But I've done it before.

Say, half an hour of gentle persuasion.

It would be too bad to crack it with 'soup'-- besides, that's crude--Carruthers would never forgive the Gray Seal for that!" The light went out--blackness fell.

Jimmie Dale's slim, sensitive fingers closed on the dial's knob, his head touched the steel front of the safe as he pressed his ear against it for the tumblers' fall.
And then silence.

It seemed to grow heavier, that silence, with each second--to palpitate through the quiet house--to grow pregnant, premonitory of dread, of fear--it seemed to throb in long undulations, and the stillness grew LOUD.