"Yeah," a boy was saying, "it's happened before. A couple o' times."
"They got a telephone goin' inside and they're talkin' to him."
The boy nodded rapidly. "Yeah--some talk! Tellin' him what to try next."
The boy was glad of a new and uninformed listener. "Aw, some dumb vault clerk got himself locked in, an' the locks jammed an' they can't get him out."
"Naw. The big one's got pipes for that kinda trouble. The little one they moved from the old building."
"It's not so darn little at that," someone said.
Another person, a man, chuckled. "Not so darn. But there isn't air in there to last three hours. Caughlin said so."
"Honest. An' he's been there more than an hour already."
"Jeest!" There was a pregnant, pictorial silence. Someone looked at Hugo.
His face was tense and his hands were opening and closing convulsively. "No," he answered. "Guess I'll go down and have a look."
He rang for an elevator in the corridor and was carried to the basement. In the small room on which the vault opened were five or six people, among them a woman who seemed to command the situation. The men were all smoking; their attitudes were relaxed, their voices hushed.
One repeated nervously: "Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ."
"That won't help, Mr. Quail. I've sent for the expert and he will probably have the safe open in a short time."
"Blowtorches?" the swearing man asked abruptly.
"Absurd. He would cook before he was out. And three feet of steel and then two feet more."
"And make jelly out of him?" The woman tapped her finger-nails with her glasses.
Another arrival, who carried a small satchel, talked with her in an undertone and then took off his coat. He went first to a telephone on the wall and said: "Gi' me the inside of the vault. Hello.... Hello? You there? Are you all right?... Try that combination again." The safe-expert held the wire and waited. Not even the faintest sounds of the attempt were audible in the front room. "Hello? You tried it?... Well, see if those numbers are in this order." He repeated a series of complicated directions. Finally he hung up. "Says it's getting pretty stuffy in there. Says he's lying down on the floor."
People came and went. The president himself walked in calmly and occupied a chair. He lit a cigar, puffed on it, and stared with ruminative eyes at the shiny mechanism on the front of the safe.
