They found a hansom at the corner of Queen’s Road, and drove to the Bank; here they alighted and crossed to the Royal Exchange. Some men in uniform overcoats who were standing about exchanged glances with Connor, and as the two leaders doubled back to Lombard Street, followed them at a distance. “The guard left at four o’clock,” said Spedding, fitting the key of the heavy outer door. He waited a few minutes in the inky black darkness of the vestibule whilst Connor admitted the six uniformed men who had followed them. “Are we all here?” said Connor in a low voice. “Bat? Here! Goyle? Here! Lamby? Here!” One by one he called them by their names and they answered. “We may as well have a light,” said Spedding, and felt for the switch. The gleam of the electric lamps showed Spedding as pure a collection of scoundrels as ever disgraced the uniform of a gallant corps. “Now,” said Spedding in level tones, “are all the necessary tools here?” Bat’s grin was the answer. “If we can get an electric connection,” he said, “we’ll burn out the lock of the safe in half----” Spedding had walked to the inner door that led to the great hall, and was fumbling with the keys. Suddenly he started back. “Hark!” he whispered. “I heard a step in the hall.” Connor listened. “I hear nothing,” he began, when the inner door was thrown open, and a commissionaire, revolver in hand, stepped out. “Stand!” he cried. Then, recognizing Spedding, dropped the muzzle of his pistol. White with rage, Spedding stood amidst his ill-assorted bodyguard. In the searching white light of the electric lamps there was no mistaking their character. He saw the commissionaire eying them curiously. “I understood,” he said slowly, “that the guard had been relieved.” “No, sir,” said the man, and the cluster of uniformed men at the door of the inner hall confirmed this. “I sent orders this afternoon,” said Spedding between his teeth. “No orders have been received, sir,” and the lawyer saw the scrutinizing eye of the soldierly sentry pass over his confederates. “Is this the relief?” asked the guard, not attempting to conceal the contempt in his tone. “Yes,” said the lawyer. As the sentry saluted and disappeared into the hall Spedding drew Connor aside. “This is ruin,” he said quickly. “The safe must be cleared to-night. To-morrow London will not hold me.” The sentry reappeared at the doorway and beckoned them in. They shuffled into the great hall, where in the half darkness the safe loomed up from its rocky pedestal, an eerie, mysterious thing. He saw Bat Sands glancing uncomfortably around the dim spaces of the building, and felt the impression of the loneliness. A man who wore the stripes of a sergeant came up. “Are we to withdraw, sir?” he asked. “Yes,” said Spedding shortly. “Will you give us a written order?” asked the man. Spedding hesitated, then drew out a pocketbook and wrote a few hasty words on a sheet, tore it out, and handed it to the man.