He had hoped for a side window. There was no sign of one. Nothing but the sheer, sloping adobe wall, probably of great thickness, and burned to the density of soft stone. So he came to the front of the building, and so doing, almost ran into a second guard, who paced down the front of the bank just as the first kept watch over the rear entrance. Terry flattened himself against the side wall and held his breath. But the guard had seen nothing and, turning again at the end of his beat, went back in the opposite direction, a tall, gaunt man—so much Terry could make out even in the dark, and his heel fell with the heaviness of age. Perhaps this was Lewison himself.
The moment he was turned, Terry peered around the corner at the front of the building. There were two windows, one close to his corner and one on the farther side of the door. Both were lighted, but the farther one so dimly that it was apparent the light came from one source, and that source directly behind the window nearest Terry. He ventured one long, stealthy pace, and peered into the window.
As he had suspected, the interior of the bank was one large room. Half of it was fenced off with steel bars that terminated in spikes at the top as though, ludicrously, they were meant to keep one from climbing over. Behind this steel fencing were the safes of the bank. Outside the fence at a table, with a lamp between them, two men were playing cards. And the lamplight glinted on the rusty old safe which stood a little at one side.
Certainly old Lewison was guarding his money well. The hopes of Terry
disappeared, and as Lewison was now approaching the far end of his beat,
Terry glided back into the walk between the buildings and crouched there.
He needed time and thought sadly.
As far as he could make out, the only two approaches to the bank, front and rear, were thoroughly guarded. Not only that, but once inside the bank, one would encounter the main obstacle, which consisted of two heavily armed men sitting in readiness at the table. If there were any solution to the problem, it must be found in another examination of the room.
Again the tall old man reached the end of his beat nearest Terry, turned with military precision and went back. Terry slipped out and was instantly at the window again. All was as before. One of the guards had laid down his cards to light a cigarette, and dense clouds of smoke floated above his head. That partial obscurity annoyed Terry. It seemed as if the luck were playing directly against him. However, the smoke began to clear rapidly. When it had mounted almost beyond the strongest inner circle of the lantern light, it rose with a sudden impetus, as though drawn up by an electric fan. Terry wondered at it, and squinted toward the ceiling, but the ceiling was lost in shadow.
He returned to his harborage between the two buildings for a fresh session of thought. And then his idea came to him. Only one thing could have sucked that straight upward so rapidly, and that was either a fan— which was ridiculous—or else a draught of air passing through an opening in the ceiling.
Unquestionably that was the case. Two windows, small as they were, would never serve adequately to ventilate the big single room of the bank. No doubt there was a skylight in the roof of the building and another aperture in the floor of the loft.
At least that was the supposition upon which he must act, or else not act at all. He went back as he had come, passed the rear guard easily, and found Denver unmoved beside the heads Of the horses.
"Denver," he said, "we've got to get to the roof of that bank, and the only way we can reach it is through the skylight."