And then the manager of Jones & Co. arrived, a gentleman the personification of dignity generally, but at present the personification of excitement and dread. He stammered when he talked, and threw up his hands in horror when he saw his establishment crowded with police, and it took the chief some minutes to assure him that his property was safe and the would-be thief locked in the vault.
He advanced to the door and prepared to work the combination. His nervousness caused him to make a mistake at first, but finally he nodded that all that was necessary to open the door was to turn the handle.
The manager retreated then, to hide behind a show case in fear of flying bullets.
“Might as well come out, Mr. Black Star, and take your medicine!” Riley cried “We’ve got twenty men here, with guns pointing at that door. You make a hostile move when we open it, and you’ll see your finish!”
He nodded to the police, twisted the handle, and threw the door open.
Light flooded the interior of the vault. Half a dozen officers, Riley at their head, rushed.
A cry of consternation came from the detective. Verbeck and Muggs crowded through to look inside.
On the floor of the vault were empty trays that had held jewels. Among them were empty chamois bags. Mountings of inferior value were scattered about. But no master criminal stood before them, ready for battle, or in token of surrender!
“Gone!” Muggs cried.
“But he can’t be gone!” Riley shrieked. “We saw him step into the vault! We came right up, never taking our eyes from the door! Muggs slammed the door and twisted the combination. There’s no way in or out except the door!”