"Thank you," said Trant, tearing the sheet from the pad without giving either time to question him. He closed the office door carefully and returned with his watch in his hand.
"You can hear this tick?" He held it about eighteen inches from Gordon's ear.
"Of course," the cashier answered.
"Then move your finger, please, as long as you hear it."
The cashier began moving his finger. Trant put the watch on the desk and stepped away. For a moment the finger stopped; but when Trant spoke again the cashier nodded and moved his finger at the ticks. Almost immediately it stopped again, however; and Trant returned and took up his watch.
"I want to ask you one thing more," he said to the weary old man. "I want you to take a pencil and write upon this pad a series of numbers from one up as fast as you care to, no matter how much more rapidly I count. You are ready? Then one, two, three—" Trant counted rapidly in a clear voice up to thirty.
"1-2-3-4-10-11-12-19-20-27-28—" the cashier wrote, and handed the pad to Trant.
"Thank you. This will be all I need, except these pieces," said Trant, as he swept up the scraps which the cashier had been piecing together.
Gordon started, but said nothing. His gray, anx-
