They gaped at him.

“Whilst you’re shouting amongst your trash a man is dying on the other side of the door!”

Vona leaped from her chair.  She shrieked.  She ran to the door and beat her fists against the steel, futilely and furiously.

“In there lies your money-changer, I tell you, Pharaoh, lord of Egypt,” the Prophet shouted.  “I hear his groans!”

Britt and Starr rushed to the vault and both of them strove clumsily and ineffectually with the mechanism, giving up their attempts after a few moments.

“It’s no use!” Britt gulped.  “The time lock must be on.”

“Oh, for the rod of Moses and the ancient faith that smote the rock in twain!” pleaded the Prophet.

“We’d better use rendrock, seeing that we can’t depend on a miracle,” called a practical citizen from behind the grille.

“Get sledge hammers and chisels,” shouted somebody else, and there followed a surging of the throng, indicating that concerted action was following the suggestion.

The face of the president was twisted by grimaces which resembled spasms.  “Wait!  Wait a moment!  There may be a way!” he called, chokingly.  “Let me out through there!”

Then Vona gave over her insane efforts to pry open the vault door with her finger nails.  She ran out past Starr, who stopped to lock the grille door.  The examiner was too much taken up by other matters to bother with the Prophet, who held to his place at the vault door and was intently scrutinizing something which he found of interest.

Vona forced herself through the press, in company with Starr, and was at Britt’s elbow when he unlocked his office door.  He tried to keep her out and called to Dorsey.  But she slipped past while the door was open to admit Starr’s bulky form.  Inside, she turned on Britt, who was in the doorway.

“You don’t dare to keep me out, Mr. Britt!” She stamped her foot.  Her eyes blazed.  “You don’t dare!”

He blinked and entered and locked the door.

CHAPTER XV

VIA THE PRESIDENT’S PRIVATE WAY

There was a hanging lamp in Britt’s office, and the president hastened to light it.

“Do you mean to say that there’s another way of entering that bank vault?” Starr demanded when Britt began to twirl the knob of a steel door that guarded his private vault.  “I’m beginning to think that the fellow who wrote on that placard had this joint sized up mighty well.”

Britt went on with the working of the combination.  He was deeply stirred; his excitement had made his temper touchy.  “I know of no reason why the president of a bank isn’t allowed access to the vault.”

“Perhaps not, under proper conditions, but we’ll discuss that matter later, Britt.  Right now I’m all-fired glad you can get in.”  He sneered when he added, “Perhaps a regular, time-locked vault does need a safety outlet.  I may recommend it for all state banks.”