the lost road-第82节

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in　the　moonlight；　lost　all　sense　of　direction。

〃We're　lost；〃　said　Monica；　in　a　low　tone。　　Unconsciously　both　were
speaking　in　whispers。　　〃I　thought　we　were　following　what　used　to
be　the　main　thoroughfare　of　the　city；　but　I　have　never　seen　this　place
before。　　From　what　I　have　read　I　think　we　must　be　among　the　tombs
of　the　kings。〃

She　was　silenced　by　Everett　placing　one　hand　quickly　on　her　arm；
and　with　the　other　pointing。　　In　the　uncertain　moonlight　she　saw
moving　cautiously　away　from　them；　and　unconscious　of　their
presence；　a　white；　ghostlike　figure。

〃Peabody；〃　whispered　Everett。

〃Call　him；〃　commanded　Monica。

〃The　others　might　hear；〃　objected　Everett。　　〃We　must　overtake　him。
If　we're　with　him　when　they　meet；　they　wouldn't　dare〃

With　a　gasp　of　astonishment；　his　words　ceased。

Like　a　ghost；　the　ghostlike　figure　had　vanished。

〃He　walked　through　that　rock！〃　cried　Monica。

Everett　caught　her　by　the　wrist。　　〃Come！〃　he　commanded。

Over　the　face　of　the　rock；　into　which　Peabody　had　dived　as　into
water；　hung　a　curtain　of　vines。　　Everett　tore　it　apart。　　Concealed
by　the　vines　was　the　narrow　mouth　to　a　tunnel；　and　from　it　they
heard；　rapidly　lessening　in　the　distance；　the　patter　of　footsteps。

〃Will　you　wait；〃　demanded　Everett；　〃or　come　with　me？〃

With　a　shudder　of　distaste；　Monica　answered　by　seizing　his　hand。

With　his　free　arm　Everett　swept　aside　the　vines；　and；　Monica
following；　they　entered　the　tunnel。　　It　was　a　passageway　cleanly
cut　through　the　solid　rock　and　sufficiently　wide　to　permit　of　their
moving　freely。　　At　the　farther　end；　at　a　distance　of　a　hundred
yards；　it　opened　into　a　great　vault；　also　hollowed　from　the　rock
and；　as　they　saw　to　their　surprise；　brilliantly　lighted。

For　an　instant；　in　black　silhouette；　the　figure　of　Peabody
blocked　the　entrance　to　this　vault；　and　then；　turning　to　the
right；　again　vanished。　　Monica　felt　an　untimely　desire　to　laugh。
Now　that　they　were　on　the　track　of　Peabody　she　no　longer　feared
the　outcome　of　the　adventure。　　In　the　presence　of　the　American
minister　and　of　herself　there　would　be　no　violence；　and　as　they
trailed　the　archaeologist　through　the　tunnel　she　was　reminded　of
Alice　and　her　pursuit　of　the　white　rabbit。　　This　thought；　and　her
sense　of　relief　that　the　danger　was　over；　caused　her　to　laugh　aloud。

They　had　gained　the　farther　end　of　the　tunnel　and　the　entrance　to
the　vault；　when　at　once　her　amusement　turned　to　wonder。　　For　the
vault　showed　every　evidence　of　use　and　of　recent　occupation。　　In
brackets；　and　burning　brightly；　were　lamps　of　modern　make；　on
the　stone　floor　stood　a　canvas　cot；　saddle…bags；　camp…chairs；
and　in　the　centre　of　the　vault　a　collapsible　table。　　On　this　were
bottles　filled　with　chemicals；　trays；　and　presses　such　as　are　used
in　developing　photographs；　and　apparently　hung　there　to　dry；

swinging　from　strings；　the　proofs　of　many　negatives。

Loyal　to　her　brother；　Monica　exclaimed　indignantly。　　At　the　proofs
she　pointed　an　accusing　finger。

