Mixing a little water with the brandy, he drank it off, and walked back to the office. As he again crossed the road, a man raced past him on a motor-bicycle with a huge pile of newspapers strapped behind him. The Fleet Street edition was evidently down now; he could hear the boy's shouting higher and higher up the road. He hesitated a moment; it would be rather interesting to see if "Mountain Lady" had been in the first three. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and walked on. After all, what did it matter?
There were no customers in the office. He passed through the side door into the small anteroom where the staff kept their coats and hats. From here a staircase led down into the strong-room. He knew that, if he shut the iron door below, the sound of the shot could scarcely reach the bank. It was more pleasant to die without being interrupted.
He walked downstairs quickly, and turned on the electric light that illuminated the big safe. Taking out his revolver, he tested the trigger before putting in a couple of cartridges.
Now everything was ready. There was no time to lose, for Furze would probably be sending down for him in a minute. He felt sorry for the clerk who would come to fetch him. He caught hold of the big, brass handle, and was just swinging the heavy metal slab into its place, when he heard the door open and someone running down the stairs. For an instant he faltered, and then, slipping the revolver into his pocket, pushed back the door.
"Barton! Barton!" It was Steele's voice. He rushed into the safe with a paper in his hand. "Isn't it too rotten?" he exclaimed, flinging it down on the slab.
"I should have thought you would have been pleased," answered Barton wearily.
"Oh, I am glad for your sake, of course; but, under the circumstances, it's a bit rough on me, damn it all."
"What do you mean?" Barton cried hoarsely.
"Haven't you heard?" shouted Steele. "Kildonen's' disqualified—look!" He thrust the paper into Barton's hands.
With a savage effort the latter choked back a deadly faintness that almost overpowered him, and through the dim mist that swam before his eyes, read the lines that Steele pointed out: