Gold of the Gods

  XIV

  THE INTERFEROMETER

  Norton was waiting for us at the laboratory when we returned, evidentlyhaving been there some time.

  "I was on my way to my apartment," he began, "when I thought I'd dropin to see how things are progressing."

  "Slowly," returned Kennedy, throwing off his street clothes and gettinginto his laboratory togs.

  "Have you seen Whitney since I had the break with him?" asked Norton, atrifle anxiously.

  I wondered whether Kennedy would tell Norton what to expect fromWhitney. He did not, however.

  "Yes," he replied, "just now we had an appointment with Senora de Mocheand some others and ran into him at the hotel for a few moments."

  "What did he say about me?" queried Norton.

  "He hadn't changed his mind," evaded Kennedy. "Have you heard anythingfrom him?"

  "Not a syllable. The break is final. Only I was wondering what he wastelling people about me. He'll tell them something--his side of thecase."

  "Well," considered Kennedy, as though racking his brain for some remarkwhich he remembered, while Norton watched him eagerly, "I do recallthat he was terribly sore about the loss of the dagger, and seemed tothink that it was your fault."

  "I thought so, I knew it," replied Norton bitterly. "I can see itcoming. All the trustees will hear of my gross negligence in lettingthe Museum be robbed. I suppose I ought to sit up there all night. Oh,by the way, there's another thing I wanted to ask you. Have you everdone anything with those shoe-prints you found in the dust of the mummycase?"

  I glanced at Kennedy, wondering whether he felt that the time had cometo reveal what he had discovered. He said nothing for a moment, butreached into a drawer and pulled out the papers, which I recognized.

  "Here they are," he said, picking out the original impression which hehad taken.

  "Yes," repeated Norton, "but have you been able to do anything towardidentifying them?"

  "I found it rather hard to collect prints of the shoes of all of thoseI wished to compare. But I have them at last."

  "And?" demanded Norton, leaning forward tensely.

  "I find that there is one person whose shoe-prints are precisely thesame as those we found in the Museum," went on Kennedy, tossing overthe impression he had taken.

  Norton scanned the two carefully. "I'm not a criminologist," he saidexcitedly, "but to my untrained eye it does seem as though you had herea replica of the first prints, all right." He laid them down and lookedsquarely at Kennedy. "Do you mind telling me whose feet made theseprints?"

  "Turn the second over. You will see the name written on it."

  "Lockwood!" exclaimed Norton in a gasp as he read the name. "No--youdon't mean it."

  "I mean nothing less," repeated Kennedy firmly. "I do not say whathappened afterwards, but Lockwood was in the Museum, hiding in themummy case, that night."

  Norton's mind was evidently working rapidly. "I wish I had your powerof deduction, Kennedy," he said, at length. "I suppose you realize whatthis means?"

  "What does it mean to you?" asked Kennedy, changing front.

  Norton hesitated. "Well," he replied, "it means to me, I suppose, whatit means to any one who stops to think. If Lockwood was there, he gotthe dagger. If he had the dagger--it was he who used it!"

  The inference was so strong that Craig could not deny it. Whether itwas his opinion or not was another matter.

  "It fits in with other facts, too," continued Norton. "For instance, itwas Lockwood who discovered the body of Mendoza."

  "But the elevator boy took Lockwood up himself," objected Craig, morefor the sake of promoting the discussion than to combat Norton.

  "Yes--when he 'discovered' the thing. But it must have been done longbefore. Who knows? He may have entered. The deed might have been done.He may have left. No one saw him come or go. What then more likely tocover himself up than to return when he knew that his entrance would beknown, and find the thing himself?"

  Norton's reasoning was clever and plausible. Yet Kennedy scarcelynodded his head, one way or the other.

  "You were acquainted with Lockwood?" he asked finally. "I mean to say,of course, before this affair."

  "Yes, I met him in Lima just as I was starting out on my expedition. Hewas preparing to come to New York."

  "What did you think of him then?"

  "Oh, he was all right, I suppose. He wasn't the sort who would caremuch for an archaeologist. He cared more for a prospector going offinto the hills than he did for me. And I--I admit that I am impossible.Archaeology is my life."

