s such as are used in developing photographs, and
apparently hung there to dry, swinging from strings, the proofs of many
negatives.

Loyal to her brother, Monica exclaimed indignantly. At the proofs she
pointed an accusing finger.

"Look!" she whispered. "This is Peabody's darkroom, where he develops
the flash-lights he takes of the hieroglyphs! Chester has a right to be
furious!"

Impulsively she would have pushed past Everett; but with an exclamation
he sprang in front of her.

"No!" he commanded, "come away!"

He had fallen into a sudden panic. His tone spoke of some catastrophe,
imminent and overwhelming. Monica followed the direction of his eyes.
They were staring in fear at the proofs.

The girl leaned forward; and now saw them clearly.

Each was a United States Treasury note for five hundred dollars.

Around the turn of the tunnel, approaching the vault apparently from
another passage, they heard hurrying footsteps; and then, close to them
from the vault itself, the voice of Professor Peabody.

It was harsh, sharp, peremptory.

"Hands up!" it commanded. "Drop that gun!"

As though halted by a precipice, the footsteps fell into instant
silence. There was a pause, and then the ring of steel upon the stone
floor. There was another pause, and Monica heard the voice of her
brother. Broken, as though with running, it still retained its level
accent, its note of insolence.

"So," it said, "I have caught you?"

Monica struggled toward the lighted vault, but around her Everett threw
his arm.

"Come away!" he begged.

Monica fought against the terror of something unknown. She could not
understand. They had come only to prevent a meeting between her
brother and Peabody; and now that they had met, Everett was endeavoring
to escape.

It was incomprehensible.

And the money in the vault, the yellow bills hanging from a cobweb of
strings; why should they terrify her; what did they threaten? Dully,
and from a distance, Monica heard the voice of Peabody.

"No," he answered; "I have caught you! And I've had a hell of a time
doing it!"

Monica tried to call out, to assure her brother of her presence. But,
as though in a nightmare, she could make no sound. Fingers of fear
gripped at her throat. To struggle was no longer possible.

The voice of Peabody continued:

"Six months ago we traced these bills to New Orleans. So we guessed
the plant was in Central America. We knew only one man who c