Doctor Diamond, in his long Wellington boots and overcoat, was
descending the steep hill into Horsford village one gloomy afternoon
with Aggie at his side.
It had been raining, and the pair had been across the meadows to
Overton, a small hamlet where, from a farmhouse, they obtained their
weekly supply of butter. This, the fair-haired child, her clean white
pinafore appearing below her navy-blue coat, carried in a small basket
upon her arm. She had been dancing along merrily at the little man’s
side, delighted to be out with him for a walk, when, as they came over
the brow of the hill, they saw a man in a long drab mackintosh ascending
in their direction.
The man raised his hand to them, but at first Diamond did not recognise
him. Then, as they drew nearer, he said:
“Why--who’d ever have thought it! Here’s your father, Aggie!”
“Father!” echoed the girl, staring at the man approaching. “No, dad,
surely that isn’t my father! You’re my own father.” And the child,
with her fair hair falling upon her shoulders, clung affectionately to
his arm.
In a few moments the two men met.
“Hulloa, Doc!” cheerily cried the man known to his intimates as “Red
Mullet”. “Thought I’d give you a bit of a surprise. And little Aggie,
too! My hat! what a big girl she grows! Why, my darling,” he
exclaimed, bending and kissing her, “I’d never have recognised you--
never in all my life!”
Her father’s bristly red moustache brushed the child’s face, and she
withdrew bashfully.
“Ah! my pet,” cried the tall, gaunt man, “I suppose you hardly knew me--
eh? You were quite a little dot when I was here last. But though your
dad travels a lot, and is always on the move, yet he’s ever thinking of
you.” He sighed. “See here!” And diving his hand into his
breast-pocket, he took out a well-worn leather wallet which contained a
photograph. “That is what your other dad sent to me last year! Your
picture, little one.”
The child exchanged glances with the Doctor, still clinging to his arm.
To her, Doctor Diamond was her father. She loved him, for he was always
kind to her and always interested in her childish pleasure. True the
payments made by “Red Mullet” were irregular and far between, but the
ugly little man had formed a great attachment for the child, and when
not at the village school she was usually in his company.
“Your wife told me the direction from which you would come, so I thought
I’d just take a stroll and meet you,” the tall fellow said. “Horsford
does not seem to change a little bit.”
“It hasn’t changed, they say, for the past two centuries,” laughed the
Doctor. “We are quiet, steady-going folk here.” And as he spoke the
sweet-toned chimes rang forth from the square grey Norman tower on their
left, the tower to see which archaeologists so often came from far and
near.
“Well, well,” exclaimed Mullet. “I had no idea my little Aggie had
grown to be such a fine big girl. Very soon she’ll be leaving school;
she knows more about geography and grammar now than her dad does, that
I’ll be bound.”
“Mr Holmes, the schoolmaster, is loud in her praises,” remarked the
Doctor, whereat the girl blushed and smiled.
“And how would you like to go back with me, and live in Paris--eh?”
inquired the father.
In a moment, however, the child clung closer to Diamond, and, burying
her face upon his arm, burst into tears.
“No, no, dear,” declared the red-haired man. “I didn’t mean it. Why, I
was only joking! Of course you shall stay here, and finish your
education with the Doctor, who is so good and kind to you. See--I’ve
brought you something.”
And taking from his pocket a child’s plain hoop bangle in gold, he
placed it upon her slim wrist. Aggie, with a child’s pardonable vanity,
stretched forth her arm and showed the Doctor the effect. Then at the
letter’s suggestion, she raised her face and kissed her father for the
present of the first piece of jewellery she had ever possessed in her
life.
They walked back together to the cottage, and after a homely cup of tea,
“Red Mullet” sat with the Doctor in the cosy panelled dining-room, the
fire burning brightly, and the red-shaded lamp upon the table.
“I’m glad you’re pleased at the appearance of little Aggie,” remarked
the Doctor between deep puffs of his pipe. “She’s quite a sweet child.
Every one in the village loves her.”
“I wonder, Doctor, what they’d think if they knew she was my daughter--
the daughter of ‘Red Mullet’--eh?” asked the red-haired man grimly.
