“The Sphinx Room, eh?” questioned Drury, in a meditative tone. “Say — that’s a tricky name. Who thought it up? Rubal?”
“I don’t know,” returned Grewling. He turned to the cops. “Keep this man out of the Sphinx Room until it is opened to the public.”
With that, Grewling turned on his heel and strode from the museum.
DRURY shrugged his shoulders. He beckoned to Clyde; they followed to the door and saw the police chief join another squad of officers.
“Half the force is here,” stated Drury. “They must expect a big crowd. But nobody’s showing up yet. Say! There’s an idea for Knode. Wait’ll I tell him.”
“What’s the angle?” questioned Clyde.
“You’ll get it later,” laughed Drury. “Well, the shindig won’t begin for a while yet. Come on — I’ll show you the rest of the museum. The chief didn’t say we couldn’t go in the other exhibit rooms.”
He led the way to the left. They came to the doorway of the large exhibit room in the left front corner. Drury waved his hand to indicate an array of statuary that was displayed on pedestals of uniform height. Replicas of Greek and Roman statues, these massive figures filled the room so completely that narrow aisles alone remained as a means of walking in and out.
“Old home week on Mount Olympus,” chuckled Drury. “Say — there’s more Greeks here than they packed in the wooden horse at Troy. Look at Kid Neptune over there, with his pitchfork. Mercury, bringing a message of the Laocoon group. They won’t have time to read it while they’re fighting that big snake.”
“What do they call this layout?” asked Clyde.
“The Antiquity Room,” replied Drury. “Well-meaning citizens chipped in to donate that swell lot of plaster of Paris. Come on, Burke, I’ll show you some more of the madhouse.”
He led Clyde along the corridor at the left side of the museum, pointing out small exhibit rooms where paintings, vases and Oriental curios were on display.
“Some of this stuff is pretty good,” admitted Drury, “but most of it’s junk. A rather nondescript bunch of collectors were responsible for purchases and donations. Not so bad, though. But say!” — he turned about near the end of the corridor — “come back while I show you the Medieval Room.”
They walked back to the front hallway of the museum and kept on until they reached the corridor on the right. Drury waved his hand toward the rooms on that side of the building.
“More paintings, some Chinese screens and idols,” he said. “That’s all you’ll find down there, except the curator’s office. But take a look at this place, Burke” — he beckoned Clyde toward the room at the front right — “and you’ll see some items that are worth looking at.”
They entered the Medieval Room. Clyde immediately caught Drury’s enthusiasm. This room, too, was well stocked; but instead of imitation statuary it was filled with genuine relics of the Middle Ages and early modern times.
“A genuine Moorish cannon,” affirmed Drury, pointing to a wide-mouthed mortar that stood in one corner. “Captured from Mediterranean pirates. Look at that suit of armor. Genuine Crusader mail. Here’s an Iron Maiden — spikes and all — that they used to execute prisoners.”
CLYDE paused to look at the last named curio. It was a gruesome object, with its spike-studded door opened as if to receive an expected victim. Shaped to a huge resemblance of a human form, the torture device was monstrous.
“Here’s a better-looking gal,” chuckled Drury, pointing out a massive wooden carving that apparently represented a mermaid. “Supposed to be a figurehead from one of the ships in the Spanish Armada. Over here is a slave block. See the chains on it?”
Clyde nodded. Then his attention was attracted to the most distant corner, where a cleverlike blade glistened at the top of a heavy wooden framework.
“A genuine guillotine,” informed Drury. “Ready for business. Actually used during the French Revolution.”
“So I thought,” nodded Clyde.
“And over here” — Drury stepped to the wall near the door — “is a nice display of cutthroat weapons. Daggers, dirks, poniards, bolos, stilettos, machetes — name them and take your pick. Nothing lacking but razors. They’re too modern.”
“Over by that walclass="underline" Swords, cutlasses, sabers, scimitars, battle-axes, halberds and other heavy cutting tools. Yonder we have first-class firearms from the age of the blunderbuss to the period of the fusil and the musket.”
“A valuable collection,” decided Clyde.
“Some of it,” agreed Drury. “But the real stuff is packed away until this edifice is finally completed. There’s going to be a Modern Room at the back. That will have some fair stuff. But the real bet will be the wings. They will house the Barnaby Soyer collection.
“It’s worth a million, Burke. I’ve seen some of the items. Statuettes of silver and gold. Beautiful sets of carved cameos and gems. Golden vessels, objects of jade—”
“Where is all this at present?”
“Down below. In a sealed vault underneath the Sphinx Room. That’s squarely beneath the dome. No one can get in there because they bricked up the rear of the vault. It won’t be opened until after the museum is completed. Which may be a long time from now, the way Rubal is stalling with the plans.”
“Rubal is the curator?”
“Yes. He ought to be a good one, too. Got a sour face that would look good on an Egyptian mummy. About as human as a jellyfish—”
“That’s enough, Mr. Drury,” came a protesting voice. “I wish that you would say nothing more of that sort.”
“Oh, hello, Hollis!” Drury smiled sheepishly as he saw the stolid, square-faced man who had entered unnoticed. “No harm meant. I was just kidding about your boss. Meet Mr. Burke.” Then, turning to Clyde, Drury added. “This is Hollis, the chief attendant.”
Clyde shook hands with the man. Then Hollis announced the reason for his arrival.
“I saw you gentlemen come in here,” he said. “I wanted to let you know that the dedication is about to begin. But before you go out, Mr. Drury, I should like to speak to you.”
“All right, Hollis,” agreed Drury, clapping the fellow on the back. “We’ll meet you in here after the shindig. Come on, Burke. We’ll get our first look at the Blue Sphinx.”
WAITING policemen made no objection when Clyde and Drury made their reappearance. There were officers in the big front hall; others could be seen outside the building. In the anteroom, the reporters found two more. Four cops were in the Sphinx Room.
But by that time, neither man was thinking of the police. Both were studying the Blue Sphinx which rested on a long pedestal in the center of the high domed room. Snugly nestled, the crouched figure measured some twenty feet in length, with width and height proportionate.
“They must have just about squeezed it through the doorways,” observed Drury, to Clyde. “Say — it looks pretty nifty. Limestone, I guess, with a bluish tinge—”
He broke off as a pompous man stepped up from a small group that was viewing the Blue Sphinx. This individual was attired in a frock coat. As he began to speak, Clyde decided that he was the mayor, Quirby Rush.
In oratorical fashion, the mayor waved his hand toward the solemn, staring face of the Blue Sphinx and began a brief address. He termed the Sphinx “a proud creature from an age long past” and added that its acquisition was “a boon to the enterprising city of Latuna.” Finally, he wound up with a reference to “the esteemed donor” who had contributed the Sphinx.
“Our fellow citizen,” announced Rush, “Mr. Strafford Malden!”
Eyes turned to a quiet-looking man who was standing near the mayor. Strafford Malden appeared slightly past middle age. He was smiling as he leaned upon a cane. He bowed a head that was partly gray-haired, as he acknowledged the mayor’s salutation.