He tugged at the cable, and the car stopped. He flashed his torch on the wall, and then pulled the cable again and forced the car to ascend as slowly as possible, while he looked closely at the wall.
“Here’s the scratch we made,” he said finally, and stopped the box. He pressed against the wall, and a new aperture showed. “In with you,” he instructed, “and don’t forget the loot.”
The three men stepped past him and into a tiny room that had been constructed between the walls, halfway from the first floor to the third. The Black Star followed, turned to tug at the cable and send the box on to the top of the shaft, and then closed the opening and turned to face his three men and his unconscious prisoner.
“Here we are!” he said. “Speak in whispers now, and we’ll be all right. We have some ventilation here, and you may smoke if you wish. This little room was connected with an airshaft in the building, you’ll remember. You see what forethought does? I had this constructed just for such an emergency. The percentage of chance was against it ever being needed, but I thought it better to take no chance, and you see what it has meant. That is why I always win. I prepare for every possible contingency.”
The police, at that moment, were trying it. Down below, the chief was ordering his men to hammer through the wall, since they were unable to find the spring that released the panel. Those above had been unsuccessful in their search for the spring, too, and both above and below officers were smashing at the wall with axes, trying to cut their way through.
Down in the bank, Muggs was raging.
“I knew you’d let him get away!” he cried. “I knew it!”
“We’ve got him trapped,” the chief answered.
“How do you know it? Ain’t you got some respect for the Black Star’s schemes by this time?”
“We’ll get him—you’re worrying about Verbeck, that’s all. I don’t think he’ll hurt your boss.”