"
Hodges smiled grimly, and pressed a button on his desk. "New account,"
he told the clerk.
Pete sighed heavily when the matter had been adjusted, the
identification signature slips signed, and the bank-book made out in
his name.
Hodges himself introduced Pete at the teller's window, thanked Pete
officially for patronizing the bank, and shook hands with him. "Any
time you need funds, just come in--or write to me," said Hodges.
"Good-bye, and good luck."
Pete stumbled out of the bank and down the steps to the sidewalk. He
was rich--worth twenty-four thousand dollars! But why had The Spider
left this money to him? Surely The Spider had had some other
friend--or some relative . . . ?
"Step right in," said Sheriff Owen. "You look kind of white. Feeling
shaky?"
"Some."
"We want to go to the General Hospital," said the sheriff.
Pete listened to the deliberate plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk of the white
mare's large and capable feet as the cab whirred softly along the
pavement. "I suppose you'll be takin' me over to Sanborn right soon,"
he said finally.
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