went by. Half instinctively Iwatched the clock on the mantelpiece; and still the hunchback made nosign, but stood half huddled over the fire, his gaze obstinately fixedon the flames.
I remember now how breathlessly I watched that terrific conflict betweenthose two men of extraordinary position, influence, and power,--and Iremember, too, thinking how it was all the more deadly and impressivebecause it was all so silent. One heard nothing, absolutely nothing, inthat old back parlour but the steady tick-tick of antique clocks in theshop adjacent, the puff of the MP's cigar, and the quick, labouredbreathing of the grotesque figure poised near the fender.
CHAPTER SIX.
THE SACRED SECRET.
Had I ever been tempted, indeed, to think that the mission which DonJose Casteno had confided to me was some small matter of a collector'sgain, I should not have done so after the part I played as sole witnessof this wordless drama. The very atmosphere of the room was pregnantwith mysterious suggestion of the tremendous issues that were hangingthen in the balance. I knew at last, with as much certainty as though Ihad read the documents themselves, that these manuscripts that haddropped so carelessly from the hands of a dead monk into all thehurly-burly of a commonplace auction room were precious records thataffected the lives, the happiness, the fortunes of thousands.
Again the problem stated itself: Who would triumph? And again I had towait, for neither Peter Zouche nor John Cooper-Nassington would make anysign.
Suddenly, though, the dwarf stood up and fixed his eager, burning,avaricious eyes on me. "You, Mr Glynn," he snapped, "are a man whoknows as much about old manuscripts as most folks. I have seen yourcollection, and, for one who has had no means to speak of, you have doneexceedingly well. Why don't you tell this big, bullying, aggressivefriend of ours what those three deeds contained? You were employed bysome peculiar people to get possession of them, no matter what the costmight be. You received very explicit instructions about them. You madea clever fight for them."
"And," I broke in sternly, "you, sir, filled the room with a `knock out'of dirty, hungry aliens from Whitechapel; and, when I grew dangerous,you and your friends did not scruple to hound me down and kidnap me.That was the way you put me out of competition and snatched yourbeggarly triumph, but you know as well as I do that I am ignorant of theprecise contents or qualities of the documents which I was employed tomake such a strenuous battle for."
"But, sir," he sneered, rolling back his lips and showing his toothlessgums, "think of that beautiful sign outside your office: `Mr HughGlynn, Secret Investigator!' why, nothing should be hidden from you!"And he threw out his hands with a gesture of infinite comprehensivenessand burst into a loud and offensive mocking laugh.
"Nor will this thing be a mystery to me long," I retorted boldly, risingand striking the top of the table with my clenched fist. "You, PeterZouche, understand that! At present I am merely a private soldierobeying the orders of a superior officer, but, by heaven! if it were notso, and I were free to handle this affair in the manner that suited mebest, do you fancy you would be able to play with me like you did at theauction mart in Covent Garden, that I would walk meekly out of your shopafter I had been kicked and buffeted and imprisoned, and that I wouldcome here almost immediately afterwards and let you do your level bestto jeer at me and sneer at me and treat me as a dolt or a child? No!"I thundered, "ten thousand thousand times no!
"Luckily," I went on in a more subdued voice, "fate has given me a sharein this mystery, and as soon as I am free of all the honourableobligations which I have undertaken you may be sure I shall be here tobe reckoned with. Sooner or later I will make you bitterly regret thischeap scoffing of yours at my qualifications as a professionaldetective. I know that wonderful secrets about buried treasures andcompacts between states and churches and individuals, lie hidden inthose old manuscript deeds that are often left kicking about as so muchidle lumber in garret and cellar and office. Nobody in London, indeed,knows better; and I will track this precious secret of yours down--"
"Enough," struck in Cooper-Nassington in his most terrible tones. "You,Glynn, have now justified yourself. It's the hunchback's turn. Onceagain I demand of him: What has he deciphered from those threequeer-looking manuscripts which he purchased this afternoon?"
