“But they are ours, they belong to us,” hastened de Moche, then caught the drift of Kennedy’s remarks, and was on his guard.

“Buried treasure, like that which you call the Gold of the Gods, is always fascinating,” continued Kennedy.  “The trouble with such easy money, however, is that it tends to corrupt.  In the early days history records its taint.  And I doubt whether human nature has changed much under the veneer of modern civilization.  The treasure seems to leave its trail even as far away as New York.  It has at least one murder to its credit already.”

“There has been nothing but murder and robbery from the time that the peje chica was discovered,” asserted the young man sadly.  “You are quite right.”

“Truly it would seem to have been cursed,” added Craig.  “The spirit of Mansiche must, indeed, watch over it.  I suppose you know of the loss of the old Inca dagger from the University Museum and that it was that with which Don Luis was murdered?”

It was the first time Kennedy had broached the subject to de Moche, and I watched closely to see what was its effect.

“Perhaps it was a warning,” commented Alfonso, in a solemn tone, that left me in doubt whether it was purely superstitious dread or in the nature of a prophecy of what might be expected from some quarter of which we were ignorant.

“You have known of the existence of the dagger always, I presume,” continued Kennedy.  “Have you or any one you know ever sought to discover its secret and search it out?”

“I think my mother told you we never dig for treasure,” he answered.  “It would be sacrilegious.  Besides, there is more treasure buried by nature than that dedicated to the gods.  There is only one trouble that may hurt our natural resources—­the get-rich-quick promoter.  I would advise looking out for him.  He flourishes in a newly opened country like Peru.  That curse, I suppose, is much better understood by Americans than the curse of Mansiche.  But as for me, you must remember that the curse is part of my religion, as it were.”

We had reached the campus by this time, and parted at the gate, each to go his way.

“You will drop in on me if you hear anything?” invited Craig.

“Yes,” promised Alfonso.  “We shall see you at four.”

With this parting reminder he turned toward the School of Mines while we debouched off toward the Chemistry Building.

“The de Moches are nobody’s tools,” I remarked.  “That young man seems to have a pretty definite idea of what he wants to do.”

“At least he puts it so before us,” was all that Kennedy would grant.  “He seems to be as well informed of what passed at that visit to the Senora as though he had been there too.”

We had scarcely opened the laboratory door when the ringing of the telephone told us that some one had been trying to get in touch for some time.

“It was Norton,” said Kennedy, hanging up the receiver.  “I imagine he wants to know what happened after we left him and went up to see Whitney.”