his black
coffee and wondering privately whether it was really very good or very
bad, "speaking quite seriously, the one fishy detail--our ginger
friend's watching for the other to leave--may be open to a dozen very
innocent explanations."

"So innocent that to-morrow I intend taking a safe myself."

"You think that everything is all right?"

"On the contrary, I am convinced that something is very wrong."

"Then why--?"

"I shall keep nothing there, but it will give me the _entree_. I
should advise you, Louis, in the first place to empty your safe with
all possible speed, and in the second to leave your business card on
the manager."

Mr. Carlyle pushed his cup away, convinced now that the coffee was
really very bad.

"But, my dear Max, the place--'The Safe'--is impregnable!"

"When I was in the States, three years ago, the head porter at one
hotel took pains to impress on me that the building was absolutely
fireproof. I at once had my things taken off to another hotel. Two
weeks later the first place was burnt out. It _was_ fireproof, I
believe, but of course the furniture and the fittings were not and the
walls gave way."

"Very ingenious," admitted Mr. Carlyle, "but why did you really go?
You know you can't humbug me with your superhuman sixth sense, my
friend."

Carrados smiled pleasantly, thereby encouraging the watchful attendant
to draw near and replenish their tiny cups.

"Perhaps," replied the blind man, "because so many careless people
were satisfied that it was fireproof."

"Ah-ha, there you are--the greater the confidence the greater the
risk. But only if your self-confidence results in carelessness. Now do
you know how this place is secured, Max?"

"I am told that they lock the door at night," replied Carrados, with
bland malice.

"And hide the key under the mat to be ready for the first arrival in
the morning," crowed Mr. Carlyle, in the same playful spirit. "Dear
old chap! Well, let me tell you--"

"That force is out of the question. Quite so," admitted his friend.

"That simplifies the argument. Let us consider fraud. There again the
precautions are so rigid that many people pronounce the forms a
nuisance. I confess that I do not. I regard them as a means of
protecting my own property and I cheerfully sign my name and give my
password, which the manager compares with his record-book before he
releases the first lock of my safe. The signature is burned before my
eyes in a sort of c