Dinah Brand
At the First National Bank I got hold of an assistant cashier named Albury, a nice-looking blond youngster of twenty-five or so.
“I certified the check for Willsson,” he said after I had explained what I was up to. “It was drawn to the order of Dinah Brand—$5,000.”
“Know who she is?”
“Oh, yes! I know her.”
“Mind telling me what you know about her?”
“Not at all. I’d be glad to, but I’m already eight minutes overdue at a meeting with—”
“Can you have dinner with me this evening and give it to me then?”
“That’ll be fine,” he said.