"We'd better use rendrock, seeing that we can't depend on a miracle,"

called a practical citizen from behind the grille.

"Get sledge hammers and chisels," shouted somebody else, and there followed a surging of the throng, indicating that concerted action was following the suggestion.

The face of the president was twisted by grimaces which resembled spasms. "Wait! Wait a moment! There may be a way!" he called, chokingly.

"Let me out through there!"

Then Vona gave over her insane efforts to pry open the vault door with her finger nails. She ran out past Starr, who stopped to lock the grille door. The examiner was too much taken up by other matters to bother with the Prophet, who held to his place at the vault door and was intently scrutinizing something which he found of interest.

Vona forced herself through the press, in company with Starr, and was at Britt's elbow when he unlocked his office door. He tried to keep her out and called to Dorsey. But she slipped past while the door was open to admit Starr's bulky form. Inside, she turned on Britt, who was in the doorway.

"You don't dare to keep me out, Mr. Britt!" She stamped her foot. Her eyes blazed. "You don't dare!"

He blinked and entered and locked the door.

CHAPTER XV

VIA THE PRESIDENT'S PRIVATE WAY

There was a hanging lamp in Britt's office, and the president hastened to light it.

"Do you mean to say that there's another way of entering that bank vault?" Starr demanded when Britt began to twirl the k.n.o.b of a steel door that guarded his private vault. "I'm beginning to think that the fellow who wrote on that placard had this joint sized up mighty well."

Britt went on with the working of the combination. He was deeply stirred; his excitement had made his temper touchy. "I know of no reason why the president of a bank isn't allowed access to the vault."

"Perhaps not, under proper conditions, but we'll discuss that matter later, Britt. Right now I'm all-fired glad you can get in." He sneered when he added, "Perhaps a regular, time-locked vault does need a safety outlet. I may recommend it for all state banks."

Vona took her stand close to the door, trembling with pa.s.sionate eagerness. Constantly she appealed to Britt to hurry. When he finally swung open the door she leaped into the vault. He dragged her back, handling her roughly, harshly telling her that it was no place for a girl.

"I don't think it is, either," agreed Starr. "We seem to have considerable love mixed in with this situation, young woman, but this is not the time for it."

He crowded past her, at the back of Britt.

The man ahead stopped and fumbled at what seemed to be a wall of concrete; he pushed open a narrow door which fitted so closely that it had seemed to be a part of the wall.

Mr. Starr grunted.

There was a pa.s.sage at the right of the inner safe. The light from the lamp outside shed dim radiance. Britt descended a short flight of cement steps, and Starr, following groping with his feet, realized that the way led under the floor of the corridor. He was obliged to crouch almost double in order to avoid the ceiling.

There was another flight of stairs leading up to the floor level.

The two men, mounting the stairs, heard groans.

Vona, undeterred by her treatment, had followed closely on Starr's heels. She urged them to hurry, calling hysterically.

Again the man ahead fumbled at what seemed to be solid wall. Again he was able to open a door of concrete.

But Britt, when he was through the narrow door in the lead, was blocked and stopped. He lighted a match. One leaf of the double doors of the inner safe of the bank vault was flung back across the narrow pa.s.sage.

He dropped the stub of the match and pushed. The door moved only a few inches; it was opposed by something on the other side. The president lighted another match and held it while he peered over the door; there was a s.p.a.ce between the top of the door and the ceiling. "It's Vaniman,"

he reported, huskily. "He's lying against this door. I can't push it any further. He's wedged against the front of the vault."

Then Starr lighted a match. He noted that the s.p.a.ce above the door was too narrow for his bulk or Britt's.

"Go tell the guard to send in a chap that's slim and spry," the examiner commanded the girl. "We've got to boost somebody in over that door."

"I'll go. I must go. I'm bound and determined to go!" she insisted, pulling at him, trying to crowd past him.

But it was necessary for Starr and Britt to follow her to the wider s.p.a.ce below the corridor in order to allow her to pa.s.s them. They demurred, still, but she hurried back up the stairs. Britt knelt and gave her his shoulders to serve as a mounting block. She swung herself over the door, and by the light of the match that Starr held she was able to avoid stepping on the prostrate figure when she lowered herself to the floor.

The men outside in the pa.s.sage detected the odor of chloroform.

"I have lifted him," the girl cried. "Push back the door."

Britt obeyed. Then he and Starr took the unconscious cashier by shoulders and heels and carried him to the private office.

Britt's office conveniences did not include a couch; the men propped Vaniman in the desk chair and Vona crouched beside him and took his head on her shoulder.

There were no visible marks of injury. He gave off the scent of chloroform. His wrists were crossed in front of him and were secured with a noose of tape. Starr picked up shears from Britt's desk and cut the tape. "Where's your doctor? Get him in here."

"He lives in another part of the town. I didn't see him at the hall to-night," said Britt. "I'll send for him."

But Vaniman began to show such promising symptoms that the president delayed the message.

There seemed to be magic in the touch of Vona's caressing palm on the stricken man's forehead; the words she was murmuring in his ear were stirring his faculties. He opened his eyes and stared at her and at the two men, vague wonderment in his expression.

"What is it--what has happened?" he muttered.

"That's what we want to know," said Starr. "What did happen? Who got afoul of you?"

"I don't know. Who brought me in here?"

"We got you out of the bank vault and brought you here by the way of Britt's private pa.s.sage."

Vaniman seemed to find that statement unconvincing.

"He didn't know about that pa.s.sage," stammered the president. "I--I never bothered to speak about it. I suppose I ought to have told you, Frank. That cement panel is a door--with the handle on this side."

The cashier shook his head slowly, as if giving up the attempt to understand.

"I guess the panel fits so closely that you never noticed it was a door," Britt went on, with the manner of one trying to set himself right. "I meant to tell you about it."

"But what happened?" the examiner insisted.

"I don't know, sir."

"Look here! You must know something!"