Peters stuffed the money into his pocket.
"Now do your damdest!" he shouted.

"I've had one piece of law business before I died.

Good afternoon!" Rosenheim crawled back to his desk, relit his cigar and endeavored to pull himself together.

He had a half-scared, half-puzzled look on his face and once in awhile he scratched his head.
Meantime Peters repaired to the nearest hotel and ordered a dinner of steak and fried potatoes, washed down with a pint of champagne.
He then purchased a new suit of clothes, a box of collars, a few shirts, and a hat.

When he entered Mr.Banks' office an hour later the latter with difficulty recognized his visitor.
"I owe you three hundred dollars, I believe," remarked Peters, laying down the bills.
"Owe--me--What?
You didn't get that money out of Rosenheim ?" stammered Banks.
"Why not ?" asked Peters casually.