〃Look！〃　she　whispered。　　〃This　is　Peabody's　darkroom；　where　he
develops　the　flash…lights　he　takes　of　the　hieroglyphs！　Chester　has
a　right　to　be　furious！〃

Impulsively　she　would　have　pushed　past　Everett；　but　with　an
exclamation　he　sprang　in　front　of　her。

〃No！〃　he　commanded；　〃come　away！〃

He　had　fallen　into　a　sudden　panic。　　His　tone　spoke　of　some
catastrophe；　imminent　and　overwhelming。　　Monica　followed
the　direction　of　his　eyes。　　They　were　staring　in　fear　at　the　proofs。

The　girl　leaned　forward；　and　now　saw　them　clearly。

Each　was　a　United　States　Treasury　note　for　five　hundred　dollars。

Around　the　turn　of　the　tunnel；　approaching　the　vault　apparently
from　another　passage；　they　heard　hurrying　footsteps；　and　then；
close　to　them　from　the　vault　itself；　the　voice　of　Professor　Peabody。

It　was　harsh；　sharp；　peremptory。

〃Hands　up！〃　it　commanded。　　〃Drop　that　gun！〃

As　though　halted　by　a　precipice；　the　footsteps　fell　into　instant
silence。　　There　was　a　pause；　and　then　the　ring　of　steel　upon　the
stone　floor。　　There　was　another　pause；　and　Monica　heard　the
voice　of　her　brother。　　Broken；　as　though　with　running；　it　still
retained　its　level　accent；　its　note　of　insolence。

〃So；〃　it　said；　〃I　have　caught　you？〃

Monica　struggled　toward　the　lighted　vault；　but　around　her　Everett
threw　his　arm。

〃Come　away！〃　he　begged。

Monica　fought　against　the　terror　of　something　unknown。　　She　could
not　understand。　　They　had　come　only　to　prevent　a　meeting　between
her　brother　and　Peabody；　and　now　that　they　had　met；　Everett　was
endeavoring　to　escape。

It　was　incomprehensible。

And　the　money　in　the　vault；　the　yellow　bills　hanging　from　a
cobweb　of　strings；　why　should　they　terrify　her；　what　did　they
threaten？　Dully；　and　from　a　distance；　Monica　heard　the　voice
of　Peabody。

〃No；〃　he　answered；　〃I　have　caught　you！　And　I've　had　a　hell　of　a
time　doing　it！〃

Monica　tried　to　call　out；　to　assure　her　brother　of　her　presence。
But；　as　though　in　a　nightmare；　she　could　make　no　sound。　　Fingers
of　fear　gripped　at　her　throat。　　To　struggle　was　no　longer　possible。

The　voice　of　Peabody　continued：

〃Six　months　ago　we　traced　these　bills　to　New　Orleans。　　So　we　guessed
the　plant　was　in　Central　America。　　We　knew　only　one　man　who　could
make　them。　　When　I　found　you　were　in　Amapala　and　they　said　you　had
struck　'buried　treasure'the　rest　was　easy。〃

Monica　heard　the　voice　of　her　brother　answer　with　a　laugh。

〃Easy？〃　he　mocked。　　〃There's　no　extradition。　　You　can't　touch　me。
You're　lucky　if　you　get　out　of　here　alive。　　I've　only　to　raise　my　voice〃

〃And；　I'll　kill　you！〃

This　was　danger　Monica　could　understand。

Freed　from　the　nightmare　of　doubt；　with　a　cry　she　ran　forward。
She　saw　Peabody；　his　back　against　a　wall；　a　levelled　automatic　in
his　hand；　her　brother　at　the　entrance　to　a　tunnel　like　the　one　from
which　she　had　just　appeared。　　His　arms　were　raised　above　his　head。
At　his　feet　lay　a　revolver。　　For　an　instant；　with　disbelief；　he　stared
at　Monica；　and　then；　as　though　assured　that　it　was　she；　his　eyes
dilated。　　In　them　were　fear　and　horror。　　So　genuine　was　the　agony
in　the　face　of　the　counterfeiter　that　Everett；　who　had　followed；
turned　his　own　away。　　But　the　eyes　of　the　brother　and　sister
remained　fixed　upon　each　other；　hers；　appealingly；　his；　with
despair。　　He　tried　to　speak；　but　the　words　did　not　come。　　When
he　did　break　the　silence　his　tone　was　singularly　wistful；　most
tenderly　kind。

