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.”

“Ah. And how do you propose to get him out, young man?”

Hugo stood pensively for a moment. “By methods known only to me. I am certain I can do it—but I will undertake it only if you will all leave the room.”

“Ridiculous!” Mrs. Robinson said.

The president’s mouth worked. He looked more sharply at Hugo. Then he rose. “Come on, everybody.” He spoke quietly to Hugo. “You have a nerve. How much time do you want?”

“Five minutes.”

“Only five minutes,” the president murmured as he walked from the chamber.

Hugo did not move until they had all gone. Then he locked the door behind them. He walked to the safe and rapped on it tentatively with his knuckles. He removed his coat and vest. He planted his feet against the steel sill under the door. He caught hold of the two handles, fidgeted with his elbows, drew a deep breath, and pulled. There was a resonant, metallic sound. Something gave. The edge of the seven-foot door moved outward and a miasma steamed through the aperture. Hugo changed his stance and took the door itself in his hands. His back bent. He pulled again. With a reverberating clang and a falling of broken steel it swung out. Hugo dragged the man who lay on the floor to a window that gave on a grated pit. He broke the glass with his fist. The clerk’s chest heaved violently; he panted, opened his eyes, and closed them tremblingly.

Hugo put on his coat and vest and unlocked the door. The people outside all moved toward him.

“It’s all right,” Hugo said. “He’s out.”