“Exactly,” said Leon. “I particularly wish that safe to be opened, and since Mr. Lee demurs, I think this is the best method. I had that in my mind all the time. Have you seen the safe, George? I have. Nobody but an expert could smash it. I have no tools. I did not provide against such a contingency, and I have scruples. Our friends have the tools—and no scruples!” “And the snake—is there any danger?” Leon snapped his fingers. “The snake has struck for the night, and will strike no more! As for Gurther——” “He owes you something.” Leon sent another ring up and did not speak until it broke on the ceiling. “Gurther is dead,” he said simply. “He has been lying on the lawn in front of the house for the past ten minutes.” _Chapter XVII_ _Written in Braille_ LEON briefly related the scene he had witnessed from the balcony. “It was undoubtedly Gurther,” he said. “I could not mistake him. He passed out of view for a second behind one of the pillars, and when I looked round he was lying flat on the ground.” He threw his cigarette into the fire-place. “I think it is nearly time,” he said. He waited until Manfred had gone, and, going to the door, moved the bar and pulled it open wide. Stooping down, he saw that the opening of the door had been observed, for one of the men was moving across the lawn in the direction of the house. From his pocket he took a small electric lamp and sent three flickering beams into the darkness. To his surprise, only two men walked forward to the house. Evidently Cuccini was expected to deal with any resistance before the raid occurred. The house had been built in the fifteenth century, and the entrance hall was a broad, high barn of a place. Some Georgian architect, in the peculiar manner of his kind, had built a small minstrel gallery over the dining-room entrance and immediately facing the study. Leon had already explored the house and had found the tiny staircase that led to this architectural monstrosity. He had no sooner given the signal than he dived into the dining-room, through the tall door, and was behind the thick curtains at the back of the narrow gallery when the first two men came in. He saw them go straight into the study and push open the door. At the same time a third man appeared under the porch, though he made no attempt to enter the hall. Presently one of those who had gone into the study came out and called Cuccini by name. When no answer came, he went grumbling back to his task. What that task was, Leon could guess, before the peculiarly acrid smell of hot steel was wafted to his sensitive nostrils. By crouching down he could see the legs of the men who were working at the safe. They had turned on all the lights, and apparently expected no interruption. The man at the door was joined by another man. “Where is Lew?” In the stillness of the house the words, though spoken in a low tone, were audible.