tried to open it--"

"Verily, ye were!"

The voice was deep and solemn. The sound jumped the four persons in
Britt's office. Framed in the door of Britt's vault was Prophet Elias.

"How did you get in here?" thundered "Foghorn Fremont," first to get his
voice.

"Not by smiting with the rod of Moses," returned the Prophet,
considerable ire in his tone. "I pulled open the door of the bank vault
and walked in."

"Britt, you'd better put up a sign of 'Lunatic Avenue' over that passage
and invite a general parade through," barked Starr. "I've had plenty of
nightmares in my life, but never anything to equal this one, take it by
and large!"

It was evident from President Britt's countenance that a great many
emotions were struggling in him; but the prevailing expression--the one
which seemed to embrace all the modifications of his emotions--indicated
that he felt thoroughly sick. He gazed at the open door of his vault and
looked as a man might appear after realizing that the presentation of a
wooden popgun had made him turn over his pocketbook to a robber. "Walked
in? _Walked_ in?" he reiterated.

The stress of the occasion seemed to have made the Prophet less
incoherent than was his wont; or perhaps he found no texts to fit this
situation. "I did not dive through your solid steel, Pharaoh! I used my
eyes, after I had used my ears. Here!" His fists had been doubled. He
unclasped his hands and held them forward. In each palm was one of the
metal disks. "Your bank-vault door was trigged with these--wedged in the
crack of the outer flange. I saw, I pulled hard on the big handle--and
here I am!"

"But the bolts--" Starr stopped, trying to remember about the bolts.

"The bolts were not shot. You were trying to push back what had already
been pushed."

Starr began to scratch the back of his head, in the process tipping his
hat low over his eyes. He turned those eyes on Vaniman. "Speaking of
pushing--of being able to push--" But the examiner did not allow himself
to go any farther at that time. "Vaniman," he blurted, after a few
moments of meditation, "I want you to volunteer to do something--of your
own free will, understand!"

Vaniman, pallid again, was fully aware of the effect of this new
revelation on his position, already more than questionable. "I'll follow
any suggestion, of my own free will, sir."

"We'd better arrange to have a private talk to-night before we go to
sleep, and another talk when we wake up. I