He rose and the rest followed as he went into
Whitney's library.
He switched on the lights. There in a corner back of the desk
stood a safe. Somehow or other it seemed to defy us, even though
its master was gone. I looked at it a moment. It was a most
powerful affair, companion to that in the office of which Whitney
was so proud, built of layer on layer of chrome steel, with a door
that was air tight and soup-proof, bidding defiance to all yeggmen
and petermen.
Lockwood fingered the combination hopelessly. There were some
millions of combinations and permutations that only a
mathematician could calculate. Only one was any good. That one was
locked in the mind of the man who now seemed to baffle us as did
his strong-box.
I placed my hand on the cold, defiant surface. It would take hours
to drill a safe like that, and even then it might turn the points
of the drills. Explosives might sooner wreck the house and bring
it down over the head of the man who attacked this monster.
"What can we do?" asked Senora de Moche, seeming to mock us, as
though the safe itself were an inhuman thing that blocked our
path.
"Do?" repeated Kennedy decisively, "I'll show you what we can do.
If Lockwood will drive me down to the railroad station in his car,
I'll show you something that looks like action.
Pages:
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275