The Yellow Face

by Fred M. White

Carrington hesitated no longer. He simply submitted himself entirely to the hands of his companion. In a dazed, fascinated kind of way he watched Anstruther insinuate a dynamite cartridge of minute proportions into the lock of the door. Then Anstruther drew Carrington back as far as possible, and the tiny fuse began to work. There was just a tiny spurt of blue flame, followed by a muffled shock, and the door fell slowly back.

"There," Anstruther cried triumphantly. "What do you think of that? Do you suppose that noise was heard outside? Now come on; let us serve them all alike."

The sound of their footsteps came to the ears of those watching in the counting house, and at frequent intervals the sullen explosions could be heard. Seymour rose to his feet, and whispered to his companions to follow. They crept cautiously along the flagged stairway until they reached the vault in which the two strong rooms were situated. A couple of electric lights gave sufficient illumination for the purpose of the amateur burglars, who were now busily engaged on the locks of the strong room. This was altogether a different business to blowing in the lock of an ordinary door, for the entrance to the strong room was secured with six bolts, all of which would have to be destroyed.

It was possible to find a secure hiding-place in the thick darkness outside the radius of the two electric lights. It was an interesting moment, and even Seymour was conscious of a sensation of excitement.

"Stand back," Anstruther said. "Everything is ready. You had better lie down on your face, as I am using six charges now instead of one. If they all go off together the thing will be accomplished to our mutual satisfaction."

The hint was not lost upon the listeners. There was a moment of intense excitement, and then came a dull, heavy roar, that seemed to shake the building almost to its foundations. Almost before the reverberations had died away, the huge door of the strong room swayed with a zigzag motion, and came smashing on the floor.

"There," Anstruther cried triumphantly. "What do you think of that, my friend? I flatter myself that that is a real workmanlike job. All you have to do now is to keep a stiff upper lip, and give the police all the information they require. Anything of value inside?"

"Not very much, I am afraid," Carrington responded. "A fair amount of old family plate, and perhaps twenty or thirty thousand pounds' worth of securities. I suppose we had better leave all that there; look better, don't you think?"

"Leave your head there," Anstruther sneered. "Now I put it to you, as a man supposed to be possessed of sense--would any thief leave a single item of value behind?"

Anstruther asked the question with a contemptuous curl of his lip. He was wiping his hands now on a piece of greasy cotton waste in which the dynamite cartridges had been wrapped to prevent contact.