even with excitement.

The Scotch-Canadian lit another match. In the flare of it they saw that
the steel grill cutting off the alcove was open and that the door had
been blown from the safe. It lay on the floor among a litter of papers,
silver, fragments of steel, and bits of candle.

The marshal clutched at the arm of the banker. "Did you see--that?" he
whispered.

His finger pointed through the darkness to the other end of the room. In
the faint gray light of coming day Macdonald could see a huddled mass on
the floor.

"There has been murder done. I'll get a light. Don't move from here,
Jones. I want to look at things before we disturb them. There's no
danger. The robbers have been gone for hours."

Gopher had as much nerve as the next man--when the sun was shining and
he could see what danger he was facing. But there was something sinister
and nerve-racking here. He wanted to throw open the door and shout the
news to those outside.

By the light of another match the mine-owner crossed the room into
the sitting-room of the cashier. Presently he returned with a lamp
and let its light fall upon the figure lying slumped against the wall.
A revolver lay close to the inert fingers. The head hung forward
grotesquely upon the breast.

The dead man was Milton. His employer saw nothing ridiculous in the
twisted neck and sprawling limbs. The cashier had died to save the money
entrusted to his care.

Macdonald handed the lamp to the marshal and picked up the revolver.
Every chamber was loaded.

"They beat him to it. They were probably here when he reached home.
My guess is he heard them right away, got his gun, and came in. He's
still wearing his dress suit. That gives us the time, for he left the
club about midnight. Soon as they saw him they dropped him. Likely they
heard him and were ready. I wouldn't have had this happen for all the
money in the safe."

"How much was there in it?"

"I don't know exactly. The books will show. I'll send Wally down to look
them over."

"Shot right spang through the heart, looks like," commented Jones,
following with his eye the course of the wound.

"Wish I'd been here instead of him," Macdonald said grimly. His eyes
softened as he continued to look down at the employee who had paid
with his life for his faithfulness. "It wasn't an even break. Poor old
fellow! You weren't built for a job like this, Robert Milton, but you
played your hand out to a finish. That's all any man can