The key the men possessed admitted
them at once and the other portmanteau was opened,
ready for use a use which soon became plain.
“Think it’ll be all right
this time?” said Roach, who was in an intense
state of excitement.
“Dunno till I try,” was
the reply. “Light up and look sharp.”
Roach turned to the second portmanteau,
which stood inside the door, and took out a dark lantern.
Then striking a match, he lit it, and in obedience
to a word from his young companion, he held up the
cover of the iron door key-hole with one hand, and
directed the full glare of the bull’s-eye on
the opening with the other.
Arthur had not been idle. Hastily
doubling his overcoat, he made of it a pad to kneel
upon, and then taking a bright new key from out of
a piece of tissue paper, he began to try if it would
fit.
“All right,” he whispered, “it goes
splendidly.”
“Well done,” panted Roach. “But
be quick.”
“Quick be blowed! Don’t
you be so jolly nervous; there’s no one to interrupt
us now.”
“Well, turn the key.”
“Won’t turn sticks. Oil.”
Roach handed a little oil tin from
the portmanteau, the key was withdrawn and lubricated
and once more thrust in, to evidently act upon a part
of the mechanism of the great lock, but that was all.
“Bah!” ejaculated Arthur.
“I know the beggar. It’s one of
that sort you see at the safe shops. When you
turn the key you shoot bolts, top, bottom and both
sides. It nearly does. He made it quite
to the wax pattern, and it only wants a touch or two.
Here, give us the file.”
“Stop a minute.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I want to see if old Mrs Barron’s safe.”
“Look alive then. No, no; give me the
file first.”
The tool was handed and the active
young fellow held the key close to the light and began
filing away where it seemed to him the wards of the
key wanted opening; and he was still busy when Roach
returned. “She’s all right,”
he panted, his breath coming short as if he had been
running.
“Oh yes, she won’t get
clear of those knots an old cat! I
know. You take it easy, old man; we’re
as safe as safe.”
“But suppose the guv’nors come back from
Paris, my dear boy?”
“Won’t be back for a fortnight.
You know as well as I do. Lor’ ‘a’
mussy! on’y think of our taking up a game like
this, old man!”
“It’s awful it’s awful,
Orthur.”
“Yah! we can’t help it.
How were we to know that everything we backed would
go wrong and leave us in such a hole?” said Arthur,
as he filed away.
“But it seems like burglary,” whispered
the butler.
“Burglary be blowed! Look
here, if you’re going to whine I shall cut it,
and my stick too, and you may face it out with the
guv’nors. What are you going to say when
they ask after that gold centre-piece, and the rest
of the plate you’ve lent my uncle?”
“We’ve lent my uncle!” said the
butler, reproachfully.
“Oh, well, we then. I’m
ready to take my share. It was their fault,
and we’re driven to this to get money to take
out all you’ve pledged.”
“We’ve pledged.”
“We be hanged! You did
the pledging, but I don’t want to back out of
it. I’m going to stand by you. Only,
you see, circumstances are against us, old man.
We meant to come quietly and get enough out of here
to square us and make us able to make a fresh start
on our own hook I’m sick of their
tips but as soon as we come to do it quietly,
meaning to sleep here for the night, that old cat cuts
up rough, and we have to quiet her. Consequence
is, old man, we’ve got to go the whole thing
and make ourselves rich men all at once. Don’t
matter. Just as well be hung for a sheep as
a lamb, so I mean to make it two sheep if I can two
sheep a-piece, old chap. There, that ought to
do it now.”
He ceased filing and applied the key
again, to find that he could turn it a little more.
“Almost,” he said. “Oil again.”
But the fresh oil sent it no farther,
and the butler wiped his dripping brow and ejaculated
“Tut-tut-tut-tut!”
“Look here, old chap, if you
can do it better come and try yourself,” cried
Arthur in an ill-used tone.
“No, no, my dear boy, I can’t.
You are cleverer at such things than I am, but it’s
such fidgeting work to stand here holding the light
and doing nothing.”
“Never mind, it’s worth
it,” said Arthur, laughing. “Think
of the pearls and diamonds in here, old fellow.
Now for another try. We shall be as rich as
Rothschilds when we’ve done, and across
the water before they can put a hand upon us.
Bah! Blister the key! It’s as near
as near. But I’ll do it, if I try till
to-morrow morning. Here, go and see how the
old girl’s getting on. Got your keys?”
“Yes, my boy, but they are no good for this.”
“Pah! who said they were?
They’re good for a bottle of wine, though,
ain’t they?”
“Oh yes yes!”
“Then bring one with the cork
out, and never mind a glass; and don’t stop
to decant it, old chap, for I want a drink horrid bad.
This is warm work.”
The butler went away on tip-toe.
As he walked along the passage he heard the sharp
grating of the file, and shivered with dread.
But upon reaching the pantry he felt relieved, for
the housekeeper seemed to be asleep.
Not content with this, Roach went
up to the hall and listened. But all was perfectly
still in the great solemn mansion, and he went down
again, to be conscious of the scrap, scrap of the
file, before he reached the pantry, where the old
lady still lay unmoved.
Hastily getting a bottle of wine from
the cupboard, and uncorking it, he went back, to find
Arthur still filing away.
“Oh, there you are then,”
he grumbled. “I was just a-coming to see
if you were finishing the bottle all to your own cheek.
Here, give us hold.”
He took a deep draught, and recommenced
filing with renewed vigour for some minutes.
“Now,” he said, “this
is the last time of trying. If it won’t
do it we must do the other thing.”
