. At the end of
that time he ventured out. He saw Noddy and Paul almost across the field
and knew he was safe.
Ned hurried back to town, going the same roundabout path he had taken in
coming. He hastened to Jerry’s house and told him what had taken place,
and the two hunted up Bob and related the events to him.
“Things are getting warm,” commented Bob.
“They are that,” replied Jerry.
“I wonder if one of us couldn’t get a talk with ‘Polly’ Banner?”
suggested Jerry. “We might manage to get talking about queer bills, and
‘Polly’ would show us the one he had.”
“Suppose you try that,” Bob said.
“I’m willing,” Jerry responded. “I’ll take a walk down town now, and
maybe I’ll meet him. You wait until I come back.”
Jerry resolved to first visit the club house of the athletic
organization, as he knew Paul spent a good deal of his time there. Sure
enough, he found Paul sitting at ease in a comfortable chair, smoking a
perfumed cigarette and reading a book.
“I say, Paul,” said Jerry, “you’re not interested in old coins are you?”
“Old coins? No, my dear chap; why should I be interested in old coins?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was just wondering. Some people collect old coins,
and some stamps. I favor stamps, myself.”
“Now that you speak of it,” said Paul, “I remember I have an old bill
about me. It’s rather odd. Maybe you’d be interested in it.”
“Let’s see,” replied Jerry, thanking his stars that he was about to
accomplish his purpose so easily.
Paul drew out the odd ten dollar note Noddy had given him. Just as Ned
had reported, it was an old style state bank note. And, in one of the
blank spaces on the reverse side some one had made a very elaborate
monogram of the initials H. R. C.
“Quite a curiosity,” observed Jerry, passing the bill back.
“I think so,” said Paul, puffing out thick clouds of smoke from his
Egyptian cigarette. “But I suppose there is no premium on it.”
“There might be,” replied Jerry in as careless a tone as he could
assume. “If I were you I’d save it and see.”
“I will,” said Paul. “I’ll place it in the very back part of my wallet,
and I won’t spend it until I see a coin catalog. That’s an easy way to
make money.”
“Where did you get the bill?” asked Jerry. “Perhaps you can get more.”
“Noddy Nixon gave it to me,” responded Paul. “I wasn’t going to take it
at first, but he told me it was good.”
“Oh, I reckon it’s good enough,” answered Jerry. “Well, I guess I’ll be
traveling. Good-bye, Paul.”
“Good afternoon, my dear chap,” answered Paul, lighting another
cigarette.
“I’ll not forget how that bill looks,” said Jerry to himself, as he
sought his two chums and told them what had taken place between Paul and
himself.