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FRONTISPIECE BY WILL FOSTER
FRONTISPIECE BY WILL FOSTER
"There's something weird and mysterious about the robbery, Kennedy. They took the very thing I treasure most of all, an ancient Peruvian dagger." Professor Allan Norton was very much excited as he dropped into Craig's laboratory early that forenoon. Norton, I may say, was one of the younger members of the faculty, like Kennedy. Already, however, he had made for himself a place as one of the foremost of South American explorers and archaeologists. "How they got into the South American section of
16 minute read
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II
II
"I should like to have another talk with Senorita Inez," remarked Kennedy, a few minutes later, as with Dr. Leslie and Professor Norton we turned into the living room and closed the door to the den. While Norton volunteered to send one of the servants in to see whether the young lady was able to stand the strain of another interview, Dr. Leslie received a hurry call to another case. "You'll let me know, Kennedy, if you discover anything?" he asked, shaking hands with us. "I shall keep you inform
12 minute read
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III
III
"I think I'll go into the University Library," Craig remarked, as we left Norton before his building. "I want to refresh my mind on some of those old Peruvian antiquities and traditions. What the Senorita hinted at may prove to be very important. I suppose you will have to turn in a story to the Star soon?" "Yes," I agreed, "I'll have to turn in something, although I'd prefer to wait." "Try to get an assignment to follow the case to the end," suggested Craig. "I think you'll find it worth while.
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IV
IV
Norton had scarcely gone, and Kennedy was still studying the four pieces of paper on which the warning had been given, when our laboratory door was softly pushed open again. It was Senorita Mendoza, looking more beautiful than ever in her plain black mourning dress, the unnatural pallor of her face heightening the wonderful lustrous eyes that looked about as though half frightened at what she was doing. "I hope nothing has happened," greeted Kennedy, placing an easy-chair for her. "But I'm glad
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V
V
Lockwood, as we now knew, had become allied in some way with a group of Wall Street capitalists, headed by Stuart Whitney. Already I had heard something of Whitney. In the Street he was well known as an intensely practical man, though far above the average exploiter both in cleverness and education. As a matter of fact, Whitney had been far-sighted enough to see that scholarship could be capitalized, not only as an advertisement, but in more direct manners. Just at present one of his pet schemes
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VI
VI
We entered the Prince Edward Albert a few minutes later, one of the new and beautiful family hotels uptown. Before making any inquiries, Craig gave a hasty look about the lobby. Suddenly I felt him take my arm and draw me over to a little alcove on one side. I followed the direction of his eyes. There I could see young Alfonso de Moche talking to a woman much older than himself. "That must be his mother," whispered Craig. "You can see the resemblance. Let's sit here awhile behind these palms and
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VII
VII
Back again in the laboratory, Kennedy threw off his coat and plunged again into his investigation of the blood sample he had taken from the wound in Mendoza's body. We had scarcely been back half an hour before the door opened and Dr. Leslie's perplexed face looked in on us. He was carrying a large jar, in which he had taken away the materials which he wished to examine. "Well," asked Kennedy, pausing with a test-tube poised over a Bunsen burner, "have you found anything yet? I haven't had time
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VIII
VIII
"I think I will drop in to see Senorita Mendoza," considered Kennedy, as he cleared up the materials which he had been using in his investigation of the arrow poison. "She is a study to me—in fact, the reticence of all these people is hard to combat." As we entered the apartment where the Mendozas lived, it was difficult to realize that only a few hours had elapsed since we had first been introduced to this strange affair. In the hall, however, were still some reporters waiting in the vain hope
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IX
IX
Kennedy examined the anonymous letter carefully for several minutes, while we watched him in silence. "Too clever to use a typewriter," he remarked, still regarding the note through the lens of a hand-glass. "Almost any one would have used a machine. That would have been due to the erroneous idea that typewriting cannot be detected. The fact is that the typewriter is perhaps a worse means of concealing identity than is disguised handwriting, especially printing like this. It doesn't afford the e
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X
X
"I think I'll pay another visit to Whitney, in spite of all that Norton and Lockwood say about him," remarked Kennedy, considering the next step he would take in his investigation. Accordingly, half an hour later we entered his Wall Street office, where we were met by a clerk, who seemed to remember us. "Mr. Whitney is out just at present," he said, "but if you will be seated I think I can reach him by telephone." As we sat in the outer office while the clerk telephoned from Whitney's own room t
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XI
XI
"I'm afraid we've neglected the Senorita a bit, in our efforts to follow up what clues we have in the case," remarked Kennedy, as we rode uptown again. "She needs all the protection we can give her. I think we'd better drop around there, now that she is pretty likely to be left alone." Accordingly, instead of going back to the laboratory, we dropped off near the apartment of the Mendozas and walked over from the subway. As we turned the corner, far down the long block I could see the entrance to
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XII
XII
Completely at sea as a result of the unexpected revelation of the shoe-prints we had found in the Museum, and with suspicions now thoroughly aroused against Lockwood, I accompanied Kennedy to keep our appointment with the Senorita at the Prince Edward Albert. We were purposely a bit early, in order to meet Inez, so that she would not have to be alone with the Senora, and we sat down in the lobby in a little angle from which we could look into the tea room. We had not been sitting there very long
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XIII
XIII
