The detective turned again to Sharp. "Will you tell us what was in the box, sir?"
The business manager moistened his lips. A hush fell over the group. The officer in uniform twisted uneasily. The two detectives tried to show nothing, but then forced expressions showed the fear that gnawed at them. Kennedy's black eyes were lances of apprehension.
Rocks Malone moved across the room and stood beside Penny, a gesture purely protective. His mind was in a turmoil as he waited for Sharp to speak. Was there a connection between that box and Morton's death? What kind of a connection? His eyes strayed toward it. Under the lights he could see the hieroglyphics delicately carved on it.
What was the message that the unknown writer had tried to convey with those wavy lines? Had he cut a warning sign, a—Hands Off—Danger—symbol to warn against opening it? Had—But Sharp was speaking.
"I had come down to the basement to discuss with Mr. Morton certain items in the budget for his next expedition. He had just opened the box. He said, 'Oh, I say, Sharp, come here, will you? I want you to tell me what you see in this box.'
"To be frank, I was curious about the contents myself. I, and I imagine everyone connected with the museum, had been of the opinion that perhaps the box contained treasure, possibly jewels, which in the present state of our finances, would be of great help to us."
Sharp hesitated, seeking words. From the night came the rattle of a street car and the clang of the motor-man's bell. The blower fan rustled as it pushed air into the basement. On the mummy case the alarm clock—set to remind Morton when it was time to quit work and go home—ticked noisily.
"What was in it?" Kennedy husked.
Sharp took a deep breath. "At first, I saw nothing, and the immediate impression I gained was that it was empty. Then, as I bent over to peer into the box, I caught a glimpse of its contents."
Everyone in the room leaned forward as Sharp hesitated. He said,