Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 153: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BELOW THE he whispered finally. “That ought to bring us near the vault.” So to the right we went. In the distance I saw a dim light, the effect being like a square cloud of white smoke in a fog. As we neared it, I discovered that it came from a window which apparently opened on a courtyard. We looked out. “ What in thunder?” ejaculated Bill. On the other side of the narrow courtyard was a barred window, be- yond which was the big steel vault door of ‘the bank with the light above it. “We got in the wrong building,” groaned Bill. ‘“ There must have been another passway farther up the street.” “Well, the robber is still there. He’s—” Bill interrupted with an exclama- tion of disgust. He had made a dis- covery simultaneously with me. The ‘robber’ was nothing but a shadow cast by a piece of canvas or something like that hanging from a projecting bar under the light. “ Ain’t that rotten luck?’ groaned Bill. “ Let’s get out of here,” I suggested. “T’d hate like blazes to be caught prowling around in this place at three o’clock in the morning.” Bill clutched me nervously. “ Did you hear that?” he demanded. “1 heard it,” I whispered hoarsely. In the distance had come the sound of a door being slammed and bolted. “Somebody is coming,” I groaned. A flickering light came from the en- trance to the long corridor. In less than a minute the person with the light would appear around the corner. There was the sound of a deep base voice humming “Bye, Bye, Black- bird.” e “It’s the watchman,” whispered Bill. “He probably stepped outside for a few minutes—that’s how it was we found the door unlocked.” “ Wonder if he’ll get a thousand for DEAD LINE, 143 the two of us or a thousand for each,” I ventured speculatively. “ Dead or alive,” I added solemnly. “This is no joke,” muttered Bill. *“ T’ll say it isn’t,” I agreed. We watched with the fascination of terror as the flickering light grew stronger and stronger. Occasionally it would stop for an instant and there would be the sound of a door opening and closing again. The watchman ap- parently was a conscientious one in making his tour of inspection. “Tf he can open the doors, we can,” whispered Bill. He fumbled hastily about in the darkness, and the next instant I real- ized that he had opened a door almost at our elbows. “Come on.” He pulled my coat sleeve. I followed him inside. He cautiously closed the door again. “Quick! Got a match?” Bill’s brains were beginning to hit on all six cylin- ders once more. “ Maybe we can get a glimpse of the layout here before the watchman shows up. We’ve got to hide.”’ Fortunately I had some matches. I struck one and held it above my head. The light: flickered and for an instant I was afraid it was going out. Then it took renewed life, and by the dim light we saw that we were in a small room. It appeared extremely untidy. There was a desk, an easy chair, and some small odds and ends—nothing large enough to serve as places of conceal- ment for two full-grown men like Bill and me. There was one small window, so high up that one would need a steplad- der to reach it. All this we hastily took in. Then the match flickered and again we were in complete dark- ness. “Tt’s the watchman’s office,” I groaned. “It’s going to be mighty handy for him to call the coroner after he gets through with us. The tele- phone was right over there in the cor- EOPMIC LOO <S (G (E@)