“Curse you, you Dutch bungler!� said Fay, springing to the pile of books and feeling over the plate of the keister. His rubber-covered fingers found the combination-dial. This had not been injured. He whirled it rapidly four times to the right as he thrust his free hand under his vest and drew forth the stethoscope.
Working with every sense alert, he clapped the diaphragm of the delicate instrument over the dial’s
spindle and thrust the ear-pieces into his ears. He listened as he spun the dial three times to the left and then moved it notch by notch.
A click, as faint as a dropping feather, sounded. He reversed the direction of rotation and listened for a second click. It came as a rattle outside the door of the room denoted that guards were attempting to enter. A stout cry rolled through the embassy.
Fay did not hear this sound. His every effort was strained on opening the door to the keister where the cipher-key was located.
He turned the dial to the left and caught the third click. He needed now but one more to open the keister.
Slowly his fingers moved, with his brain centered on catching the faint sound. It seemed a century of time. He was on the point of giving up and repeating the entire operation when the last tumbler fell.
Dropping the stethoscope where it dangled from his ears, he grasped the handle of the door and pulled it down. It caught and then went into its socket.
Fay opened the door and reached for a match. The floor shook with the tramp of feet. The air was vibrant with menace. Fingers seemed to reach for him through the gloom. Lights flashed beyond the windows.
He scratched the match on the wall of the keister and shaded it with his palm. Inside was a dusty row of yellow envelopes, each bound with soiled ribbons. Above these, on a shelf, stood the many seals of the embassy. Over these and alone was a packet bound with string.