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Reeve, Arthur B. (Arthur Benjamin), 1880-1936

"Gold of the Gods"

"Why?"
"Well," continued Whitney, still confidential, "we haven't got the
dagger--that's all. There--I never actually asserted that before,
though I've given every one to understand that our plans are based
on something more than hot-air. We haven't got it, and we never
had it."
"Then who has it?" asked Kennedy colourlessly.
Whitney shook his head. "I don't know," he said merely.
"And these attacks on you--this cigarette business--how do you
explain that," asked Craig, "if you haven't the dagger?"
"Jealousy, pure jealousy," replied Whitney quickly. "They are so
afraid that we will find the treasure. That's my dope."
"Who is afraid?"
"That's a serious matter," he evaded. "I wouldn't say anything
that I couldn't back up in a case of that kind. I'd get into
trouble."
There was nothing to be gained by prolonging the conversation and
Kennedy made a move as though to go.
"Just give us a square deal," said Whitney as we left. "That's all
we want--a square deal."
Kennedy and I walked out of the Prince Edward Albert and turned
down the block.
"Well, have you found out anything more?" asked a voice in the
shadow beside us.
We turned. It was Norton.
"I saw you talking to Whitney in the writing-room," he said, with
a laugh, "then in the cafe, and I saw Alfonso come in.


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