become known that we have never had occasion to unpack the money, and that it

is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon which I sit contains 2,000

napoleons packed between layers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much

larger at present than is usually kept in a single branch office, and the

directors have had misgivings upon the subject.”


“Which were very well justified,” observed Holmes. “And now

it is time that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within 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, and I

thought that, as we were a partie carrée, you might have your rubber

after all. But I see that the enemy’s preparations have gone so far that

we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must choose our

positions. These are daring men, and though we shall take them at a

disadvantage, they may do us some harm unless we are careful. I shall stand

behind this crate, and do you conceal yourselves behind those. Then, when I

flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no

compunction about shooting them down.”


I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind which I

crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern and left us in

pitch darkness—such an absolute darkness as I have never before

experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the light was

still there, ready to flash out at a moment’s notice. To me, with my

nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and

subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the vault.


“They have but one retreat,” whispered Holmes. “That is back

through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have done what I

asked you, Jones?”