Monsieur kneeled, placed his ear against it, and began slowly to turn the knob, listening intently for the little metal hammers, or tumblers, of the lock to fall clicking into place. "I never supposed he knew enough for that," Tommy whispered. "It's a regular crook's way!" At last, very much disgusted, he gave up after explaining that he could have succeeded in an hour or so, but preferred to use dynamite because it was quicker. "Undoubtedly it's quicker," Tommy said, "but unless you've cracked safes that way before, we may as well say good-bye to the bungalow!" Gates thought that the door, being of ancient pattern, might yield to a sledge, and Smilax went in search of one. Finding none of sufficient size, he returned with an anvil, swinging it by its spike. I remember the muscles of his arm that held it, the poise of his body as he raised it above his head and gathered every ounce of power to hurl it upon the combination knob. It made a superb picture of primordial man pitted against the sciences. After each resounding blow we tried to throw the lever, and at last the battered door swung out. Here was a find worth coming far to see--packages upon packages of greenbacks, all counterfeit, but they made a show, nevertheless. There were also plates for printing francs, pounds and rubles, as well as those from which the American bills had been made. While Monsieur was studying one of these more carefully, Tommy reached past him and drew out a large bundle wrapped in heavy brown paper, securely tied and sealed. He cut the strings and opened it, then gave a whistle of surprise, asking: "Are these counterfeit, too?" "_Mon Dieu_, no!" the old fellow gasped, and I, also, caught my breath; for in the bundle were hundreds of unregistered French bonds, of the highest denomination. Opening one, I looked at the last coupon, announcing that it bore a date of about seventeen years ago, whereupon Monsieur cried: "Ah, I see it! This accounts for the royal seal we found! Here, at last, is the perpetrator of that grand swindle, lying peacefully behind the door and not caring what we discover! But he has taken his rue with the spoils!--he dared not enjoy these because of the lees he saw in the pleasure cup!" "Chop that off," Tommy told him. "If you've an inspiration about this stuff, come across with it!" "Ah-ha, that man--that _capitaine_ Jess! His name is Karl Schartzmann, a shrewd, rascally German who vanished after the _coup d'etat_!" "What swindle, Monsieur?--what _coup d'etat_? Whom do these belong to?" I was really losing patience; and Tommy murmured: "Jack, didn't it strike you that only a German mind could have conceived that revenge on Efaw Kotee?" "It was certainly true to German form," I admitted, without reluctance.