"This is degradin' an honourable perfession," he complained. "A blind elepeptic palarytic could open this tin wiv an 'air-pin an' a corkscrew. I suppose," went on the uncertain vocabularian, warming to his topic, "it ain't to be dammagid? Becos, if you ain't particulant, an' there 'appens to be a sardine opener on the presimes----" "Get on with it," said the detective testily, for he was not feeling humorous at the moment. The expert got to work with a pained air, first experimenting with three skilfully twisted lengths of steel wire, and then filing a key with the result of his investigations to guide him. At the end of half an hour: "An' 'ere we are. All chynge for Charing Cross an' the Pink Elephant an' Castrol. Pass dahn the car, please! An' I may say, Mr. Charman, that a softer crib 'as yet to be builded. Why, if the game 'ad bin so elemtenary in my days, when I was an exterp at the skience, I'd've bin a blinkin' millionanthropist by now, I would. Drivin' abaht Myfair in a calabriot, wiv all the flatties touchin' their 'ats to me an' 'opin' I'd put a monkey in their Christmas Box. That's the narks all over. One lore for the rich an' another fer the porous. An' no gratootooies--'cept from those 'oo make them big enough." He regarded the confounded detective in wonder. "Well, well, Mr. Teal--wot's the matter? Ain't nothink there? Well, wot did jer expect ter find? A leopotamosceraffe or a box o' pink pills? This ain't Masculine's, yer know. No conjuratin' in this gallery." "Shut up, Nosey," said Teal rudely. "You can leg it now--we shan't want you any more. Oh, leave that key behind you. I want to shut this thing up again when I've finished." When the "exterp" had taken his departure Teal sat back on the desk and stared at the open safe. Empty, vacuously empty, it stared back at him--one of the most annoying voids he had ever seen. The rows of steel shelves were bare. The only souvenir that Prester John had left behind him was the cardboard replica of the Triangle badge which Teal had managed to conceal from the roving eye of the ex-yegg. Teal went back to the outer office and interrupted Mattock from the work of balancing a bulky ledger. "When were you last here?" demanded the detective. "Yesterday," said Mattock, without looking up. "Did you go into that inner office?" "Yes." "What time was this?" "About eleven-thirty." "P.m.?" asked Teal sleepily. Mattock raised his eyes with a tired expression. "Oh, are you still here?" he sighed. "Pip emma?" repeated Teal. Mattock closed the ledger and pushed back his chair. His face was a picture of long-suffering tolerance. "Is this a new kind of round game?" he inquired politely. "Because, if so, can't you get a detective or some other imbecile to play with you?" "No--you'll do. Is Prester John a friend of yours?" "I seem to have read about him. Did he write a book or something?" Teal played his penultimate card.