w what he will do," said she, meeting the false detective's
eye as she laid her hand on the safe, "but I know what I shall do if you
carry out the purpose you threaten. Show my papers to the police and
demand evidence of my having any bad intentions in opening this safe
this morning. I think you will have difficulty in producing any. I think
that you will only prove yourself a fool. Are you so strong with the
authorities as to brave that?"

Astonished at her insight and more than astonished at her self-control,
the experienced cracksman paused, and then in tones he rarely used,
remarked quietly:

"You are playing with your life, Miss Lee. I have a pistol leveled at
you from my pocket, and I'm the man to fire if you give me the slightest
occasion to do so. I'm Beau Johnson, miss, a detective if you please,
but also a tolerably experienced cracksman, and I want a taste of those
bonds."

"And Mr. Fellows?"

The words rang out clear and fearlessly.

"Oh, he? He's a muff. You needn't concern yourself about him. The
matter's between us two. Three thousand dollars for you, and a little
more, perhaps, for me, and I to take all the blame."

Her eye stole toward the door. No one could enter that way, she knew.
Even her screams, if she survived them, might alarm, but could not bring
her help for several minutes, if not longer. Yet she did not tremble;
only grew a shade paler.

"You do not answer. What have you to say?"

"This." She was like marble now. "You will not kill me, because that
would be virtually to kill yourself. You cannot leave this room without
my help, nor fire a shot without being caught like a rat in a trap. I
want three thousand dollars, and I mean to have them, but I do not see
how you are going to get the few more which you promise yourself.
Certainly I am not going to aid you in doing so, and you cannot open
that safe. You have not the musical training."

"No." The word came like a shot, possibly in lieu of a shot, for if
ever he felt murderous it was at that moment. "I have not a musical
training, but that does not make me helpless. In a few moments I shall
have the pleasure of hearing you test your voice again. There's the
office clock ticking; count the strokes."

She stood fascinated. What did he mean by this? Involuntarily she did
his bidding.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, _eleven_!"

"Yes," he repeated, "eleven! And at half past your old father dies."

"Die