“Here she comes!” he breathed, and the heavy door was open, revealing the usual interior, with ledgers, and a fairsized steel money-vault, which also came open a moment later.  Flint glanced over the contents, and singled out from other papers two packages of letters held together by stout elastic bands, and with pencil notations on the corner of each envelope, showing the dates.  He ran over both, held up the smaller of the two, and I saw, with a grasp of inexpressible relief, the handwriting of Mary Virginia.

He locked the vault, shut the heavy door of the rifled safe, and began to gather his tools together.

“You have forgotten to put the other packages back,” I reminded him.  I was in a raging fever of impatience to be gone, to fly with the priceless packet in my hand.

“No, I’m not forgetting.  I saw a couple of the names on the envelopes and I rather think these letters will be a whole heap interesting to look over,” said he, imperturbably.  “It’s a hunch, parson, and I’ve gotten in the habit of paying attention to hunches.  I’ll risk it on these, anyhow.  They’re in suspicious company and I’d like to know why.”  And he thrust the package into the crook of his arm, along with the tools.

The light was carefully flashed over every inch of the space we had traversed, to make sure that no slightest trace of our presence was left.  As we walked through Inglesby’s office John Flint ironically saluted the life-like portrait: 

“You’ve had a ring twisted in your nose for once, old sport!” said he, and led me into the dark hall.  We moved and the same exquisite caution we had exercised upon entering, for we couldn’t afford to have Dan Jackson’s keen old ears detect footfalls overhead at that hour of the morning.  Now we were at the foot of the long stairs, and Flint had soundlessly opened and closed the last door between us and freedom.  And now we were once more in the open air, under the blessed shadow of the McCall trees, and walking close to their old weather-beaten fence.  The light was still shining in the bank, and I knew that that redoubtable old rebel of a watchman was peacefully sleeping with his gray guerilla of a marauding cat beside him.  He could afford to sleep in peace.  He had not failed in his trust, for the intruders had no designs upon the bank’s gold.  Questioned, he could stoutly swear that nobody had entered the building.  In proof, were not all doors locked?  Who should break into a man’s office and rob his safe just to get a package of love-letters—­if Inglesby made complaint?

I remember we stood leaning against the McCall fence for a few minutes, for my strength had of a sudden failed, my head spun like a top, and my legs wavered under me.

“Buck up!” said Flint’s voice in my ear.  “It’s all over, and the baby’s named for his Poppa!” His arm went about me, an arm like a steel bar.  Half led, half carried, I went staggering on beside him like a drunken man, clutching a rosary and a packet of love-letters.