“I must really ask you to be a little more quiet！” said Holmesseverely. “You have already imperilled the whole success of ourexpedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sitdown upon one of those boxes， and not to interfere？”
The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate，with a very injured expression upon his face， while Holmesfell upon his knees upon the floor and， with the lantern and amagnifying lens， began to examine minutely the cracks betweenthe stones. A few seconds sufficed to satisfy him， for he sprang tohis feet again and put his glass in his pocket.
“We have at least an hour before us，” he remarked， “for they canhardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed.
Then they will not lose a minute， for the sooner they do their workthe longer time they will have for their escape. We are at present，Doctor—as no doubt you have divined—in the cellar of the Citybranch of one of the principal London banks. Mr. Merryweatheris the chairman of directors， and he will explain to you that thereare reasons why the more daring criminals of London should takea considerable interest in this cellar at present.”
“It is our French gold，” whispered the director. “We have hadseveral warnings that an attempt might be made upon it.”
“Your French gold？”
“Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen ourresources and borrowed for that purpose 30，000 napoleons fromthe Bank of France. It has become known that we have never hadoccasion to unpack the money， and that it is still lying in our cellar.
The crate upon which I sit contains 2，000 napoleons packedbetween layers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much largerat present than is usually kept in a single branch office， and thedirectors have had misgivings upon the subject.”
“Which were very well justified，” observed Holmes. “Andnow it is time that we arranged our little plans. I expect thatwithin an hour matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr.
Merryweather， we must put the screen over that dark lantern.”
“And sit in the dark？”
“I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket， andI thought that， as we were a partie carrée， you might have yourrubber after all. But I see that the enemy’s preparations have goneso far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And， first of all，we must choose our positions. These are daring men， and thoughwe shall take them at a disadvantage， they may do us some harmunless we are careful. I shall stand behind this crate， and do youconceal yourselves behind those. Then， when I flash a light uponthem， close in swiftly. If they fire， Watson， have no compunctionabout shooting them down.”
I placed my revolver， cocked， upon the top of the wooden casebehind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the frontof his lantern and left us in pitch darkness—such an absolutedarkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hotmetal remained to assure us that the light was still there， readyto flash out at a moment’s notice. To me， with my nerves workedup to a pitch of expectancy， there was something depressing andsubduing in the sudden gloom， and in the cold dank air of thevault.
“They have but one retreat，” whispered Holmes. “That is backthrough the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you havedone what I asked you， Jones？”
“I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door.”
“Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silentand wait.”
What a time it seemed！ From comparing notes afterwards itwas but an hour and a quarter， yet it appeared to me that the nightmust have almost gone， and the dawn be breaking above us. Mylimbs were weary and stiff， for I feared to change my position；yet my nerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension，and my hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentlebreathing of my companions， but I could distinguish the deeper，heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin， sighing note ofthe bank director. From my position I could look over the case inthe direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint of alight.
At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement.
Then it lengthened out until it became a yellow line， and then，without any warning or sound， a gash seemed to open and a handappeared， a white， almost womanly hand， which felt about in thecentre of the little area of light. For a minute or more the hand，with its writhing fingers， protruded out of the floor. Then it waswithdrawn as suddenly as it appeared， and all was dark again savethe single lurid spark which marked a chink between the stones.
Its disappearance， however， was but momentary. With a rending，tearing sound， one of the broad， white stones turned over upon itsside and left a square， gaping hole， through which streamed thelight of a lantern. Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut， boyishface， which looked keenly about it， and then， with a hand on eitherside of the aperture， drew itself shoulder-high and waist-high， untilone knee rested upon the edge. In another instant he stood at theside of the hole and was hauling after him a companion， lithe andsmall like himself， with a pale face and a shock of very red hair.
“It’s all clear，” he whispered. “Have you the chisel and the bags？
Great Scott！ Jump， Archie， jump， and I’ll swing for it！”
Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by thecollar. The other dived down the hole， and I heard the sound ofrending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed uponthe barrel of a revolver， but Holmes’ hunting crop came down onthe man’s wrist， and the pistol clinked upon the stone floor.
“It’s no use， John Clay，” said Holmes blandly. “You have nochance at all.”
“So I see，” the other answered with the utmost coolness. “Ifancy that my pal is all right， though I see you have got his coattails.”
“There are three men waiting for him at the door，” said Holmes.
“Oh， indeed！ You seem to have done the thing very completely. Imust compliment you.”