“The jade collection is here,” Peter called
Peter seemed so certain it was safe that Judy obeyed. The children, big-eyed with wonder, held onto the magician’s coat to steady themselves as they descended. Step after step they went, down, down, down!
“Are we to the center of the earth yet?” Penny finally asked.
Judy’s laugh sent back a strange echo. From the direction the steps had taken she judged they must be directly under the vault.
“I’ve reached the bottom,” she told the children. “It’s all right. Peter is here. Didn’t you hear me?” she asked him. “What did you mean when you said we were protected? If that was the chief deputy or one of his forest rangers up there, why did he tell us to stop?”
“He may have mistaken us for the thieves,” replied Peter, “but don’t worry about it. We’ve arranged a signal. One shot from my gun and he’ll come running.”
“You may need to fire that shot,” declared the magician. “That voice was no forest ranger. I’d know it anywhere. It was the voice of Paul Riker.”
“Me?” cried little Paul. “I didn’t—”
“Of course you didn’t, little rajah. It was your old uncle Paul, my boy. But don’t be scared. We’ll have a look at his jade collection anyway.”
“It’s right here,” Peter told him, turning his flashlight on a cabinet which appeared to be nothing more than one of the sections of a sectional bookcase. It was of mahogany badly in need of polishing. The glass could stand cleaning, too. But behind it Judy could see the elaborately carved little figures of many of the gods and goddesses that had been pictured in the magazine.