"Thank you."
"But your letter here mentions an unauthorized experiment that cost $300,000, a missing man—two missing men, in fact—your fear of ugly publicity and—well, various other details that leave me thoroughly confused. Now, you're going to give us all the facts—not as a culprit, but as a trusted official."
"I appreciate that, sir. Shall I begin at the beginning?"
"Yes. Forget the letter. Begin where you like."
"Well, first, you know Dr. Wilson Reed, the archeologist. Top man in the field. He made the Yucatan discoveries and located the Poseidon Tablets in the vaults under the Sphinx—the newspapers called him the 'Columbus of the Past.' But I don't need to tell you that. This all began with a letter I had from Dr. Reed shortly after he left for his second expedition to Egypt."
Caples nodded. "I know his reputation, but I never met the man."
"That's one of the many things I don't understand, Mr. Caples." Raymond Donner sat on the edge of the leather lounge chair and kneaded his long, thin hands. "You see, the letter asked me to cooperate with Simon Kane in every way and there was an interoffice memo from you enclosed, instructing me to do so, written in your own handwriting."
Caples leaned across the desk, startled. "A memo from me! Now see here, Ray—Where is the memo? Where's the letter?"
"They're gone, Mr. Caples. They were stolen."