Then he turned to confront the three hours' wait. He poked the smouldering fire of soft prairie coal, gave Jennings a cigar, and was about to pull the old-fashioned brass bell crank that more cheer might be added to the factitious comfort he sought to create in the room, when Jennings, meditatively scratching his head, said:
"Bill, where's them notes o' yourn?"
"Why, in the treasury, I suppose."
"Well, you'll have to get some one who can open the vaults fer you to-night."
Grigsby's brow darkened, and the small cheerfulness that had begun to adumbrate itself in his face faded quite away.
"That's so—I hadn't thought of that."
He pondered heavily and then said, the old note of fear in his tone:
"Has that vault a time lock?"
"I reckon."
They were silent.
"Well," said Grigsby presently, breaking the silence, "I'll have to get Mendenhall." Mendenhall was the assistant state treasurer, and was counted among the adherents of Grigsby.
