The next instant he had unlocked and unbolted the massive bank door and had hurried across the walk.
“Who are you?” he demanded, kneeling beside the man. “What is the matter?”
The man tried to talk, but his voice was no more than a faint whisper.
The watchman bent his ear to the man’s lips.
Then, in a flash, the supposedly sick man’s hands shot upward and gripped the watchman about the throat.
Simultaneously with this movement, a figure darted out of a hallway to the right of the bank, sandbag in hand.
A blow on the head settled the watchman, who pitched along the walk and lay silent and still.
“Into the bank with him, quick!” hissed the well-dressed individual, and the watchman was picked up, head and heels, and hustled back into the room which he had so recently quitted.
The door was again locked and bolted.
“Not a second too soon,” went on the well-dressed man. “Down! Here comes the other watchman.”