The Doctor pulled a wry face but did not reply. Alas, he was well aware
that Mr Mullet did not bear the best of reputations, and as a matter of
fact he was wondering the reason why he now risked a sojourn on British
soil.
“But--I--er--is that door closed?” he asked of the ugly little man as he
glanced suspiciously behind him.
The Doctor rose and latched it. Then he resumed his seat.
“The fact is, I came down here to-day for two reasons--to see little
Aggie and also to make some inquiries.”
“Inquiries!” echoed Diamond. “What about?”
“About something that concerns you,” was “Red Mullet’s” reply. “About
certain papers which belonged to a man named Blanc, who died in a little
hotel opposite the Gare du Nord.”
“I--I don’t understand you. What do you mean?” asked Diamond, with a
perceptible start.
“Come, my dear Doc, you may just as well be frank and open with me. You
know the kind of man I am. You’ve got hold of papers which don’t belong
to you--and well, all praise to you, I say, if they’re worth anything.
I don’t see why you shouldn’t deal with a dead man’s property if he
deliberately wished to destroy it.”
“How do you know all this, Mr Mullet?” asked the Doctor, his face pale
and much surprised.
“Well, my source of information don’t matter very much, does it?”
remarked the other, stretching out his long legs to the warmth of the
fire. “But I can tell you it’s lucky for you and your friends that I’ve
found out about it--or--well, I can only tell you something would have
happened--something very unfortunate.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“I don’t expect you do,” was “Red Mullet’s” reply, as he laughed
lightly. “Just be open with me, Doc, and I’ll tell you something--
something that’ll interest you, no doubt. What is the purport of this
precious document about which there’s all this fuss?”
“It’s a secret--a great and remarkable problem which, up to the present,
I’m unable to solve.”
“My dear old chap, there are a good many problems in this world which
want solving. The first of them is Woman,” laughed the other.
“Admitted. But woman doesn’t concern this particular matter.”
“That’s just where you are mistaken, Doc,” Mullet interrupted. “You
live down in this rural solitude, and you don’t know what goes on up in
London. There is a woman in the case--a woman who is very deeply
involved in it.”
“Who?”
“We can leave her out of it for the present,” replied Mullet. “I want
to know something about the document.”
Doctor Diamond hesitated. Had this man, whose reputation was so bad,
and against whom he had so often been warned, come there for the purpose
of levying blackmail? It seemed as though he had! “Well,” he answered,
“I really see no reason why we should discuss what is, after all, my own
private business, Mr Mullet.”
“I should not ask you if I had not a distinct object,” said the other.
“I may as well tell you that I’ve already acted in your interests, and
at considerable risk to myself, too,” he added.
“For which I thank you most sincerely,” responded the ugly little man,
now very much on the alert.
He was extremely puzzled to know by what means Mullet had learnt his
secret. Surely he could not have been a friend of that man who, on his
deathbed, had refused his name?
“I merely came down here to give you warning,” Mullet said. “You are
not the only person interested in the discovery.”
“I know. I have been compelled to take certain persons into my
confidence, and they will share in the profits which, we hope, will
eventually accrue.”
“I’m not speaking of your friends, Doc. I’m speaking of enemies--people
who are working actively against you.”
“Against me!” cried Diamond, starting. “Who else knows about it besides
ourselves?”
“Ah!” exclaimed Mullet, smiling. “That’s just the point. While you
possess only a few scraps of the dead man’s manuscript, those working in
opposition to you have in their possession a complete copy!”
“What!” cried the ugly little Doctor, starting up. “Then the context is
known! The whole document has been read!”
“Without a doubt. And I should have been in ignorance of your
connection with it had it not been for a pure accident,” answered
Mullet.
“Who are my enemies?” demanded the Doctor. “They are powerful--but I’m
not at liberty to mention their names. I can only say, Doctor, that if
I can help you in secret in this affair I will. There’s money in it--
lots of money--that’s my firm opinion.”
“Then you know all about it?”
