among other things, the trust runs a museum. I'm not responsible personally for everything the museum buys, and I don't know every item in stock. Anyway, the museum had the tray.'
That's one tray. What about the other?'
That was a bit more difficult, wasn't it, Paid?' He smiled across the room at Halstead. 'Manuel de Vivero had two sons, Jaime and Juan. Jaime stayed in Mexico and founded the Mexican branch of the de Viveros -- you know about them already -- but Juan had a bellyful of America and went back to Spain. He took quite a bit of loot with him and became an Alcalde like his father -- that's a sort of country squire and magistrate. He had a son, Miguel, who prospered even more and became a wealthy- shipowner.
'Came the time when trouble rubbed up between Spain and England and Philip II of Spain decided to end it once and for all and began to build the Armada. Miguel de Vivero contributed a ship, the San Juan de Huelva, and skippered her himself. She sailed with the Armada and never came back -- neither did Miguel. His shipping business didn't die with Miguel, a son took over, and it lasted quite a long time -- until the end of the eighteenth century. Fortunately they had a habit of keeping records and I dug out a juicy bit of information; Miguel wrote a letter to his wife asking her to send him 'the tray which my grandfather had made in Mexico'. It was with him on the ship when the Armada sailed for England. I thought then that the whole thing was finished.'
'I got to that letter before you did,' said Halstead with satisfaction.
This sounds like a cross between a jigsaw puzzle and a detective story,' I said. 'What did you do then?'
'I came to England,' said Fallon. 'Not to look for the tray -- I thought that was at the bottom of the sea -- but just for a holiday. I was staying in Oxford at one of the colleges and I happened to mention my searches in Spain. One of the dons -- a. dry-as-dust literary character -- said he vaguely remembered something about it in the correspondence of Herrick.'
I stared at Fallon. 'The poet?'
'That's right. He was rector of Dean Prior -- that's not far from here. A man called Goosan had written a letter to him; Goosan was a local merchant, a nobody; his letter wouldn't have been preserved if it hadn't have been written to Herrick.'
Halstead was alert. 'I didn't know about this. Go on.'
'It doesn't really matter,' said Fallon tiredly. 'We know where the tray is now.'
'I'm interested.' I said.
Fallon shrugged. 'Herrick was bored to death with country life but he was stuck at Dean Prior. There wasn't much to do so I suppose he took more interest in his parishioners than the usual dull clod of a country priest. He certainly took an interest in Goosan and asked him to put on paper what he had previously said verbally. To cut a long story short, Goosan's family name had originally been Guzman, and his grandfather had been a seaman on the San Juan. They'd had a hell of a time of it during the attack on England and, after one thing and another, the ship had gone down in a storm off Start Point. The captain, Miguel de Vivero, had died previously of ship fever -- that's typhus -- and when Guzman came ashore he carried that goddamn tray as part of his personal loot. Guzman's grandson -- that's the Goosan who wrote to Herrick -- even showed Herrick the tray. How your family got hold of it I don't know.'
I smiled as I said, 'That's why you laughed when I told you to see Dave Goosan.'
'It gave me something of a shock,' admitted Fallon.
'I didn't know anything about Herrick,' said Halstead. 'I was just following up on the Armada and trying to discover where the San Juan had sunk. I happened to be in Plymouth when I saw a photograph of the tray in the newspaper.'
Fallon raised his eyes to the ceiling. 'Sheer luck!' he commented.
Halstead grinned. 'But I was here before you.'
'Yes, you were,' I said slowly. 'And then my brother was murdered.'
He blew up. 'What the hell do you mean by that crack?'
'Just making a true observation. Did you know Victor Niscemi?'
'I'd never heard of rum until the inquest. I don't know that I like the trend of your thinking, Wheale.'
'Neither do I,' I said sourly. 'Let's skip it -- for the moment. Professor Fallon: I presume you've given your tray a thorough examination. What did you find?'
He grunted. 'I'm not prepared to discuss that in front of Halstead. I've been pushed far enough.' He was silent for a moment, then he sighed. 'All right; effectively, I found nothing. I assume that whatever it is will only come to Light when the trays are examined as a pair.' He stood up. 'Now, I've had just about enough of this. A little while ago you told Halstead to put up or shut up -- now I'm putting the same proposition to you. How much money will you take for the tray? Name your price and I'll write you a cheque right now.'
'You haven't enough money to pay my price,' I said, and he blinked in surprise. 'I told you my price might not necessarily be in cash. Sit down and listen to what I've got to say.'
Slowly Fallon lowered himself into his chair, not taking his eyes from me. I looked across at Halstead and at his wife who was almost hidden in the gathering shadows of evening. I said, 'I have three conditions for parting with the tray. All those conditions must be met before I do so. Is that clear?'
Fallon grunted and I accepted that as agreement. Halstead looked tense and then inclined his head stiffly.
'Professor Fallon has a lot of money which will come in useful. He will therefore finance whatever expedition is to be made to find this city of Uaxuanoc. You can't object to that, Fallon; it is something you would do in any event. But I will be a part of the expedition. Agreed?'
Fallon looked at me speculatively. 'I don't know if you could take it,' he said a little scornfully. 'It's not like a stroll on Dartmoor.'
'I'm not giving you a choice,' I said. 'I'm giving you an ultimatum.'
'All right,' he said. 'But it's your skin.'