Peter Zouche faltered; to my astonishment I saw that he had beenconquered.
"You know well enough what they contain," he snarled, "or you would notbe here at this hour, and in this mood!"
"And so do you, you wicked old cripple," roared my friend, "or you wouldnever have spent all that money on packing that auction mart with yourgang of foreign mercenaries to effect a knock-out of the manuscripts;you are not the kind of philanthropist who throws away two or threethousand pounds on the relatives of a poor Spanish priest whom you havenever set eyes on. So speak out without any more fuss. Are they what Ihave been led to expect?"
"They are," the hunchback muttered, licking his dry and feverish lips;"but it will take me two or three weeks to decode them. I was lookingat them when you came and knocked at the door with that cursedall-compelling signal of yours. Why the deuce didn't you leave me inpeace for a time?"
"Because I wanted to be sure I had been correctly informed, of course,"retorted the Member of Parliament gaily, rising and brushing the cigarash off his waistcoat. "In fact, in a word, I shall assume now that youhave got possession of the documents that give the key to the positionand the drainage of the Lake of Sacred Treasure in Tangikano, which wasfor centuries the depository of the treasures of the original tribes ofMexico, and which has been believed always, upon quite credibleevidence, to contain gold and precious stones to the amount of manymillions sterling."
"Yes; that is so," conceded Zouche, with a sigh.
"What!" I cried, unable to stifle my excitement at hearing thisextraordinary piece of news. "Do you mean to say there has beendiscovered at last that wonderful Mexican lake over which England nearlywent to war with Spain in the days of Elizabeth, a secret that wassupposed to be known only to the Jesuits, who lost in some miraculousfashion all the documents bearing on the subject nearly three hundredyears ago?"
"I do," replied the hunchback. "What did you think when I took suchextraordinary precautions at the auction this afternoon?--that I wassimply playing up for some quaint and curious cryptogram? Bah! men ofmy reputation don't fling one thousand eight hundred pounds about forchildish puzzles like those."
"So I might have guessed," I added to myself a little bitterly. "Iought to have realised something of the sort was afoot, but, as youknow, we collectors of manuscripts have known so long about thesewonderful missing records that we have actually grown tired of lookingout for them, and some of the best and wisest of us have gone so far asto doubt their very existence."
"Well, you need not," observed the Member of Parliament genially, fixinghis hat upon his head firmly. "Prescott, in his `Conquest of Mexico,'sets out the facts about the Lake of Sacred Treasure in Tangikano withgreat clearness. I remember, very well, he explains that it must besomewhere about the centre of the uninhabited portion of Mexico and thatits dimensions are not too formidable to tackle for unwatering, beingabout only one thousand two hundred feet long by one thousand feet wideon the surface, but the greatest depth has not been fathomed. It isknown to stand at a height of about ten thousand feet above sea level.Indeed, its depths are reputed to have been regarded as sacred to theirgods by a numerous aboriginal population long before the appearance ofthe Jesuits in that part of the world."
"But why," I queried, "is the value of its treasure always so firmlyinsisted on?"
"Because," replied he, "in connection with their religious rites theaboriginals habitually made offerings to the deities of the lake in theform of gold dust, golden images, and emeralds, the most famous emeraldmines of the world being situated in the heart of Mexico. Indeed,Prescott says that this particular gem was held as sacred by the earlytribes inhabiting Mexico as being the emblem of the sun, they themselvesbeing sun-worshippers. More than th
at, their king, who was also theirpontiff, was in the habit of being completely covered with gold dust soapplied as to cause him to shine with great lustre like the rays of thesun. In brief, he was the real `El Dorado' of whom we have heard somuch and seen so little; and, as his principal religious ceremony, hewas wont to perform his ablutions from a raft in the centre of the lake,until the whole of the precious metal was washed away. Thisaccomplished, the king, and the chiefs who were with him, made a rule ofthrowing costly offerings into the water."
"Better than that," struck in the hunchback, almost with enthusiasm, "Ihave just been turning over an article in the _South American Journal_on this very
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