“Nor from below,” said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon the
flags which lined the floor. “Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!”
he remarked, looking up in surprise.
“I must really ask you to be a little more quiet,” said Holmes,
severely. “You have already imperilled the whole success of our
expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down
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 Holmes fell upon his
knees upon the floor, and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens,
began to examine minutely the cracks between the stones. A few
seconds sufficed to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again,
and put his glass in his pocket.
“We have at least an hour before us,” he remarked; “for they can
hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed.
Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work
the longer time they will have for their escape. We are at present,
doctor—as no doubt you have divined—in the cellar of the city branch
of one of the principal London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the
chairman of directors, and he will explain to you that there are
reasons why the more daring criminals of London should take a
considerable interest in this cellar at present.”
“It is our French gold,” whispered the director. “We have had
several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it.”
“Your French gold?”
“Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources,
and borrowed, for that purpose, 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of
France. It has 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 2000 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 mean time, Mr. Merryweather, we
must put the screen over that dark lantern.”
“And sit in the dark?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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