The Mystery of the Steel Disc | Page 5

should we dissemble? You are evidently
very well informed in this matter. Did Smith flop and put up those
bonds to go long on Overland? He made a pretty penny if he did.
Honestly, is that the way he played fast and loose with us?"
I remained standing and put on my hat to further signify that I was
about to go.
"Mr. Steele, to tell the truth, I did not know until a moment ago that J.
R. Farrington Smith is president of the Municipal Bank. You have just
informed me."
He became very stiff in his manner, and turned to his papers as if
already thinking of them, and said quietly:
"Oh, then we are talking to no purpose. Good morning, Mr. Duncan."
By a short cut and a brisk walk up Nassau Street I reached the Park
Row drug store on the minute of the half hour. A man was in the
telephone booth talking, and just outside the half-open door was Rand,
directing the queries that the man was making. The stranger was
evidently the man from Mahler's. As I approached Rand motioned me
to silence.
"Well, my books show the number is D186N," the safe man was saying;
"we have no record of complaints or repairs back to '94. Have you any
before that?--All right, I'll hold the wire.--Hello, yes. You have none at
all. Now, what is the pattern of the time-lock?--Neilson patent,
yes.--Well, who superintended the Secret Construction Room when this
one was made?--The old man himself, eh?--Where is Neilson

now?--How long has he been dead?--Well, was his brother-in-law
working with him in 1890?--Wait a moment--"
He kept the receiver to his ear and turned to Rand.
"Is there anything else you wish me to ask, Mr. Rand?"
"Inquire if there has ever been any trouble with any D class vaults. That
will be all."
The safe man repeated the question into the 'phone; received the answer,
hung up the receiver, turned around and said:
"None but an attempt to blow one open in the Produce Exchange in
Springfield. It failed. He says the man who controlled the secret
measurements on that set of vaults was the patentee of the time-lock
and he is dead. The measurements are sealed and filed. The patents
went to his brother-in-law, who worked with him, who sold them
outright to the company for a song."
"What was his name?" asked Rand, with disappointment in his voice
and manner.
"They have no record and do not remember. He was just a drunken
thick-headed Swede."
When Rand was paying the telephone toll the clerk figured on the rate
to Cincinnati, so I knew they had been talking to the Mahler offices at
the factory. I told Rand just what had happened in Steele's office, and
he smiled slightly and said:
"Well, well, the lost bonds or others have been used as collateral for a
week past, eh, and Farrington Smith was on the wrong side of the
markets. I do not think Rhodes will 'do any time' if he is clever. I have
learned that he was a favorite employee of Smith's. Let us go over to
the Municipal."
At the bank, the man from Mahler's spoke a moment to the cashier and

received his permission to show the vault to "two prospective
customers," and a boy was sent to tell Rhodes that the visitors had been
accorded the courtesy.
As we passed the president's inner office door, I saw Smith at his desk
and noticed how pale and careworn he appeared. I saw that Rand
observed it also.
Rhodes admitted us to the enclosure, and, according to Rand's previous
instructions, gave us no sign of recognition. Rand and the man from
Mahler's examined the interior of the electrically lighted vault. The safe
man tapped the floor all around with the stick he carried, sounding for
concealed tunneling, but the inspection was unfruitful. The place was in
perfect order, and the lock responded repeatedly to the safe man's
skilled touch in a way that showed it was in excellent condition. Rand
had been standing still, looking carefully at everything within range of
his keen eyes, stroking his silver-touched hair lightly with one hand in
a way I have observed many times since.
Suddenly he pulled out his watch, looked at the dial of the time-lock,
then at his watch, then at the bank clock, an electrically regulated affair
hung on the wall. The Clock read 2 P. M. to the second.
"I beg pardon," said Rand to Rhodes. "What time is it by your watch?"
Rhodes took out his timepiece, and said: "I have two o'clock flat."
I now noticed that the dial of the time-lock stood 1.58:30.
"When did you notice that the clock of the time-lock was slow?"
"It