.

It seemed to Spargo that there was an unending unlocking of bolts and
bars before he and his fellow-processionists came to the safe so
recently rented by the late Mr. John Marbury, now undoubtedly deceased.
And at first sight of it, he saw that it was so small an affair that it
seemed ludicrous to imagine that it could contain anything of any
importance. In fact, it looked to be no more than a plain wooden
locker, one amongst many in a small strong room: it reminded Spargo
irresistibly of the locker in which, in his school days, he had kept
his personal belongings and the jam tarts, sausage rolls, and hardbake
smuggled in from the tuck-shop. Marbury's name had been newly painted
upon it; the paint was scarcely dry. But when the wooden door--the
front door, as it were, of this temple of mystery, had been solemnly
opened by the chairman, a formidable door of steel was revealed, and
expectation still leapt in the bosoms of the beholders.

"The duplicate key, Mr. Myerst, if you please," commanded the chairman,
"the duplicate key!"

Myerst, who was fully as solemn as his principal, produced a
curious-looking key: the chairman lifted his hand as if he were about
to christen a battleship: the steel door swung slowly back. And there,
in a two-foot square cavity, lay the leather box.

It struck Spargo as they filed back to the secretary's room that the
procession became more funereal-like than ever. First walked the
chairman, abreast with the high official, who had brought the necessary
authorization from the all-powerful quarter; then came Myerst carrying
the box: followed two other gentlemen, both legal lights, charged with
watching official and police interests; Rathbury and Spargo brought up
the rear. He whispered something of his notions to the detective;
Rathbury nodded a comprehensive understanding.

"Let's hope we're going to see--something!" he said.

In the secretary's room a man waited who touched his forelock
respectfully as the heads of the procession entered. Myerst set the box
on the table: the man made a musical jingle of keys: the other members
of the procession gathered round.

"As we naturally possess no key to this box," announced the chairman in
grave tones, "it becomes our duty to employ professional assistance in
opening it. Jobson!"

He waved a hand, and the man of the keys stepped forward with alacrity.
He examined the lock of the box with a knowing eye; it was easy to see
that he was anxiou