come up the
stairs carrying a pail and broom. As his head reached the level
of the railings The Stetson Man neatly sand-bagged him, rushed
across to the outer door, and closed it!

Given duplicate keys and the private information which Dexter so
ingeniously had obtained, there are many London banks vulnerable to
similar attack. Certainly, bullion is rarely kept in a branch
storeroom, but the detective was well aware that the keys of the
case containing the slipper were kept in this particular safe!

He was convinced, and could entertain no shadowy doubt, that at
last Dexter had triumphed. He wondered if it had ever hitherto
fallen to the lot of a representative of the law thus to be made
an accessory to a daring felony!

But human endurance has well-defined limits. The fading light
rendered the ingenious picture dim and more dim. The pain
occasioned by his position became agonizing, and uttering a stifled
groan he ceased to take an interest in the robbery of the London
County and Provincial Bank.

Fate is a comedian; and when later I learned how I had lain strapped
to my bed, and, so near to me, Bristol had hung helpless as a
butchered carcass in the office of the Congo Fibre Company, whilst,
in our absence from the stage, the drama of the slipper marched
feverish to its final curtain, I accorded Fate her well-earned
applause. I laughed; not altogether mirthfully.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SLIPPER

Someone was breaking in at the door of my chambers!

I aroused myself from a state of coma almost death-like and listened
to the blows. The sun was streaming in at my windows.

A splintering crash told of a panel broken. Then a moment later I
heard the grating of the lock, and a rush of footsteps along the
passage.

"Try the study!" came a voice that sounded like Bristol's, save that
it was strangely weak and shaky.

Almost simultaneously the Inspector himself threw open the bedroom
door--and, very pale and haggard-eyed, stood there looking across at
me. It was a scene unforgettable.

"Mr. Cavanagh!" he said huskily--"Mr. Cavanagh! Thank God you're
alive! But"--he turned--"this way, Marden!" he cried, "Untie him
quickly! I've got no strength in my arms!"

Marden, a C.I.D. man, came running, and in a minute, or less, I was
sitting up gulping brandy.

"I've had the most awful experience of my life," said Bristol.
"You've fared badly enough, but I've been hanging by my wrists--you
know Dexter