the dark-eyed face of a yellow ivory statue that smiled; the next that image was
gone, and she was staring at Lamont across the breakfast table.
There was something very calm in Cranston's countenance. At times, it was
like a statue too. Only it was the other way about: Cranston wasn't a statue
that came to life; he was a living man who could become singularly immobile when
he chose. At present, his eyes carried a restful gaze as they studied Margo from
a face that was vaguely hawklike.
"Have another cup of coffee," suggested Cranston. "If it doesn't wake you,
you'd better go back to bed. Meanwhile tell me anything else of interest."
Margo couldn't think of anything else. She didn't consider the face in the
cab window important enough, because Margo was charging that incident to
imagination. Her waking dream confused itself with last night and since the face
belonged to both, it would be silly to even mention it. Besides, Lamont wasn't
interested in the Siamese dancer statue. He wanted to know more about the chest
of Chu Chan.
"The deal is closed," assured Margo. "Benisette is paying five thousand
dollars for the chest and Talcott has already given him the key. But Benisette
will have to send a truck for the chest! It's too big to put in a cab."
"Too big," mused Cranston, "and perhaps too heavy?"
"Very probably," replied Margo. "Nobody tried to lift it while I was there,
but it looked like a three man job."
Cranston's mood was speculative. Margo knew that he was visualizing the
mysterious chest of Chu Chan.
"Only five thousand dollars," calculated Cranston, slowly. "If the chest is
worth anything, it's worth more than that - perhaps far more."
"Graff offered ten thousand -"
"Of Shebley's money," Cranston's slight smile was reminiscent. "Only
Shebley wasn't around to back it up."
"If he had been," opined Margo, "Benisette might have boosted the bid. Why,
he had a bank roll of more than fifty thousand dollars and he said that today
he'd be carrying double that amount."
"Benisette always deals in cash," nodded Cranston, "but I don't think he'd
bid higher on the chest."
"And why not?"
"Because I don't think he knows how much it is really worth."
"How much is that?"
"I don't know." Again Cranston gave a rare smile. "That's why I don't think
that Benisette knows."
That statement cleared Margo's mind, so far as Benisette was concerned.
Obviously the bearded buyer wanted the chest purely as a desirable antique. In
contrast, Graff the speculator probably rated the chest on the basis of some
secret value. So Margo put the question:
"Does Graff know?"
"Do you mean does he know what the chest is really worth?" asked Cranston.
"I don't think so, although he may. He managed to convince Shebley that the
chest was worth plenty, but he wouldn't have told everything if he knew all. It
wouldn't be Graff's way."
Having met Graff, Margo agreed with Cranston's verdict. Cranston amplified
it a moment later.
"Graff is playing a hunch, a long shot, or both," declared Cranston. "His
