Duffy said, “It’s on the first floor.”
They walked quietly forward, Duffy a little ahead, the other two on either side of him, a few steps in the rear. Duffy held a powerful flash directed on the floor. He kept the beam down, but the reflection lit up the frosted panelled doors. At the end of the corridor Duffy read, “Morgan Navigation Trust Co.”
“Here,” he said.
Schultz examined the lock, bent over it, then stepped back. He said in a low voice, “Go ahead.”
Duffy pulled the Colt from his waist-band and gently opened the door. Then he walked in.
The office was big. Steel files lined the walls. There were three large flat-topped desks. Three typists’ desks, holding typewriters. The centre desk had a number of telephones.
Duffy said, “Morgan’s room is over there, I guess.”
He wandered over to a door at the far end of the office and went through. The room was smaller than the outer office, but it was more luxurious.
Duffy went round the desk and sat down. He tried the drawers, but they were all locked. He looked over at Gilroy. “I guess we won’t disturb anything. Morgan might tumble. I’ll just plant the notes and we’ll blow.”
Schultz said, “Maybe there’s a heap of dough in this joint.” He said it wistfully.