A Sword For the Baron Read Online Free PDF Page B

held the sword in his hands while examining it closely beneath the lamp which was now pulled down as far as it would come. The brightness of the scintillas actually hurt the eye. Larraby screwed a glass up into his right eye, and drew closer. “Josh,” Mannering confided, after a minute of absolute silence. “It is real.”
    â€œI’m sure there isn’t any doubt about it, sir – there is no possibility of a fake. That is one thing established.”
    â€œThe girl wanted it back at Gentian House so badly that I thought there might be a special reason – that it might be a copy which she wanted to put back before I’d discovered the deception. Perhaps she really feels that if it isn’t put back soon it never will be. I don’t think she told me everything, by a long way.” Mannering talked as he placed the sword into Larraby’s hands and picked up the leather sheath. This was an outer covering, used only for carrying or storing the weapon. Made of calf leather, it was pliable, and rather like a slender golf club bag, with a cap which fitted over the head of the hilt. Larraby pushed the sword into its scabbard, then slowly into this sheath, and the brilliance gradually faded.
    Mannering fastened the cap. “It fits pretty snugly,” he observed. “The outer sheath is fairly new, I would say – made in the last ten or twelve years, I think.”
    â€œDidn’t she give any real reason why she was so anxious to get the sword back?” Larraby asked.
    â€œOnly sentimental reasons.”
    â€œMay I ask why Lord Gentian brought it here?” asked Larraby.
    Mannering explained as he took the sword out again, and examined every inch of it, pressing it with his fingernails, looking and feeling for any kind of trick hiding place. He found nothing; the sword seemed solid. He examined the sheath as closely, pushing a long cane into it and moving it round and round inside, to make sure that nothing was inside the sheath.
    â€œStill a puzzle,” he said, musingly. “Let’s put it away, Josh.”
    They locked the office door, then removed two books from a shelf behind the desk – the first step necessary to open the strongroom, which was electronically controlled. Very few people could open it; and Mannering did not think it could be opened except by someone who knew the secrets of its control. Soon, boards in a corner of the floor slid apart – the centuries-old floor had been cunningly adapted – and revealed a narrow flight of cement steps. Light came on automatically. Mannering went down, leaving Larraby upstairs in the office.
    He had a strange feeling, which would not leave him; that he was holding danger in his hands.
    Lorna had felt it, too, and Larraby had been uneasy almost from the moment that he had seen the sword. Call it premonition, call it excess of caution, call it foolishness – whatever the explanation, the fact remained that he wished the sword was not here.
    He opened one of ten safes standing against the wall, using a key and two electronic control switches. There was ample room inside for the Mogul Sword of Victory. He placed it inside, stood back for a moment, closed the door and set the controls again. He was still uneasy; it was almost as if he expected to run into trouble when he reached the top of the steps.
    Larraby, studying the leather-bound book, sat at Mannering’s desk. His hair looked like a cluster of fresh fallen snow. He was reading quite small print without glasses, and was very intent. He glanced up, and jumped to his feet.
    â€œI didn’t hear you coming, sir.”
    â€œReading all about the sword’s history?” asked Mannering. He watched as Larraby pushed the books back into position, and as the opening to the strongroom closed. There was a faint click before the room became quite normal again, looking as if it had not been disturbed for years.
    â€œI recollect hearing