The Gold of the Gods

The Gold of the Gods

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold of the Gods, by Arthur B.
Reeve (#7 in our series by Arthur B. Reeve)
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Title: The Gold of the Gods
Author: Arthur B. Reeve
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THE GOLD OF THE GODS
BY
ARTHUR B. REEVE
FRONTISPIECE BY WILL FOSTER

CONTENTS
I THE PERUVIAN DAGGER
II THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE
III THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL DETECTIVE
IV THE TREASURE HUNTERS
V THE WALL STREET PROMOTER
VI THE CURSE OF MANSICHE
VII THE ARROW POISON
VIII THE ANONYMOUS LETTER
IX THE PAPER FIBRES
X THE X-RAY READER
XI THE SHOE-PRINTS
XII THE EVIL EYE
XIII THE POISONED CIGARETTE
XIV THE INTERFEROMETER
XV THE WEED OF MADNESS
XVI THE EAR IN THE WALL
XVII THE VOICE FROM THE AIR
XVIII THE ANTIDOTE
XIX THE BURGLAR POWDER
XX THE PULMOTOR

XXI THE TELESCRIBE
XXII THE VANISHER
XXIII THE ACETYLENE TORCH
XXIV THE POLICE DOG
XXV THE GOLD OF THE GODS

I
THE PERUVIAN DAGGER
"There's something weird and mysterious about the robbery, Kennedy.
They took the very thing I treasure most of all, an ancient Peruvian
dagger."
Professor Allan Norton was very much excited as he dropped into
Craig's laboratory early that forenoon.
Norton, I may say, was one of the younger members of the faculty, like
Kennedy. Already, however, he had made for himself a place as one of
the foremost of South American explorers and archaeologists.
"How they got into the South American section of the Museum, though,
I don't understand," he hurried on. "But, once in, that they should take
the most valuable relic I brought back with me on this last expedition, I
think certainly shows that it was a robbery with a deep-laid,
premeditated purpose."
"Nothing else is gone?" queried Kennedy.
"Nothing," returned the professor. "That's the strangest part of it--to me.
It was a peculiar dagger, too," he continued reminiscently. "I say that it
was valuable, for on the blade were engraved some curious Inca
characters. I wasn't able to take the time to decipher them, down there,
for the age of the metal made them almost illegible. But now that I
have all my stuff unpacked and arranged after my trip, I was just about
to try--when along comes a thief and robs me. We can't have the
University Museum broken into that way, you know, Kennedy."
"I should say not," readily assented Craig. "I'd like to look the place
over."
"Just what I wanted," exclaimed Norton, heartily delighted, and leading
the way.
We walked across the campus with him to the Museum, still chatting.
Norton was a tall, spare man, wiry, precisely the type one would pick to
make an explorer in a tropical climate. His features were sharp,

suggesting a clear and penetrating mind and a disposition to make the
most of everything, no matter how slight. Indeed that had been his
history, I knew. He had come to college a couple of years before
Kennedy and myself, almost penniless, and had worked his way
through by doing everything from waiting on table to tutoring. To-day
he stood forth as a shining example of self-made intellectual man, as
cultured as if he had sprung from a race of scholars, as practical as if he
had taken to mills rather than museums.
We entered a handsome white-marble building in the shape of a
rectangle, facing the University Library, a building, by the way, which
Norton had persuaded several wealthy trustees and other donors to
erect. Kennedy at once began examining the section devoted to Latin
America, going over everything very carefully.
I looked