Mazomanie, 1855. The only man who knew the combination boarded the westbound train with the ledger key in his pocket, and the bank opens Monday at six. Five locks stand between you and an honest morning. You are not stealing anything. It is your bank. That is the embarrassing part.
Turn the dial with the arrow keys, and turn slowly when it matters: the needle whispers when you are close, and says nothing at all when you spin. Space seats the number. On a touch screen, drag the dial and tap the hub. The watchman forgives four mistakes a night.