this Midnight Masquer that held them intently. Perhaps some were inclined to think him a jester, one of the party masquerading under the famous bandit's guise; if so, his last words to Maillard had removed all such thought. That indictment had been deadly and terrible—and true, as they knew. Bob Maillard was not greatly admired by those among his father's friends who best knew him.
Now the door of the safe swung open. The compartments appeared empty.
"Take out the drawers and turn them up over the table," commanded the Masquer.
Maillard obeyed. He took several of the small drawers, and all proved to be empty; this development drew a dry chuckle from Jachin Fell. Then, from the last drawer, there fell out on the table a large envelope, sealed. The Masquer leaned forward, seized upon this envelope, and crushed it into his pocket.
"Thank you," he observed. "That is all."
"Damn you!" cried Maillard, shaking a fist. "You'd try blackmail, would you?"
The bandit regarded him a moment, then laughed.
