Norris (cashier of my bank) is in my n.w. bedroom sorting and handing out mail. The arrangement seems to be a temporary one. Among a pile of letters is one addressed to me but I recognize it as a monthly bank statement (from envelope, etc.) which cannot be given out until the figures have been verified at the bank. After the room has been cleared, I notice that the upper drawer of my chest of drawers is open, and lying exposed is a bank statement -- this among a mass of other business papers, bank books, etc. I look around room to see whether I had left any of my clothes lying about.