"And you have earned your X," said Frank, springing out.
It was in the First National Bank of Carson, between nine and ten o'clock of the day following Frank's arrival in the city.
Frank had found it difficult to get either of the new fifty-dollar bills changed, and so he stepped into the bank and asked if he could be favored there.
The bill had been scrutinized closely, the cashier had examined it beneath a magnifying glass, after which he questioned the boy concerning his manner of obtaining the paper, and Frank had told the truth fully and without hesitation. Then the boy had been called into a private room, and the cashier had declared the bill counterfeit.
Frank had been prepared for such an assertion by what went before it, and he immediately opened his pocketbook and produced the other bill which he had received of Isa Isban.
"Please look at this, and see if it is also counterfeit," he asked, with remarkable coolness.
"It is a mate for the first one. Both are 'queer.' My boy, this is bad stuff to be carrying around. It is liable to bring you into no end of trouble."
As he said this he was regarding Frank's face with a searching stare, as if seeking to discover if the lad were honest or crooked.
Frank knew he was under suspicion, and he bore himself as quietly as possible.
"This is the first intimation I have received that the bills are bad," declared the lad. "I received them as I have explained, and I have tried in several places, this morning, to get one of them broken, but did not succeed. I finally came here."
The cashier's brows lowered. He partially closed his eyes, and regarded the boy steadily. Then he began once more to ask questions.
Frank knew he was in an unfortunate situation, and he decided the best thing he could do was to answer every question truthfully, which he did.
It happened there was not much business going on in the bank. The paying teller and the receiving teller listened to the questions and answers. The receiving teller was a young man, and his face wore a sneering look of incredulity. He regarded Frank with open doubt, and, once or twice, muttered, "Ridiculous!" "Nonsense!" "A clever lie!" or something of the sort.
The face of the paying teller was calm and unexpressive. It seemed that he had not determined in his own mind if the boy were telling the truth. He was listening to hear everything before he decided.