The Golden Circle Read Online Free PDF Page A

of the j jewelry business, legitimate and otherwise.
Goulet was alone in his small cluttered shop preparing himself a pot of tea. "Ah," he smiled as the Phantom strode in, "it is Mr...."
"Devlin," said the Phantom.
"Mr. Devlin, to be sure," said the little old man. "Time has hardly touched you at all, while myself . . . ah."
The Phantom remarked on the wrinkled Goulet's appearance of robust vitality, then drew the golden arrow pin from his pocket. "What can you tell me about this?"
Goulet reached under the counter, brought up a tin of tea biscuits. He pried off the lid, selected two thin biscuits and shut up the box. After placing the two biscuits beside his teacup, he stuck his jeweler's glass into his left eye. "Allow me to examine it, Mr. . Devlin."
"I hear there's a fairly successful gang of jewel thieves operating hereabouts," remarked the Phantom while the little old man studied the golden arrow.
"As always," said Goulet, "where there are jewels there are those who wish to acquire them."
     
"You know nothing about them?"
"A most interesting pin." He popped the glass from Ills eye and caught it in his free hand.
Smiling at the old man's evasion of his question, the Phanntom asked, "The pin's not machine-made, is it?"
"Ah, no. This is a handcrafted item. Most certainly," the old man assured him. "The metal is quite unusual, a gold alloy of some sort. Quite unusual."
"Who made the pin?"
Goulet set the golden arrow very carefully on the glass counter top. Picking up one of the tea biscuits, tin took a dainty bite. "At best I could but hazard a
guess."
"Hazard away." !
After chewing meticulously on his tiny biscuit for almost half a minute, Goulet Said, "The craftsman you seek might just be a young man who operates a shop down in the Village. He calls himself Sweeney Todd, though that is quite obviously not his name. His is shop is located on Morse Lane, just off Bleeker."
"And what makes you think this is his work?"
Goulet brushed a minute crumb from his upper lip with his little finger before replying. "A man's style is as easy to recognize as his handwriting," he said, "to an expert. There are several signs which indicate this pin was fashioned by the young man who calls him self Sweeney Todd. I know, further, he is much taken with the idea of odd alloys."
The Phantom asked, "Would you say Sweeney Todd is honest and upright?"
"I was about to add a word of caution," replied the old man. "It might not be advisable to question Swee ney Todd too openly. No, I suggest you don't walk Into his place of business and ask him directly about the pin, if you understand my drift?"
"That I do," said the Phantom. "Now what about the jewel gang we were discussing before?"
"There is nothing positive I can tell you." Goulet poured tea into his fragile china cup. "However, I shouldn't be surprised if you learned more about it in the very near future. Yes, very near."
"Thanks." The Phantom placed two folded bills on the counter, took back the golden arrow pin.
'Thank you," said Goulet, not touching the money. "Do you have time for a cup of tea?"
"No, but thanks."
"Ah, perhaps some other time."
Pocketing the golden arrow, the Phantom left the little shop.
Sweeney Todd's Jewelry & Handcrafts Boutique occupied a wide brick-faced store on a short narrow street in Greenwich Village. The display window was filled with simple silver bracelets, bead necklaces and dangling medallions. Two lean young men in overalls and nothing else were coming out of the shop as the Phantom approached it. To the left of the doorway a frail old man with a substantial beard was bent over searching a wire trash container. He salvaged a mint condition copy of the Wall Street Journal and shuffled off reading its front page.
Glass chimes tinkled as the Phantom opened the door and entered Sweeney Todd's. The big high- ceilinged room smelled of teakwood and a musky incense. From a speaker hanging on a rafter came very low Indian sitar music. There was no sales counter. An