He flopped the check over.

"Mendenhall's indorsement.

Hi! Mr.President! Just a minute! I'm a stranger here, but if you'll let us slip in at a side door I'll trot around and fetch Mendenhall.

Need this money to-night." The president took the check from the indignant young cashier, nodded at the familiar signature with the cabalistic peculiarities which attested its authenticity, glanced indulgently at the bobbing white head in window, with difficulty suppressing a smile.
"It will not be necessary, Mr .-- Mr.Britt," he said courteously.

"Not necessary at all.