Another person, a man, chuckled. “Not so darn. But there isn’t air in there to last three hours. Caughlin said so.”

“Honest to God?”

“Honest. An’ he’s been there more than an hour already.”

“Jeest!” There was a pregnant, pictorial silence. Someone looked at Hugo.

“What’s eatin’ you, Danner? Scared?”

His face was tense and his hands were opening and closing convulsively. “No,” he answered. “Guess I’ll go down and have a look.”

He rang for an elevator in the corridor and was carried to the basement. In the small room on which the vault opened were five or six people, among them a woman who seemed to command the situation. The men were all smoking; their attitudes were relaxed, their voices hushed.

One repeated nervously: “Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ.”

“That won’t help, Mr. Quail. I’ve sent for the expert and he will probably have the safe open in a short time.”

“Blowtorches?” the swearing man asked abruptly.

“Absurd. He would cook before he was out. And three feet of steel and then two feet more.”

“Nitroglycerin?”

“And make jelly out of him?” The woman tapped her finger-nails with her glasses.

Another arrival, who carried a small satchel, talked with her in an undertone and then took off his coat. He went first to a telephone on the wall and said: “Gi’ me the inside of the vault. Hello.... Hello? You there? Are you all right?... Try that combination again.” The safe-expert held the wire and waited. Not even the faintest sounds of the attempt were audible in the front room. “Hello? You tried it?... Well, see if those numbers are in this order.” He repeated a series of complicated directions. Finally he hung up. “Says it’s getting pretty stuffy in there. Says he’s lying down on the floor.”

People came and went. The president himself walked in calmly and occupied a chair. He lit a cigar, puffed on it, and stared with ruminative eyes at the shiny mechanism on the front of the safe.

“We are doing everything possible,” the woman said to him crisply.

“Of course,” he nodded. “I called up the insurance company. We’re amply covered.” A pause. “Mrs. Robinson, post one of the guards to keep people from running in and out of here. There are enough around already.”

No one had given Hugo any attention. He stood quietly in the background. The expert worked and all eyes were on him. Occasionally he muttered to himself. The hands of an electric clock moved along in audible jerks. Nearly an hour passed and the room had become hazy with tobacco smoke. The man working on the safe was moist with perspiration. His blue shirt was a darker blue around the armpits. He lit a cigarette, set it down, whirled the dials again, lit another cigarette while the first one burned a chair arm, and threw a crumpled, empty package on the floor.