“Well--I know that the discovery is one of the most remarkable of the
age, and that it seems more than likely you’ll be able to locate the
hidden treasure of Solomon’s temple. I’m not much of a classical or
Biblical scholar, but I understand that the theory has utterly staggered
certain great authorities. And as a mining engineer by profession, I’m
interested. I’ve been on more than one treasure-hunt, once in
Guatemala, and again I went out with a party prospecting three years ago
for those sunken Spanish galleons in Vigo Bay. We located nine of the
vessels by means of that new Italian invention, the hydroscope, and got
up an old cannon, several gold doubloons and silver ‘pieces of eight.’
According to authentic records in the Archives at Madrid, there are
seventeen vessels full of gold and silver lying at the bottom of the
bay, and the treasure is believed to be worth at least twenty-eight
millions sterling.”
Diamond smiled. Even that huge sum did not cause him dismay. The
treasure of Solomon’s temple would surely be worth a dozen times as
much. Besides, would not he, Raymond Diamond, become one of the most
noted men in the world if, by his instrumentality, the historic treasure
of Israel was recovered.
“A company has been formed to work the Vigo treasure. They asked me to
join them,” “Red Mullet” went on. “It’s a tempting business, but I have
other matters to attend to just now. I wonder you don’t form a
syndicate to work this scheme of yours, Doctor.”
“No syndicate is necessary,” replied the Doctor confidently. “We can do
it ourselves.”
“You might--if it were not for the strong opposition against you,”
Mullet remarked. “No, Doc. Don’t be too sure of your position. You’ve
got others who intend to cut in before you, when the time is ripe.
But,” he added, “what proof have you that this treasure actually exists.
I’m ignorant in these matters, you know.”
“In a dozen places in the Old Testament it is referred to.
Nebuchadnezzar, when he took Jerusalem, carried away over five thousand
vessels of gold and silver from the temple. Yet this was only the
portion which the Jews allowed to remain there. The greater part of the
treasure, including the Ark of the Covenant and the tablets of the law,
were hidden and have never been recovered. We learn from the Book of
Ezra that when Cyrus, Nebuchadnezzar’s successor, gave the Jews their
liberty, that he restored to Jerusalem five thousand four hundred basons
and vessels of gold and silver which the King of Babylon had taken away.
Those were, no doubt, placed in the new temple which Zerubbabel
erected, but of which we unfortunately possess so very few particulars.
What we are in search of is not this treasure, but the vessels of
Solomon’s temple that were hidden by the priests before the capture of
Jerusalem by the King of Babylon.”
“So I understand, Doctor. But what actual statement have you that they
are still concealed?”
“The plain, straightforward statement in Holy Writ,” was the other’s
reply, as he sat huddled in the big armchair, a queer, ugly little
figure. Then, reaching across to a small table whereon lay the Bible,
which he now daily studied, and opening it, he said: “Now, listen to
this. Jeremiah, xxvi, 19-21, reads as follows:
“‘For thus saith the Lord of hosts concerning the pillars, and
concerning the sea, and concerning the bases, and _concerning the
residue of the vessels that remain in this city_, Which
Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, took not, when he carried away
captive Jeconiah, the son of Jehoiakim king of Judah from Jerusalem to
Babylon, and all the nobles of Judah and Jerusalem:
“‘Yea, thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, concerning
_the vessels that remain in the house of the Lord, and in the house of
the King of Judah and of Jerusalem_.’”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Mullet, starting up. “I didn’t know of those words
of the prophet. But I’m ashamed to say, Doctor, that I never was very
much of a Biblical scholar. But it really looks as though there is
something in the theory after all, doesn’t it?”
For a long time the two men sat together, but though the Doctor was
eager to learn how Aggie’s father had obtained his knowledge, the latter
was equally determined to tell him nothing.
“If you carry on this inquiry, Doctor,” he said, “it will be a very
risky proceeding--I can tell you that much.”
“What! Your object then is to frighten me into inactivity, Mr Mullet--
eh?” asked the little man, jumping up.
“Not at all--not at all, my dear fellow. You don’t understand. You and
I are friends, and--well, we’ll continue to be, if you will allow me.”
Raymond Diamond confessed that he did not understand the object of his
visitor’s presence there.
But “Red Mullet” only laughed, and taking another cigar from his case,
said drily:
“Then let us drop the subject, Doctor, and talk of something else.”