All you know is that we wanted a scientific fellow who doesn't use his profession exclusively for the benefit of humanity. Also one without any nerves. I've always heard that of you."
Garth nodded, smiling a little to himself. Lack of nerves had been the inspector's chief requisite. Now the criminals demanded the same quality. He stood, as it were, between two deadly fires. He wondered if murder was on the boards. He recalled the slip of white paper in his pocket, questioning if he would be able to finger it, to scratch upon it those vital invisible directions before these sharp and overcurious eyes.
The slender man hurried on, glancing at his watch.
"We're waiting for one more. At first all you have to do is to keep close to George. We're going to crack a safe."
His voice colored apologetically.
"No jewelry or bags of gold. George falls for that cheap stuff now and then, but you needn't be ashamed of this job, Simmons. By the way, I don't have to ask you if you duck your lid every time the band blats 'Oh, say, can you see!'"
Garth shook his head.
"Say, Simmons," George broke in, "you talk yourself to death. That explosion must have hurt your voice something fierce."
Again Garth tried to approximate the croaking tone he had heard at the bridge.
"Talk's as cheap and easy as cracking safes."
