She looked dubious. She was not at all willing to regard anyone as competent who was so foolish as to lock himself into a bank vault—and her with him.
Florence was still struggling through her sea of mixed thoughts when the telephone rang. It was Chief Weston and he bellowed almost loud enough to hear through the yards of concrete and steel that separated us.
"Schnell—what in the bloody hell have you done?"
"I've shut the vault," I said.
"You'll die!"
"I doubt it."
"How do you propose to get out?" he demanded with heavy sarcasm.
"Just ask Edward Hazlett Wood—the Psi-man in our midst."
"Schnell, if you get out of there alive, I'm going to ask for your resig—"
"If I get out of here alive, you'll need every faculty I have to keep our Psi-man jugged for good."