At last he went to the phone again. He waited for some time before it was answered, and he was compelled to make the man inside repeat frequently. The new series of stratagems was without result. Before he went again to his labours, he addressed the group. "Air getting pretty bad, I guess."
"Is it dark?" one of them asked tremulously.
"No."
Fifteen minutes more. The expert glanced at the bank's president, hesitated, struggled frenziedly for a while, and then sighed. "I'm afraid I can't get him out, sir. The combination is jammed and the time-lock is all off."
The president considered. "Do you know of anyone else who could do this?"
The man shook his head. "No. I'm supposed to be the best. I've been called out for this—maybe six times. I never missed before. You see, we make this safe—or we used to make it. And I'm a specialist. It looks serious."
The president took his cigar from his mouth. "Well, go ahead anyway—until it's too late."
Hugo stepped away from the wall. "I think I can get him out."
They turned toward him. The president looked at him coldly. "And who are you?"
Mrs. Robinson answered. "He's the new man Mr. Shayne recommended so highly."