A fine dust of steel fell to the deck of the alleyway as the blade sank deeper into the tempered metal. ‘You’re nearly through‚’ Bristow said. ‘Pity we couldn’t find the key. It’d have been easier.’ Keeton went on sawing and suddenly the blade was through. The strong-room was theirs. They levered off the severed padlock, swung the heavy iron door open and went in. Bristow rubbed his hands. ‘Well, here it is, Charlie. Now we’ll really know what kind of secret machinery we’ve got.’ The cases had been carefully stacked, wedged tightly into position, so that the rolling and tossing of the ship had scarcely disturbed them. They eased one of them from the stack, thrust a spike under the lid and ripped it off. Inside were bars of yellow metal – gold. Keeton lifted one bar out and laid it on the deck. They both stared at it, fascinated. It lay on the iron floor of the strong-room and the light coming in through the doorway seemed to make it glow with warmth.
