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Updated: May 2, 2025
I started after you, and have only reached the preliminaries of my search. I am certain of but one thing, and that is, that a scratch was on the safe-door. That scratch is my starting-point." As he spoke, M. Lecoq took from his desk and unrolled an immense sheet of drawing-paper. On this paper was photographed the door of M. Fauvel's safe. The impression of every detail was perfect.
Lanyard offered him a pleasant smile. Phinuit scowled forbiddingly in response. Monk swung open the safe-door, seized the metal despatch-box by the handle, and set it upon the desk with a bang. Then, extracting his pocket key-ring, he selected the proper key and made several attempts to insert it in the slot of the lock.
A boy led me to H. K. Thurber's private office, but there were several men ahead of me and I waited my turn. The longer I waited the smaller I kept growing. Mr. Thurber's face was one that you could study. One moment it lit up with a smile or happy thought, the next his mouth closed with a snap as if it was the combination lock of a safe-door.
There was an acrid odor of dynamite fumes in the air, and when he pressed on to the third room of the suite the gases were stifling. His first act was to feel for the switch and cut in the electric lights. The third room, which had doors of communication with his own office and Collins's, was a wreck. Desks were broken open, and the safe-door had been blown from its hinges.
And, half frenzied, she clung to Raoul's arm, and pulled him away so abruptly, that the key was dragged from the lock, and, slipping along the glossy varnish of the safe-door, made a deep scratch some inches long. But at a glance Raoul discovered, on the upper shelf of the safe, three bundles of bank-notes. He snatched them up with his left hand, and slipped them inside his vest.
Then he opened the safe-door for a moment, just to give me the peep I had begged for, but not long enough for me to touch anything even if I'd dared to try with him standing there. Enough, though, to show me that the documents were neatly arranged in labelled pigeon-holes, and to see their general character, colour, and shape.
On the safe-door was lettered "A. L. Baxter & Co." A man with a young, smooth face and silver-white hair was sitting at the desk. He turned and nodded pleasantly. "I want to see Pony," said The Spider. "You're talking to him," said the other. "What can I do for you?" "You can tell Pony that I want to see him, here," said The Spider. "And don't worry, he knows me." "The name, please."
Remarkably strange!" he remarked to himself quite aloud. "I'm never mistaken in Gabrielle's voice. Gabrielle, dear, where are you? Why don't you speak? It's too late to-night to play practical jokes." Flockart knew that he had left the safe-door open, yet he dared not move across the room to close it. The sightless man would detect the slightest movement in that dead silence of the night.
He took up the candle, and gently but firmly led Mme. Fauvel toward the staircase. She mechanically suffered herself to be led along, more bewildered by what she had just heard than she was at the opening of the safe-door. "What!" she gasped, "can Prosper be a thief?"
Why, don't you know that on the very day you were sent for with the commissary to verify the robbery, you held I do not say certainly, but very probably held in your great stupid hands the means of knowing which key had been used when the money was stolen?" "How! What!" "You want to know, do you? I will tell you. Do you remember the scratch you discovered on the safe-door?
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