“What a bag of tricks,” the sergeant cooed, “diamond bits and dynamite cartridges and—what’s this little thing, Bat—an ark? It is. By Jove, I congratulate you on the swag.”
Spedding had recovered his nerve and strode forward. He was playing for the greatest stake in the world.
“You shall be punished for this insolence,” he stormed.
“Not at all,” said the imperturbable sergeant.
Somebody at the door spoke.
“Here’s another one, sergeant,” and pushed a queer old figure into the hall, a figure that blinked and peered from face to face.
He espied Spedding, and ran up to him almost fawning.
“The Safe Deposit—in Lombard Street,” he cackled joyously. “You see, I remembered, dear friend; and I’ve come to tell you about the book—my book, you know. My munificent patron who desired a puzzle word——”
The sergeant started forward.
“My God!” he cried, “the professor.”