CHAPTER XI
THE "PILLAR OF DEATH"
I was looking at him fixedly as the diabolical nature of what must havehappened sank into my mind. Here was a poison that defied detection. Icould see by the look on Craig's face that that problem, alone, wasenough to absorb his attention. He seemed fully to realize that we hadto deal with a criminal so clever that he might never be brought tojustice.
An idea flashed over me.
"How about the letters?" I suggested.
"Good, Walter!" he exclaimed.
He untied the package which Mrs. Northrop had given him and glancedquickly over one after another of the letters.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, fairly devouring one dated at Mitla. "Listen--ittells about Northrop's work and goes on:
"'I have been much interested in a cavern, or subterraneo, here, in theshape of a cross, each arm of which extends for some twelve feetunderground. In the center it is guarded by a block of stone popularlycalled "the Pillar of Death." There is a superstition that whoeverembraces it will die before the sun goes down.
"'From the subterraneo is said to lead a long, underground passageacross the court to another subterranean chamber which is full ofMixtec treasure. Treasure hunters have dug all around it, and it issaid that two old Indians, only, know of the immense amount of buriedgold and silver, but that they will not reveal it.'"
I started up. Here was the missing link which I had been waiting for.
"There, at least, is the motive," I blurted out. "That is why Bernardowas so reticent. Northrop, in his innocence of heart, had showed himthat inscription."
Kennedy said nothing as he finally tied up the little packet of lettersand locked it in his safe. He was not given to hasty generalizations;neither was he one who clung doggedly to a preconceived theory.
It was still early in the afternoon. Craig and I decided to drop intothe museum again in order to see Doctor Bernardo. He was not there andwe sat down to wait.
Just then the letter box in the door clicked. It was the postman on hisrounds. Kennedy walked over and picked up the letter.
The postmark bore the words, "Mexico City," and a date somewhat laterthan that on which Northrop had left Vera Cruz. In the lower corner,underscored, were the words, "Personal--Urgent."
"I'd like to know what is in that," remarked Craig, turning it over andover.
He appeared to be considering something, for he rose suddenly andshoved the letter into his pocket.
I followed, and a few moments later, across the campus in hislaboratory, he was working quickly over an X-ray apparatus. He hadplaced the letter in it.
"These are what are known as 'low' tubes," he explained. "They give out'soft rays.'" He continued to work for a few moments, then handed methe letter.
"Now, Walter," he said, "if you will just hurry back to the museum andreplace that letter, I think I will have something that will astonishyou--though whether it will have any bearing on the case, remains to beseen."
"What is it?" I asked, a few minutes later, when I had rejoined him,after returning the letter. He was poring intently over what lookedlike a negative.
"The possibility of reading the contents of documents inclosed in asealed envelope," he replied, still studying the shadowgraph closely,"has already been established by the well-known English scientist,Doctor Hall Edwards. He has been experimenting with the method of usingX-rays recently discovered by a German scientist, by which radiographsof very thin substances, such as a sheet of paper, a leaf, an insect'sbody, may be obtained. These thin substances through which the raysused formerly to pass without leaving an impression, can now beradiographed."
I looked carefully as he traced out something on the negative. On itwas easily possible, following his guidance, to read the wordsinscribed on the sheet of paper inside. So admirably defined were allthe details that even the gum on the envelope and the edges of thesheet of paper inside the envelope could be distinguished.
"Any letter written with ink having a mineral basis can beradiographed," added Craig. "Even when the sheet is folded in the usualway, it is possible by taking a radiograph stereoscopically, todistinguish the writing, every detail standing out in relief. Besides,it can be greatly magnified, which aids in deciphering it if it isindistinct or jumbled up. Some of it looks like mirror writing. Ah," headded, "here's something interesting!"
Together we managed to trace out the contents of several paragraphs, ofwhich the significant parts were as follows:
I am expecting that my friend Senora Herreria will be in New Yorkby the time you receive this, and should she call on you, I know youwill accord her every courtesy. She has been in Mexico City for a fewdays, having just returned from Mitla, where she met ProfessorNorthrop. It is rumored that Professor Northrop has succeeded insmuggling out of the country a very important stone bearing aninscription which, I understand, is of more than ordinary interest. Ido not know anything definite about it, as Senora Herreria is veryreticent on the matter, but depend on you to find out if possible andlet me know of it.
According to the rumors and the statements of the senora, it seems thatNorthrop has taken an unfair advantage of the situation down in Oaxaca,and I suppose she and others who know about the inscription feel thatit is really the possession of the government.
