The Mystery of the Flaming Footprints - M. V. Carey [50]
“What do you want?” asked The Potter at last.
“I wish to take it back with me to Madanhoff,” said the general. “It will be put into the National Museum there. That is where it belongs. That is where the people wish to see it. It is what the generals promised them so long ago.”
“That promise was a mockery!” cried The Potter.
“I know. I know. I myself did not approve, but Lubaski insisted, and once the gesture had been made, we had to go on with it. Anything else would have shaken the faith of the people.”
“Liars!” stormed The Potter. “Murderers! How dare you talk about the faith of the people?”
“I am an old man now, Alexis,” said the general, “and you are old, too. And the people of Lapathia are happy — I promise you, they are happy. How much love was there for the Azimovs? And now the Azimovs are gone. What will you accomplish if you refuse me? Would you make yourself a thief? I cannot believe it. You have the crown. You swore you would always have it. That is why I came. Give it to me, Alexis, and let us part friends.”
“Never friends,” said The Potter.
“Then let us at least not part enemies,” pleaded the general. “Let us consider what will be the greater good for all. And let us forget the price we have both paid.”
The Potter was silent.
“You cannot claim it for yourself,” said the general. “Alexis, you have no choice.
There is no place it can go but to Madanhoff. And think, what would be the consequences to yourself if it were known that it is in your possession? And what would be the consequences to Lapathia? I do not know, but I can imagine — distrust, unrest, perhaps a revolution. Would you wish another revolution, Alexis?”
The Potter shuddered. “Very well, I will get it for you.”
“It is here now?” asked General Kaluk.
“It is here,” said The Potter. “Just a moment.”
“Mr. Potter?” said Jupiter Jones.
“Yes, Jupiter?”
“Shall I get it?” asked Jupe. “It’s in the urn, isn’t it?”
“You are a clever boy, Jupiter. It is in the urn. Will you get it?”
Jupe left the room and was gone for perhaps a minute, during which time no one spoke. When Jupiter returned he was carrying a bulky bundle. Layers of soft cloth had been wrapped around an object which Jupiter put down on the table.
“You can open it,” said The Potter.
General Kaluk nodded agreement. “I am sure you are curious,” he said.
Jupiter undid the wrappings and folded back the cloth. There, exposed on The Potter’s kitchen table, was a magnificent crown of gold and lapis lazuli, surmounted by a huge ruby, with a crimson eagle screaming from both sharp enamelled beaks.
“The imperial crown of Lapathia!” exclaimed Bob.
“But … but I thought that was in the museum at Madanhoff!” said Pete.
The general stood up and looked at the marvellous object almost with reverence.
“The one at Madanhoff is a copy,” he said. “It is a clever copy, although it was executed without the help of a Kerenov. I suppose there were a few experts, like this .
. . this Farrier person … who may have guessed at the truth, but the secret has been kept well. The crown is always under glass, of course, and the barriers which protect it are set well back from the case. No one can look too closely at it. Not too long ago a photographer even received permission to include it in his book. He was an expert on photography, not jewels, so we granted his request.”
The general began to restore the wrappings to the crown. “The secret will still be kept,” he said, “but the crown in Madanhoff will be the real one.”
“How can you be so sure your secret will be kept,” said the surly Farrier. “You’ve only got a score or so of witnesses here.”
“Who would believe you?” said the general. “You may talk all you wish.”
He took the crown and held out his hand to The Potter. The Potter turned away.
“Very well, Alexis,” said the general. “We will not meet again. I wish you happiness.”
And the general went out, followed by the slim and unsmiling Mr. Demetrieff.
“Jupiter,” said The Potter, “I think that now you may summon the police.”
Chapter