"You have matches, Mr. Munn?" the professor asked in the very faintest of audible tones.
I nodded.
"You must be very careful to keep to the street until you reach the country," the professor went on. "If you should make a misstep and wreck a block of houses the disaster would be irretrievable."
"I will strike matches and light my way until I get well into the hills," said I.
"Just what I should have suggested," said he. "Good-by, Mr. Munn. Fail not to return with the exchequer as soon as the king of Baigol has secured the Bolla. Meantime I shall hope to get the car in readiness to speed our departure."
We struck hands as men will when confronted by an issue of life and death. Then I stepped into the street, bent over the imperial exchequer, and wrenched it from its foundations.
It was a well-constructed building, and, although its contents jingled like a rattle box when I took it under my arm, it did not give way in any part.
Striking a match on the roof of the exchequer, I lighted my way down the street, picking my steps with care and caution.
CHAPTER XVI.
HOW ILL-LUCK OVERTOOK ME.