There was not a grain of superstition in Kennedy, yet I could see that he was pondering deeply what Inez Mendoza had just said. Was it possible that there might be something in it—not objectively, but subjectively? Might that very fear which the Senorita had of the Senora engender a feeling that would produce the very result that she feared? I knew that there were strange things that modern psychology was discovering. Could there be some scientific explanation of the evil eye? Kennedy turned and
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XIV
XIV
Norton was waiting for us at the laboratory when we returned, evidently having been there some time. "I was on my way to my apartment," he began, "when I thought I'd drop in to see how things are progressing." "Slowly," returned Kennedy, throwing off his street clothes and getting into his laboratory togs. "Have you seen Whitney since I had the break with him?" asked Norton, a trifle anxiously. I wondered whether Kennedy would tell Norton what to expect from Whitney. He did not, however. "Yes,"
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XV
XV
In my absence Craig had set to work on a peculiar apparatus, as though he were distilling something from several of the cigarette stubs which he had been studying by means of the interferometer. "Here's your confounded cat," I ejaculated, as I placed the unhappy feline in a basket and waited patiently until finally he seemed to be rewarded for his patient labours. It was well along toward morning when he obtained in a test-tube a few drops of a colourless, odourless liquid. "My interferometer ga
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XVI
XVI
Perhaps an hour later our laboratory door was flung open suddenly, and both Kennedy and I leaped to our feet. There was Inez Mendoza, alone, pale and agitated. "Tell me, Professor Kennedy," she cried, her hands clasped before her in frantic appeal, "tell me—it isn't true—is it? He wasn't there—no—no—no!" She would have fainted if Craig had not sprung forward and caught her in time to place her in our only easy-chair. "Walter," he said, "quick—that bottle of aromatic spirits of ammonia over there
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XVII
XVII
"Do you believe it?" I asked Kennedy, as the voices died away, leaving us with a feeling that some one had gone out of the very room in which we were. He shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. But I cannot say that he seemed ill pleased at the result of the interview. "We'll just keep this vocaphone in," he remarked. "It may come in handy some time. Now, I think we had better go back to the laboratory! Things have begun to move." On the way back he stopped to telephone Norton to meet us and a
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XVIII
XVIII
Early the following morning Kennedy left me alone in the laboratory and made a trip downtown, where he visited a South American tobacco dealer and placed a rush order for a couple of hundred cigarettes exactly similar in shape and quality to those which Mendoza had smoked and which the others seemed also to prefer, except, however, that the deadly drug was left out. While he was gone, it occurred to me to take up again the hunt for Alfonso. Norton was not in his little office, nor could I find A
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XIX
XIX
It was not until after dinner that we heard again from Norton. He had evidently spent the time faithfully hanging about the Prince Edward Albert, but Whitney had not come in, although the Senora and Alfonso were about. "I saw them leaving the dining-room," he reported to us in the laboratory directly afterward, "just as Whitney came in. They could not see me. I took good care of that. But, say, there is a change in Whitney, isn't there? I wonder what caused it?" "It's as noticeable as that?" ask
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XX
XX
I went directly to our apartment after Craig left me and for a little while sat up, speculating on the probabilities of the case. Senora de Moche had told us of her ancestor who had been intrusted with the engraved dagger, of how it had been handed down, of the death of her brother; she had told us of the murder of the ancestor of Inez Mendoza, of the curse of Mansiche. Was this, after all, but a reincarnation of the bloody history of the Gold of the Gods? There were the shoe-prints in the mummy
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XXI
XXI
I decided that discretion was the better part of valour and that I had better go slow that day and regain my strength, a fortunate decision, as it turned out. Kennedy, also, spent most of the time in the laboratory, so that, after all, I did not feel that I was missing very much. It was along in the afternoon that the telephone began acting strangely, as it will do sometimes when a long distance connection is being made. Twice Kennedy answered, without getting any response. "Confound that centra
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XXII
XXII
It was Juanita, Inez Mendoza's maid, frantic and almost speechless. "Why, Juanita," encouraged Kennedy, "what's the matter?" "The Senorita!" she gasped, breaking down now and sobbing over and over again. "The Senorita!" "Yes, yes," repeated Kennedy, "but what about her? Is there anything wrong?" "Oh, Mr. Kennedy," sobbed the poor girl, "I don't know. She is gone. I have had no word from her since this afternoon." "Gone!" we exclaimed together. "Where was Burke—that man that the police sent up to
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XXIII
XXIII
Do you suppose he really had the dagger, or was that a lie?" I asked, with an effort shaking off the fateful feeling that had come over me as if some one were casting a spell. "There is one way to find out," returned Craig, as though glad of the suggestion. Though they hated him, they seemed forced to admit, for the time, his leadership. He rose and the rest followed as he went into Whitney's library. He switched on the lights. There in a corner back of the desk stood a safe. Somehow or other it
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XXIV
XXIV
Craig faced us, but there was no air of triumph in his manner. I knew what was in his mind. He had the dagger. But he had lost Inez. What were we to do? There seemed to be no way to turn. We knew something of the manner of her disappearance. At first she had, apparently, gone willingly. But it was inconceivable that she stayed willingly, now. I recalled all the remarks that Whitney had ever made about her. Had the truth come out in his jests? Was it Inez, not the dagger, that he really wanted? O
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XXV
XXV
"What are you doing here?" demanded Craig, astonished. "I couldn't wait for you to get back. I thought I'd do a little detective work on my own account. I kept getting further and further away, knew you'd find me, anyhow. But I didn't think you'd have a brute like that," he added, binding up his hand ruefully. "Is there any trace of Inez?" "Not yet. Why did you pick out this house?" asked Kennedy, still suspicious. "I saw a light here, I thought," answered Lockwood frankly. "But as I approached,
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