“Ah!” said Rathbury, winking at Spargo. “So he would, no doubt. And Marbury himself, sir, now? How did he strike you?” Mr. Myerst gravely considered this question. “Mr. Marbury struck me,” he answered at last, “as a man who had probably seen strange places. And before leaving he made, what I will term, a remarkable remark. About—in fact, about his leather box.” “His leather box?” said Rathbury. “And what was it, sir?” “This,” replied the secretary. “‘That box,’ he said, ‘is safe now. But it’s been safer. It’s been buried—and deep-down, too—for many and many a year!’” CHAPTER NINE THE DEALER IN RARE STAMPS “Buried—and deep-down, too—for many and many a year,” repeated Mr. Myerst, eyeing his companions with keen glances. “I consider that, gentlemen, a very remarkable remark—very remarkable!” Rathbury stuck his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat again and began swaying backwards and forwards in his chair. He looked at Spargo. And with his knowledge of men, he knew that all Spargo’s journalistic instincts had been aroused, and that he was keen as mustard to be off on a new scent. “Remarkable—remarkable, Mr. Myerst!” he assented. “What do you say, Mr. Spargo?” Spargo turned slowly, and for the first time since Myerst had entered made a careful inspection of him. The inspection lasted several seconds; then Spargo spoke. “And what did you say to that?” he asked quietly. Myerst looked from his questioner to Rathbury. And Rathbury thought it time to enlighten the caller. “I may as well tell you, Mr. Myerst,” he said smilingly, “that this is Mr. Spargo, of the _Watchman_. Mr. Spargo wrote the article about the Marbury case of which you spoke when you came in. Mr. Spargo, you’ll gather, is deeply interested in this matter—and he and I, in our different capacities, are working together. So—you understand?” Myerst regarded Spargo in a new light. And while he was so looking at him. Spargo repeated the question he had just put. “I said—What did you say to that?” Myerst hesitated. “Well—er—I don’t think I said anything,” he replied. “Nothing that one might call material, you know.” “Didn’t ask him what he meant?” suggested Spargo. “Oh, no—not at all,” replied Myerst. Spargo got up abruptly from his chair. “Then you missed one of the finest opportunities I ever heard of!” he said, half-sneeringly. “You might have heard such a story—” He paused, as if it were not worth while to continue, and turned to Rathbury, who was regarding him with amusement. “Look here, Rathbury,” he said. “Is it possible to get that box opened?” “It’ll have to be opened,” answered Rathbury, rising. “It’s got to be opened. It probably contains the clue we want. I’m going to ask Mr. Myerst here to go with me just now to take the first steps about having it opened. I shall have to get an order. We may get the matter through today, but at any rate we’ll have it done tomorrow morning.”