Arthur B. Reeve

“ As I finished reading I turned quickly to Kennedy.
“Some one down at that Mexican cabaret knows more about the death of Neumeyer than appears on the surface,” I remarked. “What do you suppose the inscription really was about?”
“Well,” considered Kennedy thoughtfully, “Mexico is full of historical treasure. As you might gather from the letter, the Government, to all intents and purposes, says to the scientist, ‘Come and dig.’ And then when he finds anything, the Government steps in and seizes the finds for its own national museum. The finder never gets a chance to keep his discoveries. ”

“ I asked.
“A man of rare ability,” remarked Kennedy, “a past master at the art of intrigue. Sanchez is a typical soldier of fortune, but Alvarez has the polish of the man of the world. Burke tells me he is one of the most trusted of the agents of the Federal Government. He has been in New York only a few days. But as far as I can see there isn’t much to connect him with the case.”
Kennedy had been clearing away his X-ray apparatus and was still revolving the matter of the letters in his mind. ”

“ Sinclair believes so. That, in my opinion, accounts in large measure for his interest in archeology of the brand that Neumeyer practised.”
“True,” I agreed. “Sinclair is above all a practical man.”
Kennedy looked at me abstractedly.
“There are persons,” he resumed, “who would stop at nothing—not even at the murder of German-American savants—murder of their own colleagues—to get such a secret.” ”