Come."
He led the way to the fireplace, went down on his knees and passed his
hands over the bricks. The third one he touched, shook. He tapped
it--without a doubt it was hollow. With his penknife he loosened the
mortar a little and drew it out easily. The back was open. Inside was the
black box.
"Craig's secret at last!" French muttered hoarsely. "Bring it to the
light, quick!"
They were unemotional men but the moment was supreme. The key to the
mystery of these tragical weeks was there in their hands! Their eyes
almost devoured those few hastily scrawled words buried with so much care:
_See page 62, January number, American Medical Journal 1905._
They looked at one another. They repeated vaguely this most commonplace of
messages. As the final result of their strenuous enterprise, these cryptic
words seemed pitifully inadequate. Quest's face darkened. He crumpled the
paper in his fingers.
"There must be some meaning in this," he muttered. "It can't be altogether
a fool's game we're on. Wait."
He moved towards a table which usually stood against the wall, but which
had obviously been dragged out recently into the middle of the room. It
was covered with bound volumes. Quest glanced at one and exclaimed softly.
"_American Medical Journal, 1905!_ French, there's something in this
message, after all."
He turned over the pages rapidly. Then he came to a stop. Page 60 was
there; page 62 had been neatly removed with a pair of scissors.
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