You will find that the senora is an accomplished antiquarian andscholar. Like many others down here just now, she has a high regard forthe Japanese. As you know, there exists a natural sympathy between someMexicans and Japanese, owing to what is believed to be a common originof the two races.
In spite of the assertions of many to the contrary, there is littledoubt left in the minds of students that the Indian races which havepeopled Mexico were of Mongolian stock. Many words in some dialects areeasily understood by Chinese immigrants. A secretary of the Japaneselegation here was able recently to decipher old Mixtec inscriptionsfound in the ruins of Mitla.
Senora Herreria has been much interested in establishing therelationship and, I understand, is acquainted with a Japanese curiodealer in New York who recently visited Mexico for the same purpose. Ibelieve that she wishes to collaborate with him on a monograph on thesubject, which is expected to have a powerful effect on the publicopinion both here and at Tokyo.
In regard to the inscription which Northrop has taken with him, I relyon you to keep me informed. There seems to be a great deal of mysteryconnected with it, and I am simply hazarding a guess as to its nature.If it should prove to be something which might interest either theJapanese or ourselves, you can see how important it may be, especiallyin view of the forthcoming mission of General Francisco to Tokyo.
Very sincerely yours,
DR. EMILIO SANCHEZ, Director.
"Bernardo is a Mexican," I exclaimed, as Kennedy finished reading, "andthere can be no doubt that the woman he mentioned was this SenoraHerreria."
Kennedy said nothing, but seemed to be weighing the various paragraphsin the letter.
"Still," I observed, "so far, the only one against whom we have anydirect suspicion in the case is the shaggy Russian, whoever he is."
"A man whom Bernardo says looked like a Russian," corrected Craig.
He was pacing the laboratory restlessly.
"This is becoming quite an international affair," he remarked finally,pausing before me, his hat on. "Would you like to relax your mind by alittle excursion among the curio shops of the city? I know somethingabout Japanese curios--more, perhaps, than I do of Mexican. It mayamuse us, even if it doesn't help in solving the mystery. Meanwhile, Ishall make arrangements for shadowing Bernardo. I want to know just howhe acts after he reads that letter."
He paused long enough to telephone his instructions to an uptowndetective agency which could be depended on for such mere routine work,then joined me with the significant remark: "Blood is thicker thanwater, anyhow, Walter. Still, even if the Mexicans are influenced bysentiment, I hardly think that would account for the interest of ourfriends from across the water in the matter."
I do not know how many of the large and small curio shops of the citywe visited that afternoon. At another time, I should have enjoyed thevisits immensely, for anyone seeking articles of beauty will find theantique shops of Fifth and Fourth Avenues and the side streets wellworth visiting.
We came, at length, to one, a small, quaint, dusty rookery, down in abasement, entered almost directly from the street. It bore over thedoor a little gilt sign which read simply, "Sato's."
As we entered, I could not help being impressed by the wealth ofarticles in beautiful cloisonne enamel, in mother-of-pearl, lacquer,and champleve. There were beautiful little koros, or incense burners,vases, and teapots. There were enamels incrusted, translucent, andpainted, works of the famous Namikawa, of Kyoto, and Namikawa, ofTokyo. Satsuma vases, splendid and rare examples of the potter's art,crowded gorgeously embroidered screens depicting all sorts of brilliantscenes, among others the sacred Fujiyama rising in the statelydistance. Sato himself greeted us with a ready smile and bow.
"I am just looking for a few things to add to my den," explainedKennedy, adding, "nothing in particular, but merely whatever happens tostrike my fancy."
"Surely, then, you have come to the right shop," greeted Sato. "Ifthere is anything that interests you, I shall be glad to show it."
"Thank you," replied Craig. "Don't let me trouble you with your othercustomers. I will call on you if I see anything."
For several minutes, Craig and I busied ourselves looking about, and wedid not have to feign interest, either.
"Often things are not as represented," he whispered to me, after awhile, "but a connoiseur can tell spurious goods. These are the realthing, mostly."
"Not one in fifty can tell the difference," put in the voice of Sato,at his elbow.
"Well, you see I happen to know," Craig replied, not the leastdisconcerted. "You can't always be too sure."
A laugh and a shrug was Sato's answer. "It's well all are not so keen,"he said, with a frank acknowledgment that he was not above sharppractices.
