"I'll be glad to do it for you," replied Pauline. "There's plenty of room--the safe's almost empty and it's ridiculously large." "My package isn't small," said Culver. "And on my mind it weighs tons." He reached into his large bag--at sight of it Pauline had wondered why he had brought such a bag up from the hotel when his papers for her inspection were so few. He lifted out an oblong, bulky package. "If you'll just touch that button," said she, "James will come and show you how to get to the safe." Culver hesitated nervously. Finally he said: "I'm making a nuisance of myself, Mrs. Dumont, but would you mind going to the safe with me? I'd much rather none of the servants knew about this." Pauline smiled and bade him follow her. They went to her private sitting-room and she showed him the safe, in a small closet built into the lower part of the book-case. "You have the combination?" asked Culver, as he put the package away. "I see that you don't lock this door often." "How fortunate you spoke of it!" said she. "The combination is on a bit of paper in one of the little drawers." Culver found it in the first drawer he opened, and handed it to her without looking at it. "You mustn't let me know it," said he. "I'll just fix the time lock so that it won't interfere." And when he had done so, he closed the safe. As he left, he said, "I shall only bother you to let me sleep in the house. I'll be very busy all day each day I'm here." When she thought he had gone he returned to add: "Perhaps I'd better explain to you that there's forty-five thousand dollars in cash in the package. That's why I was so anxious for no one to know." "I'll say nothing about it," Pauline assured him. Larkin came down from Indianapolis the next day and registered at the Palace Hotel. As soon as he could escape from the politicians and newspaper correspondents in the hotel office, he went by a devious route to a room on the floor below his own and, knocking, was admitted to Culver and Merriweather. He nodded to Dumont's political agent, then said to Culver: "You've got the dough?" "Yes," Culver answered, in his best imitation of the tone of the man of large affairs. "In twenties, fifties and hundreds." "I hope, mighty few hundreds," said Larkin. "The boys are kind o' shy about changing hundred-dollar bills. It seems to attract attention to them." He had large, dreamy, almost sentimental, brown eyes that absurdly misrepresented his character, or, at least, his dominant characteristics. His long, slightly bent nose and sharp chin and thin, tight mouth were more truthful. "How do things look, Joe?" asked Merriweather. "Yes, Mr. Dumont asked me to telegraph him after I'd talked with you," said Culver. "Has Scarborough made much headway?" "I must say, he's raised a darn sight more hell than I thought he would," Larkin answered.