hastily, and, fitting a key in the lock, passed within,
slamming the door after him. In the darkness of the stuffy cubby-hole,
his fingers found a small flash-light in the pocket of an old vest which
hung from one of the hooks. Directing the rays of the light about him,
he worked his way through the hanging garments and reached the end of
the closet. For an instant his fingers slid along the inside wall. Then
a cool draught of air fanned his face, strongly tinctured with the
smell of the mud-flats.

Swinging the panel shut behind him, Silvanus Rock descended the narrow
stairway. When he reached the bottom he paused and drew his coat collar
closer about his neck. The air was damp and cold and the waters of the
bay were lapping softly against the pilings which supported the
building.

Grasping the wooden rail of the gangway which led away from the bottom
of the stairs, the capitalist crept on through the darkness until he
reached the base of a big concrete storage-vat. Groping for the lock
which secured the outlet-cleaning-door of the big tank, he unlocked it
and passed within.

With the water-tight door closed behind him, he switched on the electric
light. The cement floor of the vat was already partly covered with the
fish which slid downward from the receiving tanks on the platform above.

Rock listened intently. But only the soft slip of the fish through the
chute and the drip of the water from the draining-table, disturbed the
silence. Then he heard the murmur of men's voices from the platform. The
valve was still open. When Blankovitch closed that, no sound would
penetrate the vat from the outside world.

He turned his attention at once to the fish. Drawing one of the albacore
to one side, his fat fingers delved carefully into the fish's belly.
Then they brought forth a large aluminum capsule and laid it carefully
on a tin-topped table which stood conveniently near a small
capping-machine.

For some moments he repeated the operation until all the fish had been
emptied of their contents and a double row of capsules covered the
table.

The albacore, he noticed suddenly, had ceased to slip through the chute.
He frowned at the observance. Surely Rossi had brought a larger cargo
than this.

Walking again to the intake from the tank above, he listened. The valve
was still open. There would be more or Blankovitch would close the chute
and assist him below. Wiping his hands carefully on his handkerchief, he
walk