“Well, suppose you and I agree to give ’em the proceeds of the sale,” and Sturgess handled one of the jugs lovingly. “There’s sixty ounces of pure specie in this pretty thing alone, I’ll bet. Then, if it dates away back, the price goes up like a rocket.”
Maseden knew that the really important part of his question had been avoided.
“We must think it over,” he said.
“Think what over?”
Sturgess, whose face was on a level with Maseden’s knees, scowled up at his friend with such an air of indignant surprise that the other man laughed.
“I am not planning a daylight robbery of two fatherless orphans,” explained Maseden. “Our difficulty will be to persuade these two to accept their legitimate half share, let alone the whole of the plunder. Shan’t we give them a hail, and let them see the pirate’s cache before breakfast? Because that is what it is. These things were stolen from some Aztec shrine.”
“Why Aztec?”
“Why not?”
“Peru is a far more likely place.”
“Yes, if these utensils were not of Mexican origin. The signs on the dishes are the animal-names used in the Aztec calendar.”