“If you had both the Images,” Gregory suggested, “you could break them up.”
Mr. Endacott raised his hand to his forehead as though in pain. Wu Ling’s expression appeared unchanged. Yet somehow or other he gave one the impression of having listened with distaste to words of blasphemy.
“You speak like a huckster from the new cities,” Mr. Endacott said wearily. “They are great works of art, these Images, sanctified by the years, alive by virtue of their greatness. To raise a hand against them would be barbarous. Besides, Wu Ling and I believe the legend. We believe that those will die who treat the Images roughly.”
Gregory remained discontented. He took a cigarette from the large wooden box which Wu Ling pushed towards him. The box was of some sort of sandalwood, but it, too, seemed to give out the peculiar odour of the place.
“Last night,” he confided, “when I sat alone with my Image, it came back to me how my father himself had insisted upon the necessity for securing both Images. He too must have been impressed by the legend. He’ll think my errand a failure if I return with one.”
“Without money how buy?” Wu Ling asked. “Johnson and Company, we are traders. For gold we sell anything on earth. Without gold, how can buy?”
“It is a problem,” Gregory admitted gloomily.
“You had, perhaps, a proposition?” Mr. Endacott suggested.
“Something of the sort. That is why I came to see you this morning. I wondered whether you would let me take your Image to England with mine, and, whilst they were together, have them examined in the British Museum, and see if any possible trace of opening or access to the interior of them is to be found? Of course, I shall do that with mine when I get there, anyhow, but you see I am beginning to fall in line with your superstition. I feel that both Images ought to be treated at the same time.”
“And if the jewels should be discovered?” Mr. Endacott enquired.