"That's the way of it, Matt," said Townsend; "that must have been the way of it. When the negro came here, he found these men sprawled out, just as we see them now. Negroes as a rule are superstitious, and you can understand what a tremendous effort it must have taken for that darky to step across Jurgens, pass this head and take the key of the vault from Whistler's pocket! No wonder the fellow was half scared to death! It speaks pretty well for him that he dared to do what he did and earn the five hundred I asked Cassidy to give him."
"A main fine thing for us," remarked Dick, "that he had nerve enough for the job."
"There must be something about this head that is valuable," muttered Townsend. "It would not have been in that chest if it wasn't valuable. Still, I can't understand why the Man from Cape Town should want the chest opened and the idol's head revealed before a woman. Why, this thing is enough to send a woman into hysterics."
"He had a scheme," said Dick, "but shiver me if I can fathom it."
"I'm beginning to feel a bit queer in the head," spoke up Matt. "I wonder if I only imagine it?"
"No imagination about it, matey," declared Dick. "I'm feeling some queer myself."
"I don't see why we should," said Townsend. "What is there about this head to exert such an evil influence?"
"There must be something," returned Matt, "to stretch out fellows like Whistler and Jurgens as we see them."
"Whoosh!" exclaimed Dick. "Hear 'em breathe! Their breath seems to be coming harder and harder. I wonder if that odor could kill a man?"
"It must have killed the monkey," said Matt. "If it would kill an animal in that way, I don't see why it wouldn't kill a man."