Someone was breaking in at the door of my chambers!  
I aroused myself from a state of coma almost death-like and listened to the blows. The sun was streaming in at my windows.
 
A splintering crash told of a panel broken. Then a moment later I heard the grating of the lock, and a rush of footsteps along the passage.
 
"Try the study!" came a voice that sounded like Bristol's, save that it was strangely weak and shaky.
 
Almost simultaneously the Inspector himself threw open the bedroom door—and, very pale and haggard-eyed, stood there looking across at me. It was a scene unforgettable.
 
"Mr. Cavanagh!" he said huskily—"Mr. Cavanagh! Thank God you're alive! But"—he turned—"this way, Marden!" he cried, "Untie him quickly! I've got no strength in my arms!"
 
Marden, a C.I.D. man, came running, and in a minute, or less, I was sitting up gulping brandy.
 
"I've had the most awful experience of my life," said Bristol. "You've fared badly enough, but I've been hanging by my wrists—you know Dexter's trick!—for close upon sixteen hours! I wasn't released until Carter, an office boy, came on the scene this morning!"
 
Very feebly I nodded; I could not talk.
 
"The strong-room of your bank was rifled under my ............