'No one outside this room is to know of our relationship,' Treadwell said, a bit too sharply. He was all business now. 'The only exceptions would be those Professor Jones at his own discretion chooses to inform. As for the costs, all will be taken care of. It won't cost this establishment so much as a tuppence.'
'That's different,' Pencroft said with open wonder.
'You said there was a gift,' Indy reminded Treadwell. 'You apparently have something very special up your sleeve.'
'Oh, I do,' Treadwell smiled. 'It's the offer you can't refuse. There will be other teams on this mission, of course—men with other skills and connections. But if you are the first to find that cube, or whatever is the artifact rumored to have been with the diamonds—it's yours to keep.'
'You mean it is ours!' Pencroft burst out.
'That is your affair, sir. My point is that the Crown will relinquish all claim to the object.' Treadwell had almost a Cheshire cat smile on his face. 'Professor Jones cannot turn his back on something that might have a direct relationship with Christ.
That is strictly an unfounded supposition about the cube, of course, and I am out of my depth as to what else it might be. But I do not need to know more. My interest is specific and unambiguous.'
Treadwell rose to his feet to face Indy. 'Your answer, sir?'
Indy extended his hand. Treadwell took it firmly to end the questions.
'Done,' Indy said.
Treadwell turned to Pencroft. 'Is there anything you wish to add or to ask, Professor?'
Pencroft pondered the issue. Then he shook his head slowly. 'The entire affair seems quite mad, Mr. Treadwell.
My interest, however, also lies in that area you described as an offer that could not be refused. Such a find is beyond all monetary consideration. I also am agreed.'
'Thank you, sir.'
Treadwell opened his briefcase and handed a sealed packet to Indy.
'Everything you need is in there, including protected telephone numbers and a schedule of times you can reach me.'
Indy took the packet. 'I'm not sure if I should thank you for all this,' he said.
Treadwell didn't smile. 'Only time will tell, sir.'
Suddenly, Pencroft began to cough harshly. He pulled forth a handkerchief with shaking hands and brought it to his mouth. Treadwell and Indy glanced at one another; by trading nods, they agreed to wait until the old man could catch his breath. Finally Pencroft dabbed at his watery eyes and took a deep lungful of air.
'You two,' he wagged an accusing finger at them, 'sound like a bunch of old women at a tea and crumpets party, the way you are gaggling at each other. Get out of my sight and let this school get back to its function of illuminating young minds!'
Treadwell and Indy left the room together. Without another word between them they went their separate ways in the corridor, Treadwell departing the university through the main entrance, Indy returning to his office. He waited fifteen minutes, finished the coffee Frances Smythe had waiting for him, closed his briefcase, and started for the exit.
Smythe stopped him with a piercing look. 'It must have been quite a session for you not to say a word to me,' she said with a touch of criticism to her voice.
Damn, she's right, Indy thought. Saying nothing is worse than any kind of story. He turned to her. 'Some sort of government nonsense,' he said airily.
'Like I'm hearing right now,' she countered.
'You're too smart for your own good,' he chided her in a compliment she couldn't miss.
'I'll ignore the poisoned blessings.' She smiled. 'You have forgotten, Professor, to give me whatever story it is you wish people to hear that will explain your continued absence from your classes.'
He started to offer a spurious tale, stopped, started again, and thought better of storytelling to this woman. 'Make up what sounds best,' he directed her, 'and leave a memo on my desk as to what it is I'm supposed to be doing.'
'You are devious,' she remarked.
'Enough, Sherlock. Just kindly attend to whatever fabrication passes through that lovely brain of yours.'
'Tata!' she called as he left.
Twenty minutes later he slipped into the Wild Boar Pub. Indy stood at the bar, ordered an ale, picked up his mug, and wandered slowly toward a back door.
With no one paying attention to him, he slipped through the door to climb a narrow winding stairs to the private room that was his destination.
Thomas Treadwell greeted him with a wave of his own halffinished mug of ale.
Indy slipped into an easy chair. 'I really hate doing this to the old man, you know,' he said abruptly.
'It's necessary,' came the immediate response. 'The whole purpose of that meeting at the university was to keep Pencroft involved in a position of authority, but not
to let him know too much. At his age he could easily slip and give away the game. Besides, right now he feels completely justified in springing you free of your duties.'
'I know,' Indy sighed. 'Do we bring him up to snuff before any more meetings?'
Treadwell shook his head. 'We can't risk it. Professor Pencroft not only appears to be the soul of innocence, he is, and that's what we need from him.'
Indy laughed without humor. 'He'd kill me with his own two hands if he knew I was partly responsible for
