"Ha! ha! That's the time we caught you like a rat in a trap!" sang out the Englishman in triumph.
"Sure it was our man?" queried his companion. "I didn't get a very good look."
"Yes, it was our man, the bloody villain!"
"He's a slick one!"
"So he is—but he'll not get away again. Go and tell the others that it is all right—that we have him," went on Matlock Styles.
"You are sure he can't get out of there?"
"Not in a hundred years! He'd have to blast his way out to do it."
"Then it's all right," returned the other man, and walked away up the flight of stone steps.
"Now, then, you have come to the end of your rope, you bloomin', bloody rascal!" cried Matlock Styles, when he was left alone in front of the vault. "You'll not get out of there until I open the door."
"Styles, supposing we talk this matter over?" suggested Adam Adams, as calmly as he could.