Graff doesn't stop making those useless phone calls. You've given him long
enough, Talcott!"
Snapping his fingers, Talcott called:
"Homer!"
The man who appeared looked like Talcott's echo. Stoop-shouldered, bowing,
Homer fitted the term in voice as well as manner.
"It's time to close up," said Talcott. "Get busy right away, Homer."
"Time to close up," echoed Homer. "I'll get busy right away, sir."
"And bar all the windows."
"Bar all the windows."
As Homer went about his duty, Talcott turned toward the office, saying he
would hurry Graff. Arms folded, Benisette kept staring at the chest of Chu Chan
until suddenly, he wheeled toward Margo, with sharp query:
"Would Graff be phoning Cranston?"
"I don't think he could be," replied Margo. "I'm sure Lamont went out of
town, too."
"Then why are you here?"
"Only because - well because Lamont was interested in the chest."
"You mean he's coming here to bid against me?"
"Well, hardly, since it's so late."
Benisette's eyes narrowed in fierce style.
"Maybe you're the one who is keeping this place open," he declared. "If I
thought you were -"
Homer was leaving, having bolted all the metal-shuttered windows that
turned this room into the equivalent of a vault. The glare in Benisette's eyes
was just too much for Margo to face alone.
"I'll talk to Mr. Talcott," she said, hurriedly. "Maybe he can rush things.
Good evening, Mr. Benisette."
Reaching the office, Margo looked back to see Benisette still staring after
her. With a flaunt of his folded arms, Mr. Red-Beard turned toward the open
chest of Chu Chan, just by way of ignoring the girl's glance.
In the little office, Margo found Graff setting the telephone on its stand
with one hand while he mopped his forehead with the other. Talcott was standing
by, registering impatience.
"No luck," declared Graff. "If I could only reach Shebley -"
"It's too late," put in Talcott. "We can't keep Benisette waiting any
longer."
"But I'm sure Shebley will pay ten thousand! If he'd only left a note for
me!"
"You're sure he didn't?"
"I looked around for one, but there wasn't any. Now listen, Talcott -"
Talcott listened, but not to Graff. Instead, he and the others heard an
enormous bellow that could only have come from the rear room. It was Benisette,
howling the limit of his patience in terms uncomplimentary to Graff.
"Sold for five thousand dollars," announced Talcott. "If you want to buy
the chest, talk to its present owner, Simon Benisette."
Considering the trouble to which Talcott had been put, Margo could pardon
his rather bitter jest at Graff's expense. Oddly, though, Graff didn't consider
it in a light vein.
"Talk to Benisette!" he repeated. "Say, that's really an idea, Talcott."
