“My client requires the very best work; he desires a building that will stand shocks.” Mr. Spedding shot a swift glance at the contractor, who sat at the other side of the desk. “Something that a footling little dynamite explosion would not scatter to the four winds.” The contractor nodded. “You have read the specification,” the solicitor went on--he was cutting a new cigar, “and in regard to the pedestal--ah--the pedestal, you know----?” He stopped and looked at the contractor. “It seems all very clear,” said the great builder. He took a bundle of papers from an open bag by his side and read, “The foundation to be of concrete to the depth of twenty feet.... The pedestal to be alternate layers of dressed granite and steel ... in the center a steel-lined compartment, ten inches by five, and half the depth of the pedestal itself.” The solicitor inclined his head. “That pedestal is to be the most important thing in the whole structure. The steel-lined recess--I don’t know the technical phrase--which one of these days your men will have to fill in, is the second most important; but the safe that is to stand fifty feet above the floor of the building is to be--but the safe is arranged for.” An army of workmen, if the hackneyed phrase be permitted, descended upon Lombard Street and pulled down the old buildings. They pulled them down, and broke them down, and levered them down, and Lombard Street grew gray with dust. The interiors of quaint old rooms with grimy oak paneling were indecently exposed to a passing public. Clumsy, earthy carts blocked Lombard Street, and by night flaring Wells’ lights roared amidst the chaos. And bare-armed men sweated and delved by night and by day; and one morning Mr. Spedding stood in a drizzle of rain, with a silk umbrella over his head, and expressed, on behalf of his client, his intense satisfaction at the progress made. He stood on a slippery plank that formed a barrow road, and workmen, roused to unusual activity by the presence of “The Firm”--Mr. Spedding’s cicerone--moved to and fro at a feverish rate of speed. “They don’t mind the rain,” said the lawyer, sticking out his chin in the direction of the toiling gangs. “The Firm” shook his head. “Extra pay,” he said laconically, “we provided for that in the tender,” he hastened to add in justification of his munificence. So in rain and sunshine, by day and by night, the New Safe Deposit came into existence. Once--it was during a night shift, a brougham drove up the deserted city street, and a footman helped from the dark interior of the carriage a shivering old man with a white, drawn face. He showed a written order to the foreman, and was allowed inside the unpainted gate of the “works.”