The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 107: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE THING THAT WAS CAKSAR’S. It. was the first time he had ven- tured to depart from the formal ‘““Miss Downs,” and the girl’s face flushed slightly as she followed him down the little hall to the door of the office. Without pausing to knock, he turned the knob and entered quickly and—stumbled over Dr. Emlen. The body lay upon the great bear- skin rug before the door. The man lay face up in a pool of his own blood, and even in the surprise of the moment Oakes found time to fairly push Marjorie back into the hall as he dropped to his knees. , “ Wait a moment,” he said quickly. “ Wait in the hall, if you do not mind. I’ll call the two of you in a moment.” Obediently she withdrew to the corridor atid stood with Hemingway, while Oakes bent above the figure and turned it over. Marjorie had not seen the body. The great head of the carabao that had hung above the door lay upon the floor by the figure, and it required only a cursory glance to tell him how the accident had occurred. - The wire that held the head sus- pended from the wall had rusted through and had broken, and the great mass of bone and horn had fallen at just the psychological moment when Dr. Emlen stood beneath it. The distance that it stood out from the wall was just sufficent to allow it to turn in its descent, so that the horns were pointed downmost as it fell, and the whole mass had evidently struck the unfortunate curator squarely upon the top of the head, killing him instantly. Hastily but still reverently, Oakes picked up the body in his arms and made shift to carry it to the long sofa that stood against the far side of the room. He was not strong enough, however, to lift the limp body in the way a dead body should be lifted, so he called Hemingway to his assistance. As the two men raised the body they staggered slightly, for Dr. Emlen was a heavy man. Hemingway, slip- 577 ping on the rug, heard a curious metallic tinkle on the floor, and me- chanically turning his head as he moved, he saw—the silver box. Had he been suddenly struck in the face he could not have been more astonished. He motioned to it as Oakes turned his head, and that gen- tleman, stooping, picked it up. They laid the body upon the divan and stood for a space studying the box from-every possible angle, and then, without a word, walked slowly out into the hall, where the anxious Marjorie was awaiting them. Oakes handed her the box and told her briefly that the curator had met with a serious accident through the falling of the carabao head from the wall. Naturally enough, she wished to go to him, and was only deterred when Oakes told her gently that no assist- ance would avail, and, leaving the at- tendants, whom they finally roused from their outhouses, to notify the proper authorities, they got their rick- shaws and rode back to the hotel. “T simply cannot understand,” said Marjorie slowly, her brows wrinkled in deep thought, “‘ how the box came to be there. I wonder where he got it from? I wonder—but no, that could hardly be—” “ What?” “Wah Lin said that the doctor had not been out of the museum to-day, and.that he had told him distinctly to take that box of ours to the post along with all those other packages that were on the table. I do not believe that! It would be simply stealing.” An exclamation from Oakes made her turn and stare at him. “ What is it?’ she asked. “Do you remember what that old Chinese priest said on board the At- lanta? He said that the silver box is stolen always, and that it always brings bad luck to the person who steals it. It looks as though the old bonzge was right. I’m glad, though, that none of us has stolen it. COMicdoo S CO@