Talbot Mundy

The Mystery of Khufu's Tomb (Unabridged)


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enough to begin with? If you’ll come back this afternoon, I’ll show you a map of that property, location of the wells and exact figures. Meanwhile, I’ll have a talk with the pasha and we’ll have offer ready to send to your man—I take it he’s not afraid to talk six figures, is he? And if he likes the look of that, and cares to introduce himself, we’ll throw in the Egyptian end by way of bonus—see? We’ll go into details about Egypt after he has satisfied himself regarding oil. That suit you?”

      Nothing would have suited me better than to learn the secret there and then of that thousand-acre piece of sand, with its one well and its ruinous, deserted, wooden camp. Obviously there was something under those Egyptian acres to send an already wealthy pasha to the States, scheming in partnership with Zoom, whose local reputation was for overshrewdness, that lost him all the honourable business in two states, but had made him a fortune of sorts for all that. Zoom probably knew what he was doing.

      So I made an appointment for that afternoon, and hurried back to the hotel to see Joan Angela.

      “What do you know of your manager at Arcady?” I asked her.

      “All there is to know. Why?”

      “Is he in debt, or anything like that?”

      “If he needed money he would only have to ask me for it.”

      “He might not care to ask you.”

      “Jeff Ramsden, sit down there, come out from behind that mask, and tell me exactly what you mean! If there’s anything the matter with Will Tryon, I’m going to know it.”

      “That man Zoom told me just now that someone is going to advise you to accept a rotten offer for your property,” I said. “It must be somebody who’s in your confidence. Who else has any say in your affairs?”

      “Will Tryon is the only roan who knows my business,”

      “How about a woman? I notice you look startled. What woman knows all about your affairs?”

      “But that’s impossible! Clara Mulready is as honest as the day is long. It’s true she knows everything, and I talk ideas over with her and all that. But Clara—why she’s true as steel!”

      “Are you in the habit of taking her advice?”

      “Sometimes. She often gives me good advice.”

      “Has she any money of her own?”

      “No. None to speak of.”

      “How do she and your manager get along?”

      “I think Will Tryon hates her. Will is one of those crotchety old-timers who can’t believe a woman has more than one possible sphere. He swears I’m the only exception to that whom he ever knew.”

      “And Clara Mulready lives on the ranch? What is she—Miss or Mrs.?”

      “Mrs. She’s a widow.”

      “Any man in the offing?”

      “Yes. There’s a rather bright young fellow named Jansen. Will Tryon gave him a job on the ranch, and thinks quite a lot of him. He’s a year or two younger than Clara, but I think it’s only a question of time and enough money before she marries him.”

      “So Jansen has no money either? Clara listens to Jansen, and would like him to have money. Clara has your ear. Do either of those two people know about the receipt you got from old man Collins that establishes your title to the ranch?”

      “Clara does.”

      “Has she access to your strong-box?”

      “No.”

      “Who else has, besides yourself?”

      “Only Will Tryon, and only he when I give him the key and a special letter each time.”

      “Where is the strong-box?”

      “In the bank at Sacramento.”

      “Has Clara Mulready ever been with you when you went to open the box?”

      “Oh, often.”

      “When was the last occasion?”

      “Three or four days before I came away. It’s a big box, and much too full; so I took her along to help me straighten out all the papers.”

      “Did you see the receipt from Collins on that occasion?”

      “Certainly I did. Showed it to Clara. There’s a little room at the bank for the use of depositors. I little room at the bank for the use of depositors. I decided to hire a second box, so we had both boxes put in that room and divided the papers into them. She packed one box, and I the other.”

      “Who put away that Collins receipt, you or she?”

      “She did.”

      “She didn’t bring it away with her by any chance?”

      “No.”

      “What makes you so sure of that?”

      “I saw her stick it in an envelope, and saw her lay another envelope on top of it. She called my attention to it at the time, because the envelope that she laid on top was one that Will Tryon was likely to want before long.”

      “What was he going to want it for?”

      “It’s the title deed to a little scrap of land in San Francisco that’s as good as sold. We gave a man an option on it. In fact, I had half a mind to bring the deed away with me, so that Will Tryon could take it to the lawyers when he goes to San Francisco. Then I remembered that Will’s fussy about carrying valuable papers in his pocket, or even keeping them in the office safe any longer than he must; and he has to go to Sacramento anyhow on the way to Frisco; so I left it in the box.”

      “Was the envelope sealed?”

      “It wasn’t. Clara sealed it, and wrote on it in blue pencil what it contained.”

      “I suppose so that Will Tryon would take it away without troubling to examine the contents?”

      “The idea was to save him time. Will’s generally in a hurry.”

      “Now tell me some more about young Jansen. Does Will Tryon trust him much?”

      “I think so. He doesn’t trust anybody more than he can help. Will is one of those faithful fellows who accept responsibility for everything that goes wrong. Heaven knows how he finds time to do all the things himself that he does do. Now and then he has to trust Jansen.”

      “Does he ever send Jansen to San Francisco?”

      “Oh, yes. That’s part of Fritz’s business, to run errands. But what are you driving at?”

      “The question is—shall we drive or go by train?”

      “Where?”

      “To your ranch. I propose we give Moustapha Pasha the range for a while, as you suggested at breakfast-time. Are you expected at the ranch?”

      “Not for several days.”

      “Good. I’ll telephone to Zoom and call off my appointment for this afternoon. Which is it to be, Joan Angela-train or auto?”

      “I’ve turned that Ford over to the man you hire yours from. Go and buy a decent car for me. I think you’re crazy.”

      So I laid out close to five thousand dollars of Joan Angela’s money, and almost within the hour we were scooting along the concrete pike toward Carson at a speed distinctly higher than they recommend for brand-new cars of any make.

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