Mrs. Robinson glanced at the clerk and walked to the safe. “He’s ruined it!” she said in a shrill voice.

The president was behind her. He looked at the handles of the vault, which had been bent like hair-pins, and he stooped to examine the shattered bolts. Then his eyes travelled to Hugo. There was a profoundly startled expression in them.

The clerk was sobbing. Presently he stopped. “Who got me out?”

They indicated Hugo and he crossed the floor on tottering feet. “Thanks, mister,” he said piteously. “Oh, my God, what a wonderful thing to do! I—I just passed out when I saw your fingers reaching around—”

“Never mind,” Hugo interrupted. “It’s all right, buddy.”

The president touched his shoulder. “Come up to my office.” A doctor arrived. Several people left. Others stood around the demolished door.

The president was alone when Hugo entered and sat down. He was cold and he eyed Hugo coldly. “How did you do that?”

Hugo shrugged. “That’s my secret, Mr. Mills.”

“Pretty clever, I’d say.”

“Not when you know how.” Hugo was puzzled. His ancient reticence about himself was acting together with a natural modesty.

“Some new explosive?”

“Not exactly.”

“Electricity? Magnetism? Thought-waves?”

Hugo chuckled. “No. All wrong.”

“Could you do it on a modern safe?”

“I don’t know.”

President Mills rubbed his fingers on the mahogany desk. “I presume you were planning that for other purposes?”

“What!” Hugo said.

“Very well done. Very well acted. I will play up to you, Mr.—”

“Danner.”

“Danner. I’ll play up to this assumption of innocence. You have saved a man’s life. You are, of course, blushingly modest. But you have shown your hand rather clearly. Hmmm.” He smiled sardonically. “I read a book about a safe-cracker who opened a safe to get a child out—at the expense of his liberty and position—or at the hazard of them, anyhow. Maybe you have read the same book.”

“Maybe,” Hugo answered icily.

“Safe-crackers—blasters, light fingers educated to the dials, and ears attuned to the tumblers—we can cope with those things, Mr.—”

“Danner.”

“But this new stunt of yours. Well, until we find out what it is, we can’t let you go. This is business, Mr. Danner. It involves money, millions, the security of American finance, of the very nation. You will understand. Society cannot afford to permit a man like you to go at large until it has a thoroughly effective defence against you. Society must disregard your momentary sacrifice, momentary nobleness. Your process, unknown by us, constitutes a great social danger. I do not dare overlook it. I cannot disregard it even after the service you have done—even if I thought you never intended to put it to malicious use.”