"What the hell does this mean?" yelled Snobbcraft at the mute men prone before them. Buggerie quickly removed the gags.
They had been suddenly set upon, the head watchman explained, about an hour before, just after Dr. Buggerie left, by a crowd of gunmen who had blackjacked them into unconsciousness and carried them into the building. The watchman displayed the lumps on their heads as evidence and looked quite aggrieved. Not one of them could remember what transpired after the sleep-producing buffet.
"The vault!" shrilled Buggerie. "Let's have a look at the vault."
Down the stairs they rushed, Buggerie wheezing in the lead, Snobbcraft following and the six tousled watchmen bringing up the rear. The lights in the basement were still burning brightly. The doors of the vault were open, sagging on their hinges. There was a litter of trash in front of the vault. They all clustered around the opening and peered inside. The vault was absolutely empty.
"My God!" exclaimed Snobbcraft and Buggerie in unison, turning two shades paler.
For a second or two they just gazed at each other. Then suddenly Buggerie smiled.
"That stuff won't do them any good," he remarked triumphantly.
"Why not?" demanded Snobbcraft, in his tone a mixture of eagerness, hope and doubt.
"Well, it will take them as long to get anything out of that mass of cards as it took our staff, and by that time you and Givens will be elected and no one will dare publish anything like that," the statistician explained. "I have in my possession the only summary—those papers I showed you at your house. As long as I've got that document and they haven't, we're all right!" he grinned in obese joy.
"That sounds good," sighed Snobbcraft, contentedly. "By the way, where is that summary?"