Blind Policy Part 35

But the fresh oil sent it no farther, and the butler wiped his dripping brow and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed--

"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 gla.s.s; 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 pa.s.sage 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 sc.r.a.p, sc.r.a.p 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 pa.s.sed?"

"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."