side. As they did so, she noticed that the two clerks had been
sent out to luncheon, leaving them alone with Mr. Fellows. This was not
encouraging, nor did she like the click which at this moment Beau
Johnson made with his tongue. It sounded like a preconcerted signal.
Whether so or not, it brought Mr. Fellows from his room, and in another
instant he was standing with them before the telephone. There was a
clock over the safe-room door. It stood at just twenty-five minutes
after eleven.

"Hurry!" she whispered as the other took up the receiver.

She did not need to say it. His own anxiety seemed to be as great as
hers, but his anxiety was to be gone. The nerve which sustained him
while the issue was doubtful gave some slight tokens of failing, now
that his efforts had brought success and only this small obligation lay
between him and the enjoyment of the booty he had won at such a risk.
She was sure that his voice trembled as he uttered the familiar.
"Hello!" and during the interchange of words which followed, the strain
was perhaps as great on him as on her.

"Hello! how's the old man?"

She could hear the answer. It swept her fears away in a moment.

"Well, but anxious about the girl."

"She's all right, everything's all right. Take the sick man home and
tell him that his daughter will be there almost as soon as he is."

"I must hear my father's voice." It was Grace who was speaking. "I will
give a cry that will echo through this building if you do not put me in
communication with him at once."

Her hand went out to the receiver.

The veins on Beau Johnson's forehead stood out threateningly.

"Curse you!" he muttered; but he gave the order just the same.

"Hello! Don't shut off. The girl's nervous; wants to hear her father's
voice. Have him up! two words from him will answer."

"Father!"

Grace's mouth was at the phone.

No reply.

She cast one look at Johnson.

"They're getting him on his feet," he grumbled. _His_ eye was on the
door.

"Father!" she called again, her voice tremulous with doubt and anxiety.

A murmur this time, but she recognized it.

"It's he! it's he," she cried. "He's safe; he's well. _Father!_"

But Johnson had no time for dilly-dallying. Catching the receiver back,
he took his place again at the phone and shouted a few final
injunctions. Then he faced her with the question:

"Are you satisfied?" She nodded, speechless at last and almost
breathless from exhaustion. He bo