The Gray Mask. Camp Wadsworth

the safe here? Are we going to spend the rest of the night on this boat? If the cops are awake it isn't wise."

      "All right," the leader said. "George, you and Nora and Simmons wait here. The rest of you start out."

      The studious-appearing youth, the tramp, the dandy, and the elderly man filed through the door and silently closed it. The leader spoke to Garth quickly.

      "George will unlock the safe without any trouble. He's the best in the business. Your job's to open it and handle what you find without blowing the lot of us to everlasting dirt."

      Garth stirred uneasily.

      "Explosives!" he said. "I see why you wanted me."

      "The pay's high," Slim answered. "The fellows that are after this stuff don't trust diplomatic talk. Everybody wants it if only to be sure that nobody else gets it, for they claim that the nation that has it, could make a league of all the rest look like Tod Sloan fighting Dempsey. The inventor thinks Uncle Sam ought to have it, if anybody, but he's been holding off. It's new, and he's either afraid of it himself, or he thinks he can perfect it."

      "He's afraid of it," Nora breathed. "He told me it was a sin to invent it."

      "The point is, Simmons," the leader said, "can you handle the stuff with a degree of safety after you have read the formula? A man of your experience – "

      "I am not afraid to tackle it if I can see the formula," Garth answered quietly.

      "Say, Simmons," George put in with a wry face, "if there's anything phony about your education, drop off here."

      Garth fingered a frayed sheet of white paper.

      "I am not afraid if I can see the formula," he repeated.

      The leader turned to Nora.

      "You're sure there's some of the stuff in the safe with the formula? The foreigner wouldn't dicker without a sample to analyze."

      "I saw the formula and the sacks put in the safe to-night," she answered.

      George shook his head.

      "Nora, you're a wonder."

      "No wonder," she said contemptuously. "Nothing but hard work. An imbecile could have made friends with the housekeeper, but it took drudgery to get at the old man. I won't waste that. If there's any slip – "

      The leader glanced at the gray mask.

      "That's up to Simmons now," he said.

      CHAPTER III

      IN THE STEEL ROOM

      Garth's fingers played with the piece of white paper.

      "You haven't told me where the house is," he said.

      The moment the leader had answered Garth was standing on the bench. He waved his arm. Suddenly he blew out the lamp.

      "On the dock!" he stammered to the darkness. "A noise!"

      As the others crept to the door he scratched rapidly and silently with a match on the piece of paper the location of the house, the nature of the job, and an appeal for help. When he was through he heard the others coming back.

      "If your nerves jump like that, Simmons, what a chance we'll have!" George said. "Not a sign. Light up."

      Garth struck the match and relighted the lamp.

      "I never take unnecessary risks," he said simply.

      Nora, he knew, would guess that his excess of caution was a police trick. His eyes sought her anxiously as the lamp flamed, but she gave no sign. After a moment she whispered:

      "Let's start. It – it frightens me here."

      The leader opened the door.

      "It's time," he said. "They're asleep in the house by now."

      They followed him, threading obscure spaces and alleyways to the unlighted end of a street which deployed into a stone mason's yard, and always Garth asked:

      "Will she whisper my life away to the others?"

      A taxicab waited there. Garth man[oe]uvred so that he had a seat by the window. He let his hand, which clenched the piece of paper, dangle through. Such policemen as he saw were indifferent until crossing One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street he noticed one who looked straight at the cab. He let the paper flutter from his fingers, but he did not dare glance back to see if the policeman had picked it up.

      The cab halted in a dark side street off Lexington Avenue. A man stepped from the shadows and waved his hand. They alighted and walked with an unconcern that surprised Garth to the servants' entrance of a large house. This Nora unlocked. They entered and waited in the alley while one by one the four from the boat slipped through after them.

      Garth understood what these numbers meant. In order that Nora, George, and he might accomplish their task undisturbed, these men would bear to each inmate of the house chloroform, or, under necessity, something more permanently silencing.

      Walking heavy-hearted through the alley at Nora's heels, one last saving possibility occurred to Garth. Could this be another police trick? It was likely that the inspector had denied him his full confidence. Could Nora be on the same errand as himself, working for her father?

      When she had unlocked the house door he found himself brushing against her in the hall. Impulsively he reached down and clasped her hand. But her hand was like ice. She snatched it away. In her action and the sharp intake of her breath he felt his doubts resolved.

      Then he was flung into a stealthy, sure, and dreadful whirlpool of action. He heard feline movements on the stairs, a muffled thud in the darkness ahead, from the second floor a shrill cry, all at once strangled and beaten back into the heavy silence.

      He waited, panting. Upstairs someone rapped sharply three times. A pocket lamp flashed ahead, throwing a white shaft against finely-grained mahogany.

      A hand in the shaft signalled him, and he crept forward until he stumbled over a round, inert mass which lay just outside the room where the white light searched the mahogany.

      The light, wavering around to greet him, disclosed the obstacle. It was a man, deftly bound, and bandaged about the mouth, the ears, the eyes.

      "Shut the door."

      Garth closed the door on this disturbing vision.

      The mahogany formed the doors of a large and very wide cabinet. George knelt in front of this, inserting slender, gleaming tools in the lock with the adroitness of a watchmaker. To one side Nora crouched, playing the light on his illicit undertaking.

      George opened the doors and nodded to Garth. The light glowed now on the sleek, steel belly of a safe; and, as Garth, a trifle confused, reached out a steadying hand, he realized that the walls of this room were of steel, too. The cold, uncompromising feel of the metal was another warning to him. His only chance was that the safe might balk George for some time.

      The man's first words, indeed, encouraged this hope.

      "May take a little time," he muttered. "Might's well be comfortable, Simmons. Nora, toss us a couple of those sofa pillows."

      Nora reached to the divan behind her and passed the cushions to George. He arranged one to his satisfaction before raising his hand to the combination.

      "Plenty of time, isn't there?" Garth croaked anxiously.

      "Ought to be," George answered. "Everything's covered now. Didn't expect to find the watchman where we did though. If he hadn't been half asleep – Nora, maybe you doped him at supper."

      The girl gave no sign. She remained crouched at the side. She was like an animal, ready to spring at the first alarm.

      Garth was aware of an unusual tension himself. It was not quite the suspense he had forecasted. Perhaps this sharing of criminal labor for the first time accounted for its nature. He appreciated the amount of courage demanded. He received, as it were, George's disturbing point of view of the moment.

      Garth had caught a new stammering quality in the man's voice. He wondered at the perspiration which bathed his face in spite of the comfortable temperature of the room. He