"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 249 - Five Ivory Boxes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

probed deftly among the many squares that formed its pattern. Quite suddenly, the lid of the cube sprang
open.

Inside was a second box, that Talbor removed. It was similar to the first, except in size, being about two
inches smaller. Removing the second box, Talbor played his fingers along its surface. In the same
surprising fashion, the second box came open.

A third box was within. Again, Talbor operated it deftly, to open it and produce a fourth. Therewith, his
action was repeated, until the fourth box, springing wide, disgorged a fifth, which, according to Talbor's
own tabulation, must be the final one.

It was the fifth box, small enough to be cupped between his loose-spread hands, that Talbor handled
with the greatest care.

Talbor's eyes were quick and darty as they roved the group, seeking to capture other gazes. When he
was satisfied on that point, Talbor pressed a hidden spring; the fifth box came wide, and its owner
chuckled as he placed it on the table, beside the others that he had taken from the nest.

No wonder Talbor chuckled.

Gleaming from the final box was a great ruby, so glorious a gem that no one could have mistaken it for
anything but genuine. This was the prize that all had expected, an object so rare and valuable that
Talbor's comment on the ivory boxes amounted to no more than idle banter.

"The pride of the Orient!" gloated Talbor. "The great Siamese ruby that once graced an emperor's
crown! Our ruby, gentlemen!" Shrewdly, his eyes roved the group. "I should say 'mine,' until you have
paid me the stipulated price of fifty thousand dollars each, toward joint ownership."

There was a buzz of indignation from the group, rising to individual voices, all expressing the same
protest. The price was not fifty thousand apiece. Before his trip to the Orient, Talbor had agreed to
acquire and deliver the matchless ruby for the sum total of fifty thousand dollars. His present claim was a
false one, an outright misrepresentation of the facts.

To all this, Talbor listened, his face set in an adamant smile that told he would not yield the point at issue.
Only Talbor's eyes moved, as he checked upon the indignant faces that confronted him.

These partners in Talbor's venture were behaving in the individual style that he expected.

FIRST: Wilbur Glenlake. His tone had a rumble that suited his glowering, bulldog face, with its
underslung jaw. Glenlake was a successful man of business, who had retired after a career in which he
had constantly forced his indomitable will upon lesser associates. He was trying such tactics with Talbor,
at present, but they wouldn't work.

A contrast was Laird Trevose. He was the professional type, a criminal lawyer who had matched wits
with the best of prosecutors. His eyes were sharp, his voice persuasive, though his features, thin and dry,
retained a poker-faced attitude. He thought he could outwit Talbor, but he would learn that he couldn't.

The third man, Jonathan Philmont, had been a professor in his time. His face was roundish, both studious
and reflective. His eyes had a kindly, puzzled gaze through the beribboned glasses that adorned his nose.
But Philmont was neither generous nor bewildered. He was out for all that he could get, and Talbor knew