  Norton continued to study the prints. "I can hardly believe my eyes,"he murmured; then he looked up suddenly. "Does Whitney know aboutthis--or Lockwood?"

  Kennedy shook his head negatively.

  "Because," pursued Norton, "an added inference to that I spoke of wouldbe that the reason why they are so sure that they will find thetreasure is that they are not going on tradition, as they say, but onthe fact itself."

  "A fair conclusion," agreed Craig.

  "I wish the break could have been postponed," continued Norton. "Then Imight have been of some service in my relation to Whitney. It's toolate for me to be able to help you in that direction now, however."

  "There is something you can do, though," said Craig.

  "I shall be delighted," hastened Norton. "What is it?"

  "You know Senora de Moche and Alfonso?"

  "Yes."

  "I wish that you would cultivate their acquaintance. I feel that theyare very suspicious of me. Perhaps they may not be so with you."

  "Is there any special thing you want to find out?"

  "Yes--only I have slight hopes of doing so. You know that she is onmost intimate terms with Whitney."

  "I'm afraid I can't do much for you, then. She'll fight shy of me.He'll tell her his story."

  "That will make no difference. She has already warned me against him.He has warned against her. It's a most remarkable situation. He istrying to get her into some kind of deal, yet all the time he is afraidshe is double-crossing him. And at the same time he obeys her--well,like Alfonso would Inez if she'd only let him."

  Norton frowned. "I don't like the way they hover about Inez Mendoza,"he remarked. "Perhaps the Senora is after Whitney, while her son isafter Inez. Lockwood seems to be impervious to her. Yes, I'll undertakethat commission for you, only I can't promise what success I'll have."

  Kennedy restored the shoe-prints to the drawer.

  "I think that's gratifying progress," went on Norton. "First we knowwho stole the dagger. We know that the dagger killed Mendoza. You haveeven determined what the poison on the blade was. It seems to me thatit remains only to determine who struck the actual blow. I tell you,Kennedy, Whitney will regret the day that he ever threw me over on sotrivial a pretext."

  Norton was pacing up and down excitedly now.

  "My only fear is," he went on, "what the shock of such a thing will beon that poor little girl. First her father, then Lockwood. Why--theblow will be terrible. You must be careful, Kennedy."

  "Never fear about that," reassured Craig. "Not a word of this has beenbreathed to her yet. We are a long way from fixing the guilt of themurder; inference is one thing, fact another. We must have facts. Andthe facts I want, which you may be able to get, relate to the strangeactions of the de Moches."

  Norton scanned Kennedy's face for some hint of what was back of theremark. But there was nothing there.

  "They will bear watching, all right," he said, as he rose to go. "OldMendoza was never quite the same after he became so intimate with her.And I think I can see a change in Whitney."

  "What do you attribute it to?" asked Kennedy, without admitting that ithad attracted his attention, too.

  "I haven't the slightest idea," confessed Norton.

  "Inez is as afraid of her as any of the rest," remarked Kennedythoughtfully. "She says it is the evil eye."

  "Not an uncommon belief among Latin-Americans," commented Norton. "Infact, I suppose there a
re people among us who believe in the evil eyeyet. Still, you can hardly blame that little girl for believing it isalmost anything. Well, I won't keep you any longer. I shall let youknow of anything I find out from the de Moches. I think you are gettingon remarkably."

  Norton left us, his face much brighter than it had been when we met himat the door.

  Kennedy, alone at last in the laboratory, went over to a cabinet andtook out a peculiar-looking apparatus, which seemed, as nearly as I candescribe it, to consist of a sort of triangular prism, set with itsedge vertically on a rigid platform attached to a massive stand ofbrass.

  "Norton seems to have suddenly become quite solicitous of the welfareof Senorita Mendoza," I hazarded, as he worked over the adjustment ofthe thing.

  Kennedy smiled. "Every one seems to be--even Whitney," he returned,twisting a set-screw until he had the alignment of the various parts ashe wanted it.

  The telephone bell rang.

  "Do you want to answer it?" I asked Craig.

