“You will find Mr. Norcross in his private office at the end of the corridor,” said the clerk.

At the door of the office Ted found a colored messenger, who stopped him and asked his business.

“Is Mr. Norcross in his office?” asked Ted.

“Yes, sah, but he is busy,” answered the messenger.

“Well, take my card in to him, and tell him I would like to see him when he is at leisure.”

The negro went away, and in a few moments returned to say that Mr.
Norcross would be glad to see Mr. Strong presently.

While Ted waited he stood looking out of the window into the street.  The door behind him opened, and he turned.

Walking rapidly down the corridor was the man with the pointed beard, whom he had seen in the Union Station in St. Louis give the signal to the girl who had slipped the note into his pocket.

Ted stared after him.  The mystery of the note was getting thicker.  But he would try to think it out later.

He found Mr. Norcross an elderly, but active man.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Strong,” said the banker, referring to Ted’s card.

“I come to you for information concerning a recent robbery and the murder of an express messenger in an express car in St. Louis,” said Ted.

“In what capacity do you come?”

“As an officer of the government.”

“Oh, ah, rather young for such work, aren’t you?”

“Pardon, but that has nothing at all to do with it.  I am a deputy United States marshal, and have received instructions to examine into certain matters regarding the recent robberies from express trains in this part of the country.”

“I suppose you have your credentials as an officer.”

“I think I can convince those who have the right to know that I am what I profess to be.”

“Very well.  I meant no offense, but there have been so many violent things done out here, that naturally a banker desires to at least know something of his callers.  What can I do for you?”

“Did your bank make a shipment of currency to the East, last week?”

“Yes, sir, that is a well-known fact.”

“What was the amount?”

“Forty thousand dollars.  It was to meet some paper which was due in St. Louis.”

“And it was stolen from the express car?”

“Yes.  The express company has reimbursed us for it.”

“What sort of currency was it?”

“Mostly of our own issue.”

“Do you recognize this bill?”

Ted took from his pocket the counterfeit bill of the bank, and handed it to the president, who looked at it a moment and handed it back.

“Yes, that is one of the bills.  The money sent was all in that series of numbers.”

Ted picked the bill up, and put it in his pocket.

“Here, you mustn’t take that,” said the president.  “That is the property of the bank.  Give it to me.  The express company will need it for evidence.”