er they do their work the longer
time they will have for their escape. We are at present, doctor--as no
doubt you have divined--in the cellar of the city branch of one of the
principal London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors,
and he will explain to you that there are reasons why the more daring
criminals of London should take a considerable interest in this cellar
at present."

"It is our French gold," whispered the director. "We have had several
warnings that an attempt might be made upon it."

"Your French gold?"

"Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources, and
borrowed, for that purpose, thirty thousand napoleons from the Bank of
France. It has become known that we have never had occasion to unpack
the money, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon
which I sit contains two thousand napoleons packed between layers of
lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much larger at present than is
usually kept in a single branch office, and the directors have had
misgivings upon the subject."

"Which were very well justified," observed Holmes. "And now it is time
that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an hour matters
will come to a head. In the meantime, Mr. Merryweather, we must put the
screen over that dark lantern."

"And sit in the dark?"

"I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and I
thought that, as we were a _partie carree_, you might have your rubber
after all. But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so far that
we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must
choose our positions. These are daring men, and, though we shall take
them at a disadvantage, they may do us some harm, unless we are careful.
I shall stand behind this crate, and do you conceal yourself behind
those. Then, when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If they
fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting them down."

I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind
which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern,
and left us in pitch darkness--such an absolute darkness as I have never
before experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that
the light was still there, ready to flash out at a moment's notice. To
me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was
something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold,
dank air o