“Where did you go?” Megan asked.
“We set out up the Amazon, as we had originally intended. It was a fantastic journey—utterly amazing.” Barchester’s eyes glowed as he remembered the trip. “The things we saw—the parrots, the vines, the trees, even the snakes were just…Well, it is impossible to adequately describe it. One has to see it, feel it, to really understand what it was like. Not pleasant a great deal of the time, of course. The heat was abysmal, and the humidity was almost unbearable. And, of course, there was danger. Anacondas. Jaguars. There was always the possibility that we might come upon unfriendly natives. Even a cut could become horribly infected, and we were miles from a doctor. But it was thrilling, nevertheless. We traveled upriver as far as we could go, and then we took out across land. Then Captain Eberhart died.”
Deirdre let out a soft sound of distress, and Barchester turned toward her. His face softened. “I apologize, Miss Mulcahey. This is not a proper subject to be discussing in front of you.”
“No, please, go on. I want to hear it—that is, I need to hear it. We must find out everything we can so that we can expose Dennis’s killer.”
She looked at him with her large, soft eyes, and Megan could practically see the man melting right in front of them.
“Miss Mulcahey,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “I assure you that I will do everything I can to help you.”
“It is very kind of you,” Deirdre murmured.
Megan cleared her throat and pulled the conversation back to the subject. “What happened to Captain Eberhart?”
“It was one of those tropical fevers that felled him. As we traveled on, he became more and more ill. We stopped and made a semipermanent camp, then stayed there for a few days, hoping he would recover. But he did not. When he died, we were in something of a quandary, not sure whether we should turn back or go on, but finally we decided to continue. It seemed such a waste to turn back, as far as we had gone, and by that time, we had gotten to where we could communicate to some extent with the native workers. So we pressed on. Some of the natives abandoned us. They were a superstitious lot, and they viewed Eberhart’s death as a sign that we should not go farther. We couldn’t understand everything they said, but there was a lot of talk about Inca treasure and the ancient gods’ displeasure and that sort of thing.”
“Inca treasure?” Frank Mulcahey cast a significant look at his daughters.
“Yes. Oh, yes. We had heard tales of Inca treasure from Thurlew even before we left England.” He shrugged. “Just legends, you know.”
“What sort of legends?” Megan asked.
Barchester shrugged. “Oh, the usual sort of thing. I don’t know how much you know about the Incas, but they had an enormous empire, centered in Peru but stretching throughout much of the Andes and up to Central America.”
“They were very sophisticated, weren’t they?” Megan asked, trying to remember some of the things her brother had told her. Dennis had been fascinated by the history of South and Central America. “Had a system of roads…”
“Administratively, they were quite advanced. But not able to withstand European weaponry. Pizarro and his lot came in and took the Inca emperor captive. Demanded a huge ransom from all his subjects. Of course, they killed him anyway, but gold and gems and all sorts of tribute poured in from all the outlying areas. Naturally, there are legends about the treasures—that there were Incas who hid the gold or part of the gold on their way to free their king. The natives said that the ancient gods were angry about what amounted to looting their temples. Much of their gold work, you see, was in the temples—statues of the gods and vessels for the priests and so on. So, of course, there are legends that the treasure is protected by the ancient gods, and that whoever finds it will be subjected to punishment by the gods. That sort of thing.”
“Did you find any treasure?” Frank asked.
Barchester let out a short laugh. “No. Of course not. Julian found a few things—an ancient cup, a small statue, but no treasure trove, believe me. But the natives were scared—always talking about the land being protected by the old gods and all that. Just fear, really, I think, of going any deeper into unknown territory. But some of the natives stayed—we offered them more money. And we still had provisions. We wanted to see as much as we could. It was such an opportunity—an untouched land. But then…” He looked at them uncomfortably. “Then Lord Raine and Dennis…”
“What happened, Mr. Barchester?” Megan asked. “Exactly.”
“They quarreled. And Raine…” His eyes flickered uneasily over to Deirdre again. “Well, Raine killed him.”
“How?”
The man looked startled by Megan’s blunt question. “What do you mean?”
“How did Lord Raine kill Dennis? Did he shoot him or—”
“He stabbed him.”
A hush fell on the room. Megan had heard many sad and wrenching stories in her line of work, but she was unprepared for the stab of pain that went through her at Barchester’s words.
“I’m sorry,” Barchester said, looking wretched. “I should not have said that so bluntly.”
Megan shook her head, shoving down her sorrow. “’Tis not your fault, I assure you.” She paused, struggling to put herself back into her reporter’s role. “You said they quarreled. About what?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t—” He paused, again with an anxious glance at Deirdre. “I didn’t hear it.”
“Could it have been over something Dennis had found?” Megan asked.
Barchester frowned. “Found? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, you said that Mr. Coffey came upon some artifacts. Had Dennis found anything? I don’t know—some sort of object? An artifact? Even a jewel or something like that.”
“Oh, well, yes, I suppose he could have. But if he did, I never knew of it.” He paused, frowning. “But you know…now that I think of it, there was something in Raine’s possession that he was rather secretive about.”
The Mulcaheys glanced at each other, then back at Barchester, their interest clearly aroused. “Something?” Frank repeated.
“Yes. A pendant of some sort, I believe. I didn’t really get a good look at it. As I said, Lord Raine was secretive about it. But as we were traveling back, I noticed that he was wearing something around his neck. It lay beneath his shirt, and I saw him pull it out once or twice to look at it. I never saw it up close. He didn’t offer to show it to me, and I did not ask. I—we—well, obviously things were quite strained between us at that point. We did not speak much beyond what was necessary.”