into Texas, past the customs men. He took two himself—the ones that were stolen when he was murdered. He gave one to Dr. Barker to handle for him, another to a young fellow named Knight, and the third—to me.”
“Now,” said Benson, “we’re getting somewhere. As a great favor—if you’re sure enough of me to trust me that far—I’d like you to let me see that brick.”
Chandler got up. He began to pace slowly back and forth across his office. Finally he stopped in front of Benson with a troubled look on his face.
“I’m sure enough of you, after all the things Rhodes has told me about you. But—I haven’t got the brick.”
“You haven’t got it? You gave it back to Gray?”
“No. Gray hadn’t asked me for it before he died. I was still keeping it, waiting to hear from him. I told you a man was waiting in my apartment for me last night, and questioned me? Well, that man got the brick. As soon as he had gone out a rear window behind me, I ran to the place where I’d hidden the brick. It wasn’t there.”
Benson drew a deep breath.
“I understand there was Aztec picture writing on the bricks. If I could have just a glimpse of one of them—”
“There,” said Chandler unexpectedly, “I can help you out.”
On his desk, acting as a paper weight, was a perfect little cannon. A miniature of a field piece as complete in all its parts as the clever model boats that many men build as a hobby. Chandler lifted the little toy and took the top envelope from a pile of several envelopes held down by it.
Benson saw the name Krupp on the little cannon.
The envelope had a transparent window on it, as do envelopes that contain bills. The printing on it showed that it was a firm manufacturing mechanical-drawing instruments.
But the way Chandler handled it indicated that there was something in the envelope far more important than a bill for mechanical-drawing tools. That was just a blind.
“I’m trusting you right down to the ground in showing you this,” Chandler said. “But I think I can.”
“You can,” said Benson quietly.
Chandler took out a sheet of paper. It was covered by lines of little ideographs, the picture writing of the Aztecs.
“This,” said Chandler, “is an exact copy of the hieroglyphs on that brick Gray had me keep for him. I copied them off just in case something should happen to the brick.”
“Can you read this?” said Benson, pale flames of eyes traveling over the cryptic lines.
“Hardly!” said Chandler, smiling a little. “I’m interested in the Aztecs—went on two expeditions to their ruins—because they were such marvelous old city planners. I got ideas for my own modern work. I’m not nearly advanced enough to know their writing! Not many men are.”
“May I copy this?” said Benson.
Chandler thought for a moment. Then he said slowly: “I think I’ll do better than that. I think I’ll let you take the list itself. Since the brick itself, with that writing on it, has fallen into the wrong hands, there is no longer such an urgent reason for keeping the whole thing secret. Although I didn’t show even the police that sheet of paper you hold in your hand.”
“It’s much appreciated,” said Benson.
He got up, only of average size but impressive, with his silver-white hair and white, dead face, as few men are impressive.
“I’ll return this shortly,” he said. “Meanwhile, take plenty of precautions about your safety. There seems to be a menace over all who went on that last expedition. As an intimate of Professor Gray, perhaps you are in danger even more than the others.”
Chandler’s smile went crooked and humorless.
“Good advice—but I don’t need it. My hide is very precious to me. I’ll guard it, all right!”
Benson went to the address of Alec Knight, the one young student taken with Professor Gray on that final archaeological expedition—and the third of the dead man’s intimates on the trip.
Knight was obviously in meager
“Now,” said Benson, “we’re getting somewhere. As a great favor—if you’re sure enough of me to trust me that far—I’d like you to let me see that brick.”
Chandler got up. He began to pace slowly back and forth across his office. Finally he stopped in front of Benson with a troubled look on his face.
“I’m sure enough of you, after all the things Rhodes has told me about you. But—I haven’t got the brick.”
“You haven’t got it? You gave it back to Gray?”
“No. Gray hadn’t asked me for it before he died. I was still keeping it, waiting to hear from him. I told you a man was waiting in my apartment for me last night, and questioned me? Well, that man got the brick. As soon as he had gone out a rear window behind me, I ran to the place where I’d hidden the brick. It wasn’t there.”
Benson drew a deep breath.
“I understand there was Aztec picture writing on the bricks. If I could have just a glimpse of one of them—”
“There,” said Chandler unexpectedly, “I can help you out.”
On his desk, acting as a paper weight, was a perfect little cannon. A miniature of a field piece as complete in all its parts as the clever model boats that many men build as a hobby. Chandler lifted the little toy and took the top envelope from a pile of several envelopes held down by it.
Benson saw the name Krupp on the little cannon.
The envelope had a transparent window on it, as do envelopes that contain bills. The printing on it showed that it was a firm manufacturing mechanical-drawing instruments.
But the way Chandler handled it indicated that there was something in the envelope far more important than a bill for mechanical-drawing tools. That was just a blind.
“I’m trusting you right down to the ground in showing you this,” Chandler said. “But I think I can.”
“You can,” said Benson quietly.
Chandler took out a sheet of paper. It was covered by lines of little ideographs, the picture writing of the Aztecs.
“This,” said Chandler, “is an exact copy of the hieroglyphs on that brick Gray had me keep for him. I copied them off just in case something should happen to the brick.”
“Can you read this?” said Benson, pale flames of eyes traveling over the cryptic lines.
“Hardly!” said Chandler, smiling a little. “I’m interested in the Aztecs—went on two expeditions to their ruins—because they were such marvelous old city planners. I got ideas for my own modern work. I’m not nearly advanced enough to know their writing! Not many men are.”
“May I copy this?” said Benson.
Chandler thought for a moment. Then he said slowly: “I think I’ll do better than that. I think I’ll let you take the list itself. Since the brick itself, with that writing on it, has fallen into the wrong hands, there is no longer such an urgent reason for keeping the whole thing secret. Although I didn’t show even the police that sheet of paper you hold in your hand.”
“It’s much appreciated,” said Benson.
He got up, only of average size but impressive, with his silver-white hair and white, dead face, as few men are impressive.
“I’ll return this shortly,” he said. “Meanwhile, take plenty of precautions about your safety. There seems to be a menace over all who went on that last expedition. As an intimate of Professor Gray, perhaps you are in danger even more than the others.”
Chandler’s smile went crooked and humorless.
“Good advice—but I don’t need it. My hide is very precious to me. I’ll guard it, all right!”
Benson went to the address of Alec Knight, the one young student taken with Professor Gray on that final archaeological expedition—and the third of the dead man’s intimates on the trip.
Knight was obviously in meager
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