face was flushed as he rose jerkingly from his knee and tossed a
package of crisp bank notes to the table.

"Well, there 'tis, just as it come from the Inter-provincial this
mornin'," he remarked, and picked up his cigar from the edge of the
safe.

"Look at the way he tosses it around, would you!" chuckled Podmore.
"You could buy a bunch of peanuts with that package, Frank,--a million
bags at a nickle the bag." This was a hit at Alderson's fondness for
munching peanuts, and Alderson's tenor laugh led the trio. Podmore
picked up the package and riffled the bills carelessly. "Counted it,
J. C.?"

"Fifty thousand," nodded Nickleby.

"That satchel come, Alderson? Thanks." Podmore held it up--an
ordinary cheap satchel of medium size, tan in color, imitation leather
and imitation brass catches. "I bought this, J. C., so that we'd have
one that hadn't been tampered with and that couldn't be identified as
belonging to any of us, you understand. All right, Frank, seal her up."

Alderson placed the package of bills in a large, strong blue linen
envelope which he had ready to hand, and carefully gummed down the
flap. Under the amused eye of Nickleby he proceeded to hold a stick of
gray sealing-wax in the flame of a match and to daub this additional
precaution upon the flap. The envelope was then placed in the new tan
satchel, the catches snapped and the satchel locked by Podmore, who
thereupon walked over to the President of the Interprovincial Loan &
Savings Company and handed him the key.

"That stays in your pocket till you get to Blatch Ferguson's office,
Nickleby. You hand it to Ferguson personally," and again Podmore eyed
the banker keenly. "Let him do the opening himself. All you're there
for is to see that he actually gets this money, and that ends the
transaction so far as we're concerned." He winked, and both the
gentlemen laughed as if much humor underlay the remark.

"I will now proceed to put on our little private identification mark,"
continued Podmore with an air of having thought of everything, and he
made a triangular scratch on one end of the satchel with his
pocket-knife.

"Good Lord, Pod!" exclaimed the financier with a laugh. "Is it
necessary to have all this fuss over this thing?"

"Take all the chances you like when you're by your lonesome, old man;
but you don't do it when I'm with you," said Mr. Hugh Podmore,
smilingly unperturbed by ridicule. "It's the fellow who overlooks
the