He tried the key, and it turned half-way,
but it was forced upon them that there was something
wanting. The key did not touch some portion of
the ingeniously-made lock, and the young man thrust
it in his pocket.
“Better have tried the hammering at first,”
he said.
“No, no! The noise,” cried Roach.
“Bah! Who’s going
to take any notice of a bit of knocking?” said
the young man, contemptuously. “The sound
can’t reach them there.”
“But suppose a policeman heard it as he passed?”
“Well, he’d hear it and
say to himself, `They’ve got the workpeople
in.’”
“But ”
“Oh, blow your buts, old
man! Did the police come to see what was the
matter when the men took out the kitchener and put
in a new one?”
“No, but ”
“But you’re in a stew.
That’s what’s the matter. Give us
hold. Thinnest wedge, and the hammer, and you
hold the light. That piece of leather will stop
the sound.”
The butler sighed, but obeyed his
companion, handing him a steel wedge with an edge
as fine as the blade of a knife. Then he held
the light close while his companion gently tapped
it in between the door and frame.
Another followed, and another quite
a dozen, of increasing sizes, having been brought;
and the leather-covered hammer deadened the sound
greatly, while the crack grew larger, and it seemed
pretty certain that the steel wedges would sooner
or later force open the door.
“See this?” said the operator, triumphantly.
“Oh yes, I see, but I’m in a bath o’
perspiration.”
“With doing nothing but hold
a candle!” said Arthur, with a chuckle, as he
drove in another wedge as far as it would go and released
two more thinner ones. “Now I’m
going to have a moment’s rest and a drink while
you go and see how dear old Mrs Barron is. Whistle
if you want help.”
The butler went off, and the young
man drank and examined the progress he had made, and
he was still examining so as to find where he could
drive in the next wedge with the most effect when the
butler came back.
“She hasn’t stirred,” he said.
“She can’t,” said
his companion, with a laugh, and he began tapping
again vigorously, but at the end of half a dozen strokes,
as his hammer was poised to deliver another, there
was a dull clang, and the young fellow leaped back.
“Hear that?” he said in a whisper full
of triumph.
“Yes, it was like the banging to of another
iron door.”
“Banging to of an iron grandmother!”
cried Arthur, contemptuously; “it’s the
whole front splitting away, and another wedge in will
fetch it right off.”
“I hope so,” said Roach,
piteously. “Do you think it will take much
longer?”
“I don’t care if it takes
two days,” said the other, coolly. “Don’t
matter so long as we get the door open.”
Roach sighed.
“There, hold the light, and
don’t do that. You are a cheerful mate,
’pon my sivvy. Here goes.”
The speaker began again, keeping a
sharp lookout, so as to spring back and not be crushed
by the falling door; and to this end he made Roach
stand in the entrance and direct the light from there,
giving him plenty of room. But the door did
not fall, and at the end of an hour the hammer was
thrown down.
“It’s no go.”
“Do you give it up?” cried Roach, eagerly.
“No, I don’t give it up,
but I’m not going to work all the flesh off my
bones when one stroke will do the work.”
“What! The powder?”
“That’s it, old chap. Go and see
how the old woman is.”
Roach sighed, and went away, to return shivering.
“She looks horrible,”
he whispered; “but you mustn’t think of
powder, my lad. You’ll bring the people
in from both sides to see what’s the matter.”
“Won’t make noise enough
for that, and I sha’n’t use enough,”
said Arthur, coolly. “Don’t talk.
That door’s got to come open, and I wish I’d
tried this plan at first.”
“But it’s too dangerous.”
“No, it isn’t. You
keep quiet, and make that light shine well on the
key-hole.”
As he spoke the young man took a pound
canister of fine gun-powder from the portmanteau pushing
the latter afterwards outside into the passage.
Then with a small funnel, also provided in the portmanteau,
and fitted with a curved piece of pipe, to fill the
interior of the lock with the fine black dust, which
ran away down the funnel and pipe as easily as sand
from one side to another of an hour-glass.
“This is the way,” said
Arthur, eagerly. “I shall get pretty well
half a pound in.”
It seemed quite probable, for the
powder ran trickling on, every stoppage being overcome
by a shake or a tap or two, till at last, no matter
how the door was rapped, no more would go down.
“Doesn’t matter; there’s
plenty,” said the young man, quietly, thrusting
in a piece of ready prepared slow match, which hung
down the front of the door and half a yard over the
floor, where the powder sprinkled about was carefully
dusted away.
Then by means of a wedge some scraps
of rag were driven in tightly to fill up the key-hole,
and the young man rose up.
“There we are, old chap,”
he said. “All we’ve got to do is
to open the lantern, touch the end of that slow match
in the light, let it go down stop a minute,
let’s blow away a little more of the powder then
there’ll be plenty of time to shut and lock the
door, wait for the blow-out of the lock, and go in
after and pick up the best pieces, fill our Gladstones
as we like and be off.”
He went down on his knees, and, trembling
violently, Roach held up the lantern, as he stood
quiet outside now.
“Here! How am I to see?” cried his
companion, angrily.
“But it isn’t safe to bring a light near
the powder.”
“Bosh! How can a light
behind glass do any harm? Come closer, I mustn’t
leave any powder near the slow match. That’s
better; I can see now, and Ah! take care.”
For all at once the butler fell over
him with a crash, the lantern struck against the opposite
wall and came open, the lamp portion falling out and
firing some of the scattered powder, while at the same
moment the lobby door was banged to, shut, and they
heard the shooting of the lock.