you gonna do to me? Who are you guys, anyhow? Why’re you sticking your bills in this—”
“Get in, please.”
The man stumbled into the six-by-six cage, looking more dead than alive.
“What are you gonna do to me? You turn me over to the cops! You hear? If you don’t—”
“You can shout as loudly as you like,” said Benson. “The place is thoroughly soundproofed. But I’d advise you not to.”
He went back to the others, with the caged man’s awed and panic-glazed eyes following his lithe body and smooth tiger tread.
Benson drew out the list he had gotten from Doolen.
“Here,” he said, “are the men who accompanied Professor Gray on his last trip. Some one of them—perhaps more than one—must know what this is all about.”
He read the list aloud:
“Michael Bower, retired manufacturer; Basil Doolen, importer; Olin Chandler, engineer; Rex Orto, Jr., no occupation; Harry Armitage, sales manager; John Sanderson, manufacturer; Cole Tega, advertising artist; Alec Knight, student; Mortimer Barker, physician.”
Benson glanced at Nellie Gray.
“You needn’t answer if you don’t want to, Miss Gray. We can go ahead without any help. But you might tell me if this list is complete or if any have been left out.”
Nellie stared a long time into the gray eyes, like pale ice in a polar dawn. You could fairly see her thinking it out:
This is a world of greed. No one does anything unless he’s going to get something out of it. Therefore, Benson must be mixing in because he expects a reward. His claim that he is only doing it to help the cause of justice is, by all logic, silly.
And yet—she was beginning to think, foolish as it sounded, that he was really on the level.
“The list is complete,” she said, in a low, troubled tone.
Benson nodded.
“Three of these,” he said, “have little check marks after them, meaning that on the expedition they were the particular intimates of Professor Gray. The three are Dr. Barker, Olin Chandler, and Alec Knight. Right, Miss Gray?”
The girl nodded, uncertain, still not knowing how much trust to place here.
“Dr. Barker has been our personal physician for years. Olin Chandler has worked with Columbia, and with dad, on Aztec stuff, and was on an expedition with dad two years before, in Yucatan. Al Knight is a brilliant student working his way through Columbia now. They were the three father knew best. Two were with him when he discovered—”
She stopped abruptly.
“When he discovered what?” said Benson. “The bricks?”
She would not answer. She had gone as far as she dared go, at the moment.
What was her secret, that it was so gigantic she dared not, even yet, lift a corner of the veil of mystery for Benson to gaze at?
The pale-gray flames of eyes turned from her face to the faces of MacMurdie and Smitty.
“Mac, call on Rex Orto and Harry Armitage. Smitty, visit John Sanderson and Cole Tega. Learn from them what you can. I’ll take Professor Gray’s three intimates—Olin Chandler, Dr. Barker, and Alec Knight. Then we’ll all get together and see what we’ve turned up.”
A sound, methodical plan. But even the plans of Dick Benson, The Avenger, could fail if the proper factors—beyond any human influence—appeared.
One such factor being death—
CHAPTER VII
Hollow Hieroglyphs
Dr. Mortimer Barker had cut and run.
Bower was so frightened for his personal safety after the murder of Professor Gray that he had fainted when Dick Benson dwelt on the subject. Doolen was frightened, but composed. Barker, it appeared, was frightened and discreet.
He had gone to Europe for a month, his assistant said, when Benson called to talk to the man.
Two phone calls—one to the American consulate in New York and one to the steamship company—verified the statement that Barker was on a ship and fleeing from danger at the moment. So Benson discarded the worthy physician as a possible source of information and went to see Olin Chandler.
Chandler was
“Get in, please.”
The man stumbled into the six-by-six cage, looking more dead than alive.
“What are you gonna do to me? You turn me over to the cops! You hear? If you don’t—”
“You can shout as loudly as you like,” said Benson. “The place is thoroughly soundproofed. But I’d advise you not to.”
He went back to the others, with the caged man’s awed and panic-glazed eyes following his lithe body and smooth tiger tread.
Benson drew out the list he had gotten from Doolen.
“Here,” he said, “are the men who accompanied Professor Gray on his last trip. Some one of them—perhaps more than one—must know what this is all about.”
He read the list aloud:
“Michael Bower, retired manufacturer; Basil Doolen, importer; Olin Chandler, engineer; Rex Orto, Jr., no occupation; Harry Armitage, sales manager; John Sanderson, manufacturer; Cole Tega, advertising artist; Alec Knight, student; Mortimer Barker, physician.”
Benson glanced at Nellie Gray.
“You needn’t answer if you don’t want to, Miss Gray. We can go ahead without any help. But you might tell me if this list is complete or if any have been left out.”
Nellie stared a long time into the gray eyes, like pale ice in a polar dawn. You could fairly see her thinking it out:
This is a world of greed. No one does anything unless he’s going to get something out of it. Therefore, Benson must be mixing in because he expects a reward. His claim that he is only doing it to help the cause of justice is, by all logic, silly.
And yet—she was beginning to think, foolish as it sounded, that he was really on the level.
“The list is complete,” she said, in a low, troubled tone.
Benson nodded.
“Three of these,” he said, “have little check marks after them, meaning that on the expedition they were the particular intimates of Professor Gray. The three are Dr. Barker, Olin Chandler, and Alec Knight. Right, Miss Gray?”
The girl nodded, uncertain, still not knowing how much trust to place here.
“Dr. Barker has been our personal physician for years. Olin Chandler has worked with Columbia, and with dad, on Aztec stuff, and was on an expedition with dad two years before, in Yucatan. Al Knight is a brilliant student working his way through Columbia now. They were the three father knew best. Two were with him when he discovered—”
She stopped abruptly.
“When he discovered what?” said Benson. “The bricks?”
She would not answer. She had gone as far as she dared go, at the moment.
What was her secret, that it was so gigantic she dared not, even yet, lift a corner of the veil of mystery for Benson to gaze at?
The pale-gray flames of eyes turned from her face to the faces of MacMurdie and Smitty.
“Mac, call on Rex Orto and Harry Armitage. Smitty, visit John Sanderson and Cole Tega. Learn from them what you can. I’ll take Professor Gray’s three intimates—Olin Chandler, Dr. Barker, and Alec Knight. Then we’ll all get together and see what we’ve turned up.”
A sound, methodical plan. But even the plans of Dick Benson, The Avenger, could fail if the proper factors—beyond any human influence—appeared.
One such factor being death—
CHAPTER VII
Hollow Hieroglyphs
Dr. Mortimer Barker had cut and run.
Bower was so frightened for his personal safety after the murder of Professor Gray that he had fainted when Dick Benson dwelt on the subject. Doolen was frightened, but composed. Barker, it appeared, was frightened and discreet.
He had gone to Europe for a month, his assistant said, when Benson called to talk to the man.
Two phone calls—one to the American consulate in New York and one to the steamship company—verified the statement that Barker was on a ship and fleeing from danger at the moment. So Benson discarded the worthy physician as a possible source of information and went to see Olin Chandler.
Chandler was
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