The Birmingham age-herald., 1923-03-04
N.
 SUNDAY, MARCH i, 1923

, ,
 Mentally he tabulated the various ques- tions as they had occurred to him.
 One: Was Mrs Hartopp simply foolish and hysterical woman who had imposed even upon her husband, and who had at tached herself to him out of caprice?
 Two: Was she really medium and in di- rect communication with the spirit world, in which, till now, he had had no faith?
 Three: Was she clever adventures with fraudulent designs upon him? Against that, his pocketbook and jewelry were still untouched.
 Four: What was the position of Major Hartopp?
 Five: Had he, Cray, really slept in his easy-chair and only dreamed of that brie1 period of unconsciousness?
 There was something in the early morn. ing atmosphere which encouraged common sense. One by one Mir. Cray discarded the suspicious which had grown up in his mind By the time he had reached his rooms at the Milan Court he had almost forgotten them.
  dressed and plunged into steaming bath lying there for few minutes with half closed eyes before stretching out his hand lazily for the sponge and soap.
 Suddenly he sat bolt upright, gazing at the first finger of his right hand.
 At exactly the spot where he was in the habit of grasping his fountain pen was 2 deep smudge of ink. He stared at it in blank and complete amazement, with host of new ideas rushing into his brain.
 For of one thing, MT. Cray was absolute ly and completely certain-there had been no such blemish upon his finger when he had left his box at the Albert Hall.
 Precisely two minutes after the front doors of the South Audley Street branch of a well known bank had been opened, Major Hartopp, smoking cigarette and attired in immaculate multi, descended from taxi strolled across the pavement, and after some fumbling in his pocket, produced a check, which he handed across the counter. The manager glanced at it, glanced at an other customer a few feet away, whos was apparently adding up list of deposits, and leaving the check upon the counter, moved a couple of yards to a position from which he could command view of small pri- vate office. He made sign, and moment later MT. Cray strolled in. Major Hartopp, still lounging nonchalantly against the counter, greeted him affably.
 Morning, MT. Cray Up and about early, what?"
 T might say the same of you," MT. Cray remarked pointedly.
 ''This gentleman has just presented a you," the manager announced. 'May I ask if it is in order?"
 "It most surely is not" was MT. Cray s forcible reply.
 The customer who was counting the credits, and who bore strong resemblance to the Monk of the night before, moved a little back from the counter to a position between Major Hartopp and the door. That gentleman, however, seemed in no way embarrassed.
 "Check for thousand fiddlesticksw he scoffed. Look at it again, my dear sir"
 The manager glanced at the check, frowned in puzzled manner, and stood for few seconds with the air of one stricken dumb with astonishment.
 "Have look at it yourself, MT. Cray," Major Hartopp continued. "It's a silly business, I admit, but my wife got the idea last night that you were strong unbe- iever. As you know, I'm bit that way my self, but if that's really your signature, this Christine Saboa is dangerous sort of a spook."
 The three men gazed at the check. It was clearly enough check for one sov- oroiup roodo ont to Cbr;ct;r, Cohoo ~