〃Did　you　hear？〃　he　asked。

Monica　slowly　bowed　her　head。　　With　the　same　note　of　gentleness
her　brother　persisted：

〃Did　you　understand？〃

Between　them　stretched　the　cobweb　of　strings　hung　with　yellow
certificates；　each　calling　for　five　hundred　dollars；　payable　in　gold。
Stirred　by　the　night　air　from　the　open　tunnels；　they　fluttered　and
flaunted。

Against　the　sight　of　them；　Monica　closed　her　eyes。　　Heavily；　as
though　with　a　great　physical　effort；　again　she　bowed　her　head。

The　eyes　of　her　brother　searched　about　him　wildly。　　They　rested　on
the　mouth　of　the　tunnel。

With　his　lowered　arm　he　pointed。

〃Who　is　that？〃　he　cried。

Instinctively　the　others　turned。

It　was　for　an　instant。　　The　instant　sufficed。

Monica　saw　her　brother　throw　himself　upon　the　floor；　felt　herself
flung　aside　as　Everett　and　the　detective　leaped　upon　him；　saw　her
brother　press　his　hands　against　his　heart；　the　two　men　dragging
at　his　arms。

The　cavelike　room　was　shaken　with　a　report；　an　acrid　smoke
assailed　her　nostrils。　　The　men　ceased　struggling。　　Her　brother　lay
still。

Monica　sprang　toward　the　body；　but　a　black　wave　rose　and
submerged　her。　　As　she　fainted；　to　save　herself　she　threw　out　her
arms；　and　as　she　fell　she　dragged　down　with　her　the　buried
treasure　of　Cobre。

Stretched　upon　the　stone　floor　beside　her　brother；　she　lay　motionless。
Beneath　her；　and　wrapped　about　and　covering　her；　as　the　leaves
covered　the　babes　in　the　wood；　was　a　vast　cobweb　of　yellow　bills；
each　for　five　hundred　dollars；　payable　in　gold。


A　month　later　the　harbor　of　Porto　Cortez　in　Honduras　was　shaken
with　the　roar　of　cannon。　　In　comparison；　the　roaring　of　all　the　cannon
of　all　the　revolutions　that　that　distressful　country　ever　had　known；
were　like　fire…crackers　under　a　barrel。

Faithful　to　his　itinerary；　the　Secretary　of　State　of　the　United　States
was　paying　his　formal　visit　to　Honduras；　and　the　President　of　that
republic；　waiting　upon　the　Fruit　Company's　wharf　to　greet　him；　was
receiving　the　salute　of　the　American　battle…ships。　　Back　of　him；　on
the　wharf；　his　own　barefooted　artillerymen　in　their　turn　were　saluting；
excitedly　and　spasmodically；　the　distinguished　visitor。　　As　an　honor
he　had　at　last　learned　to　accept　without　putting　a　finger　in　each　ear；
the　Secretary　of　State　smiled　with　gracious　calm。　　Less　calm　was　the
President　of　Honduras。　　He　knew　something　the　Secretary　did　not
know。　　He　knew　that　at　any　moment　a　gun　of　his　saluting　battery
might　turn　turtle；　or　blow　into　the　harbor　himself；　his　cabinet；　and
the　larger　part　of　his　standing　army。

Made　fast　to　the　wharf　on　the　side　opposite　to　the　one　at　which
the　Secretary　had　landed　was　one　of　the　Fruit　Company's　steamers。
She　was　on　her　way　north；　and　Porto　Cortez　was　a　port　of　call。
That　her　passengers　might