Shayne frowned and tugged at the lobe of his ear, refusing to let himself be disturbed by Bryant’s taunts. As he stared slowly around the room, Bryant stepped forward, opening his lips to speak again. A hearth brick creaked under his foot as he lifted his weight from it. He glanced swiftly downward, then stepped back and began speaking rapidly:
“I’m glad I came up to get some lessons. Are you all done, Shamus, or have you got some more tricks up your sleeve?”
“I think,” said Shayne, “I’m going to pull a brood of rabbits out of the hat for you.” He stalked forward purposefully. “That sounds like a loose brick you’re standing on, Bryant. They say it’s difficult to teach an old dog new tricks — and fifty years ago half the valuables in this country were stashed under a brick in the hearth. Step aside and let’s take a look.”
Bryant held his position. “That wasn’t a loose brick. I just scraped my foot on that dirt in front.”
Shayne said, “I’ll see.”
Bryant hesitated a moment, then shrugged and stepped aside. Shayne dropped to his knees and studied the mortared bricks. He took hold of one protruding slightly above the others, and waggled it. It was loose in its mortar.
Cal Strenk hurried forward as Shayne pulled it up. “Doggone, I plumb forgot about that. Ol’ Pete allus cached his nuggets an’ rich samples there in a ol’ Prince Albert tobaccy can. Said he was hidin’ ’em from burglars, but he’d pull that brick out an’ show ’em to anybody that come aroun’.”
Shayne laid the brick aside. He reached into the rectangular hole and lifted out a battered tobacco can. Windrow breathed uneasily as he and Bryant peered over the detective’s shoulder. Shayne opened the lid and emitted a grunt of disappointment when the contents dribbled out into his palm. There were half a dozen smooth heavy pellets smaller than a pea, and several jagged bits of rock which didn’t look at all rich in gold to the uninitiated eye.
There was nothing else in the can. Shayne rocked back on his heels and cursed. Bryant snorted with glee at his discomfiture, and taunted, “Why don’t you keep on digging? Maybe you’ll hit the lost Gregory lode.” Shayne was staring down at the floor in front of the hearth. He nodded suddenly. “I might, at that.” He dug his long fingers into the soft dirt upon which the can had lain. It came out easily, and after a moment, he paused and grinned up at Windrow’s intent face.
“You’re going to love this.” He fumbled in the hole and brought out another tobacco can similar to the first one.