'Will you take the chance?' Fennel demanded.
'Sure, if you will.'
'Then let's go.'
They moved silently into the corridor, leaving Gaye still sitting on the bed. A few minutes later, they were descending in the lift. When they reached the vaulted chamber, Garry pointed to the TV lens in the ceiling.
'There it is.'
Fennel moved under the lens and peered at it. Then he sucked in a deep breath.
'It's not operating.'
'Sure?'
'Yeah.'
Garry wiped his sweating hands on the seats of his shorts.
'There's the door to the museum. Do you want me to do anything?'
Fennel went to the door and examined the dial and the lock.
'No . . . just leave it to me. It's going to take time, but I can get it open.' He opened his tool kit and laid out a selection of tools on the floor. Garry went over to a high-backed leather chair and sat down. He lit a cigarette and tried to contain his impatience.
Fennel worked carefully, whistling softly under his breath. His body concealed what he was doing, and after a while, Garry got bored watching his broad back, and getting up, he began to pace up and down. He smoked one cigarette after another and continually looked at his watch. After an hour had dragged by, he paused in his pacing to ask. 'How's it coming?'
'I've neutralized the time switch,' Fennel said, sitting back on his heels and wiping his forehead with his arm. 'That's the worst part of the job behind us. Now, I've got to tackle the lock itself.'
Garry sat down and waited.
Another hour dragged by, then Fennel gave a little grunt.
'I've done it!' he exclaimed.
Garry joined him at the door.
'Quicker than you thought.'
'Just luck. I've been five hours on one of these goddamn locks before now.' He stood up and pulled the door open. 'Do you know where the ring is?'
'I'll take you to it.'
Fennel hastily repacked his tool bag and together the two men moved into the picture gallery. Going ahead, Garry entered the second room and made for the lighted alcove. Then he paused, experiencing a sense of shock. The pedestal was there, but the glass box and the ring were missing.
'What is it?' Fennel demanded.
'It's gone!' Garry licked his dry lips. 'That's where it was . . . it's gone! I thought . . .'
He stopped short as he saw Fennel, his face twitching, was staring at the wide archway from which they had come into this room from the picture gallery.
Standing in the archway, wearing only leopard skins, were four giant Zulus, each holding a broad-bladed stabbing spear, their cruel, fierce black eyes fixed on the two startled men.
One of them said in guttural English. 'You come with us.'
'What they call a fair cop,' Garry said and moved towards the Zulus.
Fennel hesitated, but he knew they hadn't a chance against these four giants. Cursing softly, he picked up his tool bag and moved after Garry.
As the minutes crawled by, Gaye became more and more uneasy and restless. She prowled around the luxurious lounge wondering how Fennel was getting on. It was now nearly two hours since they had left the lounge. She kept telling herself Fennel had said it might be a four hour job. She wished now she had gone with them. This
