en safe. Figures were vaguely outlined. He could not tell how
many there were. Obviously, the thing to do was to cover them with the
shotgun, but light was necessary, for otherwise they might attack him in
the dark. His office was wired, and just beside the door was a switch.
He put the gun to his shoulder, holding it with one hand while he felt
for the switch. He found it, turned it, and the office sprang into
light.

Three men were beside the safe. One held a flash light, another the
mouth of a gunny sack to which the third was transferring the safe's
contents.

"Hands up!" Mr. Braden commanded in a voice which shook badly.

The three men sprang erect. Mr. Braden recognized Gavin, Gerald and
Larry French. They had made no attempt to conceal their faces. They
blinked, frowning in the sudden light.

"You infernal scoundrels!" cried Mr. Braden. "Put up your hands! Put
them up I tell you. If you make a move I'll shoot."

Mr. Braden's mistake was in reiteration. Etiquette and common sense
alike demand that instant obedience to a gun be enforced by the gun
itself. In this case the muzzle of the gun wavered and wobbled badly.

"Put that gas-pipe down!" Gavin said contemptuously.

"Put up your hands!" Mr. Braden repeated. "I'll shoot, I tell you. I
will! I--"

Quite by accident, in response to unintentional pressure of an unsteady
finger, the ten-gauge roared and the shot charge, almost solid at that
short range, passing between Gavin and Gerald struck and spattered
against the steel wall of the safe. Instantly, Gerald jerked a
six-shooter from its holster and fired and fired twice.

Mr. Braden's face assumed an expression of dumb wonder. The shotgun
sagged, exploded again, and the charge ripped the floor. He sank
downward, pitched forward, and lay still.

"Hell's fire!" cried Gavin. "What did you do that for?"

"What for?" Gerald returned. "Because I don't want to be shot, myself."

"He didn't mean to shoot. He wouldn't have shot again."

"Then he was damned careless," Gerald replied. "One barrel of a shotgun
is plenty for me. It was coming to him."

But in a rolling explosion of oaths Gavin cursed his brother for a fool.
He had spilt the beans. There would be a devil of a row. They would have
to make a get-away.

"What for--if he can't talk?" Gerald asked.

But at that moment Larry uttered an exclamation. He pointed to a window.
Against the pane below the drawn blind was a face white in the reflected
lig