room, the bank in absolute silence, and his head so light and dizzy he could scarcely stand when he sprang out of bed.

He glanced at the alarm clock on the mantelpiece. The alarm was set for six, the hour at which Eustace almost invariably awakened. He had no recollection of hearing it ring that morning, yet only a touch was required to show that it had gone off at the proper time.

His wife still lay in deepest slumber.

"Jess! Jess!" he cried, as he shook her. "Wake up, Jess! It's nearly ten o'clock. Wake up! Wake up!"

She stirred heavily, uneasily, drowsily.

"Wake up! Wake up!" he repeated. "Look what time it is."

She sat up with a gasp, pressing her hands to her head.

"Oh, what is it?" she exclaimed. "My head! How it throbs!"

"It's nearly ten o'clock," Eustace cried. "I don't hear anyone moving. The bank must be open in five minutes."

He hurried across the landing to his assistant's room and unceremoniously opened the door.

His assistant was in bed in a heavy sleep.

"Harding! Fred! Wake up, man! Do you know what time it is?" he said, as he grabbed the sleeper's arm and shook him so vigorously that he pulled him half out of bed.

Sleepily Harding's eyelids lifted to reveal glazed and lack-lustre eyes.

"What's up?" he mumbled. "What's the matter now?"

"Look at the time," Eustace cried excitedly.

Harding pushed his hand under his pillow, raised himself on his arm and flung the pillow over.

"Where's my watch?" he exclaimed. "Where has it gone?"

"Don't you hear me say it is nearly ten o'clock? What on earth do you mean by sleeping to this hour when the bank ought to be open?"

Harding blinked at his pyjama-clad manager.

"You don't seem to have been up so very long," he grumbled. "But where's my jolly watch gone? I'll swear I put it under my pillow last night. Are you having a joke? Have you hidden it?"

"I have not touched your watch. I tell you it's ten o'clock and the bank——"

"Then someone has stolen it," Harding exclaimed as he sat up.

The pupils of Eustace's eyes contracted to pinpoints. With an inarticulate cry he dashed from the room and rushed to the stairs. He heard his wife call from the servant's room but paid no heed to the words.

Down the stairs he plunged, springing across the passage to the door leading from the residential portion of the building to the banking chamber.

The door was locked.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "I was afraid it had been broken into."

He ran upstairs again, meeting his wife at the top.

"I can't wake that girl, Charlie. What shall I do?" she said.

"Shy cold water over her," he answered abruptly as he went on to his room, where he seized his clothes and fumbled nervously for his keys.

They were in the pocket where he always kept them.

The discovery reassured him. Whatever else had happened, the bank was safe, for without the keys no one would be able to get at the cash. It was curious how everyone in the house had overslept themselves, but that was a detail to be unravelled subsequently. For the moment he must race into his clothes and be downstairs in time to have the bank's doors open to the public by ten.

He was nearly dressed when Mrs. Eustace returned to the room.

"Charlie, whatever has happened? Bessie can hardly stand. She's exactly as if she had been drinking."

"Oh, don't bother me about Bessie," he said petulantly. "It's ten o'clock, and the bank is not open."

He pushed past her and sped down the stairs. Despite his efforts to recover his confidence, his hand still trembled as he unlocked the door leading to the bank and entered the office.

One quick glance round set his mind at ease. The place was in the same state of neatness and order as when he and Harding locked up the night before.

He crossed to the street door, unlocked and unbolted it and pulled it open. As he did so, Harding came in through the private entrance.

"I say, Eustace, hang it, what have you done with that watch?" he asked. "It's not in my room. Where have you put it?"

"I have not seen your watch. Make haste and get the safes open and the books out. Look at the time," Eustace replied sharply.

The keys of the big safe, or strong-room, as they termed it, were kept in a smaller one, to which there were two keys, Eustace and Harding each holding one. The last vestige of fear passed from Eustace's mind as the keys of the strong-room were found lying in their usual place. He sighed with relief as Harding picked them up, unlocked the heavy door and, swinging the handles, threw the strong-room open.

The tray on which the cash had been placed after balancing the previous evening was in a small upper compartment resting on the books. It was the usual practice for Harding to remove it and hand it over to Eustace, who checked the contents while the books and documents necessary for the day's work were being arranged.

But Eustace was too impatient to wait for the ordinary methods. As Harding pushed back the safe doors and bent down to remove the keys, he reached over him and caught hold of the tray.

Instead of being heavy, as it should have been with all the gold, silver and copper coins, it came away in his hands light—and empty!

His face went livid. He reeled back against the counter, letting the tray fall to the floor.

"Gone!" he cried. "The money's gone!"

Harding started up and stood staring, first at Eustace, then at the tray lying on the floor.

"Gone?" he echoed. "Gone? How can it have gone?"

"It has—the tray is empty," Eustace gasped in reply.

Harding looked from the tray to the open safe. His glance rested on the drawer where the bank-notes were kept. He took hold of the handle and pulled the drawer out.

It was empty.

In an inner recess, guarded by second-locked doors, the gold reserve was kept. The night before the bags of gold had filled it to the doors.

Harding tried the handles. They held. The locks had not been forced.

"Have you the keys of the reserve?" he asked.

With shaking hands Eustace produced them and stood watching, as the doors were unlocked and swung open.

The recess was as empty as the cash tray.

Dumbfounded, Harding turned to Eustace who, with his face ashen, stared blankly at the empty recess. Then a wild light leapt in his eyes and he seized the handle of a drawer in the counter where a loaded revolver was kept lest at any moment an attempt was made to rob the bank during office hours.

Harding sprang to his side and gripped his arm.

"Not that," he cried hoarsely. "Hang it, man, pull yourself together. Think of your wife!"

"It's ruin—ruin for me. Better finish it," Eustace muttered.

Holding him back with one hand, Harding pulled the drawer open with the other to take the revolver away. But the drawer was also empty.

"That has gone as well," he cried, letting go his hold of Eustace as he stooped to peer into the drawer.

Eustace sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh, this is terrible—terrible," he moaned. "Terrible, terrible."

The door leading to the house was flung open and Mrs. Eustace faced them.

"Charlie!" she exclaimed. "My rings and jewellery have vanished. The cases are all empty. I am certain—why, what is the matter?" she broke off to ask as she caught sight of her husband.

She glanced from him to Harding.

"What has happened?" she said wonderingly, as she advanced further into the office.

Opposite the open doors of the strong-room she saw the empty cash tray lying on the floor, the note drawer pulled out, the vacant space