He could only assume that, in some manner, the chariots had malfunctioned.
Duane Golchick and Ralph Fulcere waited nervously outside the bank door. The customers were thinning out as three o'clock closing time neared. Finally the last of the stragglers left.
Duane and Ralph entered quickly.
"Say, I'm sorry, we were just closing." The guard smiled, motioned them toward the door.
"Just walk over to the counter with us. Put your hands behind your neck and hold 'em there." Duane spoke in a half snarl, held a revolver in his hand.
The guard noticed the nervous motion of the gunbarrel. "Okay, okay, don't be nervous. Whatever you say! Just take it easy! No one's causing any trouble."
"All right, listen up!" Ralph shouted. "This is a holdup! Any screams, any alarms, and we'll take you out. And we don't care who we shoot first, so you heroes just give it a try. Open it up, babe."
He indicated the gate leading behind the counters. The clerk nervously fumbled with the catch, finally opened the gate.
Duane and Ralph cleaned out the drawers, stuffing bills into a garbage bag. "On the floor, all of you. Hands straight out, legs spread, face down. Lift a head, move a muscle, and you're history!"
The left the building quietly. No one had moved. No one was moving now. They ran for the car, parked in a nearby alley.