I glanced now and then at the expressionless face of the curio dealer.Was it merely the natural blankness of his countenance that impressedme, or was there, in fact, something deep and dark hidden in it,something of "East is East and West is West" which I did not and couldnot understand? Craig was admiring the bronzes. He had paused beforeone, a square metal fire-screen of odd design, with the title on acard, "Japan Gazing at the World."
It represented Japan as an eagle, with beak and talons of burnishedgold, resting on a rocky island about which great waves dashed. Thebird had an air of dignity and conscious pride in its strength, as itlooked out at the world, a globe revolving in space.
"Do you suppose there is anything significant in that?" I asked,pointing to the continent of North America, also in gold andprominently in view.
"Ah, honorable sir," answered Sato, before Kennedy could reply, "theartist intended by that to indicate Japan's friendliness for Americaand America's greatness."
He was inscrutable. It seemed as if he were watching our every move,and yet it was done with a polite cordiality that could not giveoffense.
Behind some bronzes of the Japanese Hercules destroying the demons andother mythical heroes was a large alcove, or tokonoma, decorated withpeacock, stork, and crane panels. Carvings and lacquer added to thebeauty of it. A miniature chrysanthemum garden heightened the illusion.Carved hinoki wood framed the panels, and the roof was supported bycolumns in the old Japanese style, the whole being a compromise betweenthe very simple and quiet and the polychromatic. The dark woods, thelanterns, the floor tiles of dark red, and the cushions of rich goldand yellow were most alluring. It had the genuine fascination of theOrient.
"Will the gentlemen drink a little sake?" Sato asked politely.
Craig thanked him and said that we would.
"Otaka!" Sato called.
A peculiar, almost white-skinned attendant answered, and a moment laterproduced four cups and poured out the rice brandy, taking his ownquietly, apart from us. I watched him drink, curiously. He took thecup; then, with a long piece of carved wood, he dipped into the sake,shaking a few drops on the floor to the four quarters. Finally, with adeft sweep, he lifted his heavy mustache with the piece of wood anddrank off the draft almost without taking breath.
He was a peculiar man of middle height, with a shock of dark, tough,woolly hair, well formed and not bad-looking, with a robust generalphysique, as if his ancestors had been meat eaters. His forehead wasnarrow and sloped backward; the cheekbones were prominent; nose hooked,broad and wide, with strong nostrils; mouth large, with thick lips, andnot very prominent chin. His eyes were perhaps the most noticeablefeature. They were dark gray, almost like those of a European.
As Otaka withdrew with the empty cups, we rose to continue ourinspection of the wonders of the shop. There were ivories of alldescriptions. Here was a two-handled sword, with a very large ivoryhandle, a weirdly carved scabbard, and wonderful steel blade. By theexpression of Craig's face, Sato knew that he had made a sale.
Craig had been rummaging among some warlike instruments which Sato,with the instincts of a true salesman, was now displaying, and hadpicked up a bow. It was short, very strong, and made of pine wood. Heheld it horizontally and twanged the string. I looked up in time tocatch a pleased expression on the face of Otaka.
"Most people would have held it the other way," commented Sato.
Craig said nothing, but was examining an arrow, almost twenty incheslong and thick, made of cane, with a point of metal very sharp butbadly fastened. He fingered the deep blood groove in the scooplike headof the arrow and looked at it carefully.
"I'll take that," he said, "only I wish it were one with the regularreddish-brown lump in it."
"Oh, but, honorable sir," apologized Sato, "the Japanese law prohibitsthat, now. There are few of those, and they are very valuable."
"I suppose so," agreed Craig. "This will do, though. You have awonderful shop here, Sato. Some time, when I feel richer, I mean tocome in again. No, thank you, you need not send them; I'll carry them."
We bowed ourselves out, promising to come again when Sato received anew consignment from the Orient which he was expecting.
"That other Jap is a peculiar fellow," I observed, as we walked alonguptown again.
"He isn't a Jap," remarked Craig. "He is an Ainu, one of the aborigineswho have been driven northward into the island of Yezo."
"An Ainu?" I repeated.
"Yes. Generally thought, now, to be a white race and nearer of kin toEuropeans than Asiatics. The Japanese have pushed them northward andare now trying to civilize them. They are a dirty, hairy race, but whenthey are brought under civilizing influences they adapt themselves totheir environment and make very good servants. Still, they are on aboutthe lowest scale of humanity."
"I thought Otaka was very mild," I commented.
"They are a most inoffensive and peaceable people usually," heanswered, "good-natured and amenable to authority. But they becomedangerous when driven to despair by cruel treatment. The Japanesegovernment is very considerate of them--but not all Japanese are."