last ever drawn by Jacob Herapath, and according
to strict law, it never ought to have been paid out by us."

"Why?" asked Professor Cox-Raythwaite.

"Because Jacob Herapath, the drawer, was dead before it was presented,"
replied the manager. "But of course we didn't know that. The cheque, you
see, was drawn on November 12th, and it was presented here as soon as
ever the doors were opened next morning and before any of us knew of
what had happened during the night, and it was accordingly honoured in
the usual way."

"The payee, of course, was known?" observed Mr. Halfpenny.

"No, he was not known, but he endorsed the cheque with name and address,
and there can be no reason whatever to doubt that it had come to him in
the ordinary way of business," replied the manager. "Quite a usual
transaction, but, as I say, noteworthy, because, as you know, a cheque
is no good after its drawer's demise."

Professor Cox-Raythwaite, who appeared to have fallen into a brown study
for a moment, suddenly looked up.

"Now I wonder if we might be permitted to see that cheque--as a
curiosity?" he said. "Can we be favoured so far?"

"Oh, certainly, certainly," answered Mr. Playbourne. "No trouble.
I'll--ah, here's your information about the other cheque--the self
cheque for five thousand."

He took a slip of paper from the clerk who just then entered, and read
it aloud.

"Here you are," he said. "'Mr. Herapath cashed cheque for L5,000
himself, at three o'clock; the money in fifty notes of L100 each,
numbered as follows'--you can take this slip, if you like," he
continued, handing the paper to Professor Cox-Raythwaite, as the
obviously most interested man of his party. "There are the numbers of
the notes. Of course, I can't see how all this throws any light on the
mystery of Herapath's murder, but perhaps you can. Sellers," he
continued, turning to the clerk, and beckoning him to look at the
pass-book, "find me the cheque referred to there, and bring it here."

The clerk returned in a few minutes with the cheque, which Mr.
Playbourne at once exhibited to his visitors.

"There you are, gentlemen," he said. "Quite a curiosity!--certainly the
last cheque ever drawn by our poor friend. There, you see, is his
well-known signature with his secret little mark which you wouldn't
detect--secret between him and us, eh!--big, bold handwriting, wasn't
it? Sad to think that that was--very likely--the last time he used a
pen!"

Professor Co