Forbes' suit-case might have been that of a travelling salesman
for the Kimberley, the Klondike, and the Bureau of Engraving, all
in one. Craig dumped the wealth out on the table - stacks of
genuine bills, gold coins of two realms, diamonds, pearls,
everything portable and tangible all heaped up and topped off with
piles of counterfeits awaiting the magic touch of this Midas to
turn them into real gold.
"Forbes, you have failed in your get-away," said Craig triumphantly.
"Gentlemen, you have here a master counterfeiter, surely - a master
counterfeiter of features and fingers as well as of currency."
VI
THE SAND-HOG
"Interesting story, this fight between the Five-Borough and the
Inter-River Transit," I remarked to Kennedy as I sketched out the
draft of an expose of high finance for the Sunday Star.
"Then that will interest you, also," said he, throwing a letter down
on my desk. He had just come in and was looking over his mail.
The letterhead bore the name of the Five-Borough Company. It was
from Jack Orton, one of our intimates at college, who was in charge
of the construction of a new tunnel under the river. It was brief,
as Jack's letters always were. "I have a case here at the tunnel
that I am sure will appeal to you, my own case, too," it read.
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