  "No," he replied, not even looking up from his work. "Find out who itis. Unless it is something very important say I am out on aninvestigation and that you have heard from me; that I shall not beeither at the laboratory or the apartment until tomorrow morning. Imust get this done to-night."

  I took down the receiver.

  "Hello, is this Professor Kennedy?" I recognized a voice.

  "No," I replied. "Is there any message I can take?"

  "This is Mr. Lockwood," came back the information I had alreadyguessed. "When do you expect him?"

  "It's Lockwood," I whispered to Craig, my hand over the transmitter.

  "See what he wants," returned Craig. "Tell him what I told you."

  I repeated Kennedy's message.

  "Well, that's too bad," replied Lockwood. "I've just seen Mr. Whitney,and he tells me that Kennedy and you are pretty friendly with Norton,Of course, I knew that. I saw you at the Mendozas' together the firsttime. I'd like to have a talk with him about that man. I suppose he hastold you all his side of the story of his relations with Whitney."

  I am, if anything, a good listener, and so I said nothing, not eventhat he had better tell it to Kennedy in the morning, for it was such anovelty to have any of these people talk voluntarily that I reallydidn't much care whether I believed what they said or not.

  "I used to know him down in Lima, you know," went on Lockwood. "What Iwant to say has to do with that dagger he says was stolen. I want totell what I know of how he got it. There was an Indian mixed up in itwho committed suicide--well, you tell Kennedy I'll see him in themorning."

  Lockwood rang off, and I repeated what he had told me, as Kennedycontinued to adjust the apparatus.

  "Say," I exclaimed, as I finished. "That was a harry's of a commissionyou gave Norton just now, watching the de Moches. Why, they'd eat himalive if they got a chance, and I don't know that all's like a Sundayschool on his part. Lockwood doesn't seem to think so."

  Kennedy smiled quietly. "That was why I asked him to do it," hereturned. "I thought that he wouldn't let much escape him. They allseem so down on him, he'll have to watch out. It will keep him busy,too, and that means a chance for us to work."

  He had finished setting up the machine, and now went over to anotherdrawer, from which he took the envelope of stubs which we had takendown at Whitney's office first. Then from the pocket of his street coathe drew both the second envelope of ashes and stubs, the wholecigarette from Lockwood's case, and the stubs which both of us hadsaved from the cigarettes that had once belonged to Mendoza.

  Carefully he separated and labelled them all, so that there would be nochance for them to get mixed up. Then he picked up one of the stubs andlighted it. The smoke curled up in wreaths between a powerful light andthe peculiar instrument, while Craig peered through a lens,manipulating the thing with exhaustless patience and skill. I watchedhim curiously, but said nothing, for he was studying somethingcarefully, and I did not want to interrupt his train of thought.

  Finally he beckoned me over. "Can you make anything out of that?" heasked.

  I looked through the eye-piece, also. On a sort of fine grating all Icould see was a number of strange lines.

  "If you want an opinion from me," I said, with a laugh, "you'll have totell me first what I am looking at."

  "That," he explained, as I continued to gaze, "is one of the latestforms of the spectroscope, known as the interferometer, with delicatelyruled gratings in which power to resolve the straight, close lines inthe spectrum is carried to the limit of possibility. A small watch isdelicate. But it bears no comparison to the delicacy of thesedefraction spectroscopes.

  "Every substance, you know, is, when radiating light, characterized bywhat at first appears to be almost haphazard sets of spectral bandswithout relation to one another. But they are related by mathematicallaws, and the apparent haphazard character is only the result of ourlack of knowledge of how to interpret the results."

  He resumed his place at the eye-piece to check over his results.

  "Walter," he said finally, looking up at me with a twinkle in his eye,"I wish that you'd go out and find me a cat."

  "A cat?" I repeated.

  "Yes, a cat--felis domesticus, if it sounds better that way--a plain,ordinary cat."

  I jammed on my hat and, late as it was, sallied forth on thisapparently ridiculous mission.

  Several belated passers-by and a policeman watched me as though I werea house-breaker, and I felt like a fool, but at last, by perseveranceand tact, I managed to capture a fairly good specimen of the species,and carried it in my arms to the laboratory with some profanity andmany scratches.