"We've some work to do before Butcher arrives," announced Major. "Spread out all these stacks that stay. The old vault looks a bit empty, because we've been crowding it. What's gone is forgotten. We're starting new, from now on."
Ferret nodded. The men began their labors. They stepped in and out of the vault. Finally, Major walked back a few paces, and Ferret stood leaning against the outside of the vault.
"A sweet job," declared Major. "Shake, Ferret. We're in the clear!"
As the men clasped hands in silence, a low laugh came from a short distance away. Both turned in alarm. They stood as though petrified. Then they raised their hands slowly and mechanically. Leaning upon the balustrade was a figure clad in black. He seemed like a projection of the darkness from the stairway. He was poised, with elbows resting on the rail, and his hands — also garbed in black — held two automatics. He had his enemies covered.
The identity of this unexpected foe was no matter of doubt to Major and Ferret. They knew that the man was The Shadow. They stared sullenly at their captor and sought to pierce the shadowy mask of blackness that lay beneath the brim of his slouch hat. But their effort was of no avail.
"Maurice Exton and Joel Hawkins," came a mocking voice, that whispered its words.
"Otherwise known as Major and Ferret."
The men glowered at the mention of their secret names. Major's face was defiant; Ferret's was venomous. Neither made a move. They were trapped.
"One more is needed," declared The Shadow tauntingly. "George Ellsworth — better known as Butcher will soon be here. Then we shall have the trio. The cashier and his two tellers.
"The vault requires new contents. It shall have them. But three will be better than two."