"
Sharp, with a dexterous skill, removed the fastenings of a shutter, and
then the window yielded readily to his touch. He stepped inside; Arch
followed. All was quiet, save the heavy ticking of the old clock on the
hall stairs. Up the thickly carpeted stairway, along the corridor they
passed, and Sharp stopped before a closed door.
"We must pass through one room before reaching that where the safe is
which contains the treasure," he said, in a whisper. "It is possible that
there may be some one sleeping in that room. If so, leave them to me,
that is all."
He opened the door with one of a bunch of keys which he carried, and
noiselessly entered. The gas was turned down low, but a mellow radiance
filled the place. A bed stood in one corner, and Sharp advanced toward
it. The noise he had made, slight though it was, aroused the occupant,
and, as she started up in affright, Arch met the soft, pleading eyes of
Margie Harrison. She spoke to him, not to Sharp.
"Do not let him kill me!"
Sharp laid a rough hand on her shoulder, and put a knife at her throat.
Simultaneously, Arch sprang upon him like a tiger.
"Release that girl!" he hissed. "Dare to touch her with but the tips of
your fingers, and by Heaven I will murder you!"
Sharp sprang back with an oath, and at the same moment a pistol-shot rang
through the house, and Sharp, bathed in blood, fell to the floor.
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