Part 9 (2/2)
”In the old museum.”
”The old museum!”
”Yes, I thought you might have lost--”
”No, no,” he interrupted, ”we never possessed one of these. There is one in the Metropolitan Museum. It's the only one I ever saw save one I chanced upon on the east coast of Russia. I tried to buy it from the natives. They would not name a price. Decamped that very night; utterly disappeared. Thought we might steal it, I suppose. Suspicious.
Superst.i.tious lot.
”The question is,” he said after a moment, ”now you have it what are you going to do with it?”
”Why,” smiled Florence, ”return it to the owner if--if he can be found.”
”The owner,” Cole's eyes narrowed, ”I fancy will not call for it. I have reason to believe that were you to advertise your find in the papers he would not venture to call for it. And yet,” he said thoughtfully, ”it might be worth trying.”
He sat for a long time in a brown study.
”Miss Huyler,” he said abruptly, ”this is a strange affair. I am not at liberty, at the present moment, to tell you all I know. One thing is sure: it is not safe for you to be carrying this thing about, for in the first place it is valuable, and in--”
”Valuable? That?” exclaimed the girl.
”Quite valuable. Well worth stealing. I'd almost be tempted myself,” he smiled. ”But there is another reason why it is not safe. I am not at liberty to tell you. But if you will trust me with it, I will place it in one of the gem cases. Our gem room is guarded day and night. It will be safe there, and neither it nor you will be safe if you keep it. By the way,” he broke off suddenly, ”what is your address?”
Florence gave the address of a friend where her mail was left.
”You live there?”
”No, but no mail is delivered where I do live.”
”Where can that be?” he asked in some surprise.
”In a boat,” she smiled. ”In a pleasure yacht. Oh, it's not afloat,” as he looked at her in astonishment.
”Might I ask the name of the boat and the location?” he half apologized.
”Someone might wish to visit you. It will be proper and very important that he should. Otherwise I would not ask.”
”The O Moo,” answered Florence quietly. ”Foot of 71st Street.”
She rose to go. He grasped her hand for a second, looking as if he would like to say more, then bowed her out of the door.
As she entered the corridor, she was conscious of a strange dizziness. It was as if she had spent the better part of a night poring over an absorbing story. She had come to the museum to rid herself of the blue candlestick and the mystery attached to it. The candlestick was gone but the mystery lay before her deeper and darker than ever.
CHAPTER VIII A STRANGE GAME OF HIDE-AND-GO-SEEK
The next short chapter in the story of the mystery of the blue candlestick followed closely upon Florence's visit to the new museum.
It was on the following morning, as she and Lucile were strapping up their books preparatory to leaving the O Moo, that they heard a sudden loud rapping on the hull of the yacht.
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