"HE STEPPED IN."]

The book-keeper used to observe afterwards that a single second's
deviation of characteristic thought and he would have gone mad. Stronger
minds in a parallel situation would have indeed collapsed. But a weaker
man can never confront the inevitable, but clings more stubbornly to
hope. They are only weak individualities who, in the act of drowning,
catch at straws.

As the book-keeper felt himself gradually growing faint for want of air
to breathe, his revivified hope led him to deliberately crash his fist
into the woodwork with which the interior of the safe was fitted, in
secretaire fashion, one drawer being built above another. This gave him
a few additional cubic feet of air.

As may have been conjectured, the noise which smote the book-keeper's
ear was that of a drill. Although acutely discerned within, the sound
was practically smothered on the outside of the vault.

At one end of the drill was a cavity, rapidly growing larger, in one of
the steel panels. At its other end was a heavy, warty fist, part of the
anatomy of Baptiste, the industrious mechanic. Baptiste held the drill
while his comrade, Pierre, pounded it in.

Soon the two burglars became aware that some sort of animal commotion
was going on within the safe. It nearly drove them into convulsions of
astonishment. Baptiste was so startled that he dropped the drill.

"It is a ghost," he said.

Baptiste was for throwing up the job uncompromisingly on the spot, but
this proposal met with obstacles. His fellow workman, who was of stiffer
courage, rejected it with scorn, as savouring too much of the
superstitious. Pierre had a large family to support, he argued. He spoke
frankly. They could not afford to throw away the opportunities of
Providence. To his friend and co-labourer, the burden of his remarks
was:--

"_Lache!_ Go hon! You make me tired wiz yer ghosts an' tings. Let's not
have no beast foolin'--see? De job is commence: _Allons!_"

The upshot of this was that Pierre and Baptiste went back to work. At
the third crack of the drill, Pierre crossed himself, and said:--

"Baptiste, dere's a man in dat safe!"

Both men grew pale as death at the very suggestion. Baptiste, for
instance, was so frightened he couldn't utter a syllable. His tongue
clove to the roof of his mouth. However, Pierre, as usual, was the first
to recover. He applied his ear, first to the lock and then to the
drill-hole.

"Hey, in dere!" he cried, yet not