At the bottom of the shaft, they ran the smoothly moving table to the final barrier. Here, Froman turned the knob, raising the steel door.
It took time to work the table and the box down the steps into Froman’s dungeon. When the job had been accomplished, Froman released the curtain.
Cut off from all the world, behind a barrier of steel, the two plotters ripped at the cover of the box. Off came the lid to reveal the glittering mass of shining, sparkling jewels!
“It is ours!” cried Noyes, exulting.
Froman nodded.
“Ours — and the Romanoffs,” he said.
Froman smiled shrewdly as he spoke. How much of this wealth would go to its one-time owners was indeed a dubious question.
Senov and many others had given up their lives, to restore the wealth of the Romanoffs, but these master plotters were forgetful of such facts. They were thinking only of their own sweet gain.
Only one man had been promised a definite price. That man was dead. David Tholbin had paid for his desire to possess a quarter of a million dollars.
Froman and Noyes seemed satisfied by the size of the pelf that lay before them. They stared in delight.