"
"Drop on your face, Alan," whispered Ned, "and lie flat."
It was the only precaution they could take. Both felt that all
their plans might end in a moment. But Ned could not resist
watching--even though his face was close to the floor. He saw
Jellup examine each key, guess the right one at once and then insert
it in the lock. Yet, despite his assumed bravado, it was apparent
that the man had considerable apprehension. For, before he turned
the lock, he motioned to Domingo to retire further with the candle.
Finally, as if summoning his courage, the avaricious marshal snapped
the key, threw back the catches on each end of the crate and then
slowly and gingerly and at arm's length began to lift the lid. With
the top an inch ajar he paused, waited a moment or two, and then
began sniffing as if searching for an odor.
Ned saw him.
"It doesn't smell," he explained quickly, "but it's there. Look
out!"
"Don't smell!" retorted Jellup. "Gas as don't smell? Well, that's
agoin' some, I guess."
Nevertheless, he had dropped the lid.
But as quickly recovering himself he reached forward again and with
a quick motion threw the top up and sprang back.
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