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daughters and I'm the second son of his fourth son and there's my family history in brief.”
    “Died under unknown circumstances,” said Halsted. “There are all sorts of possibilities there.”
    “As a matter of fact,” said Reed, “family legend has it that his impersonation of an Arab was detected, that he had been tracked to Hong Kong and beyond, and had been murdered. But you know there is no evidence for that whatever. The only information we have about his death was from seamen who brought a letter from someone who announced the death.”
    “Does that letter exist?” asked Avalon, interested despite himself.
    “No. But where and how he died doesn't matter—or even if he died, for that matter. The fact is he never returned home. Of course,” Reed went on, “the family has always tended to believe the story, because it is dramatic and glamorous and it has been distorted out of all recognition. I have an aunt who once told me that he was torn to pieces by a howling mob of dervishes who detected his imposture in a mosque. She said it was because he had blue eyes. All made up, of course; probably out of a novel.”
    Rubin said, “Did he have blue eyes?”
    “I doubt it,” said Reed. “We all have brown eyes in my family. But I don't really know.”
    Halsted said, “But what about your iron gem, your lucky piece?”
    “Oh, that came with the letter,” said Reed. “It was a small package actually. And my lucky piece was the whole point of the letter. He was sending it as a memento of his feat. Perhaps you know that the central ceremony involved in the pilgrimage to Mecca is the rites at the Kaaba, the most holy object in the Moslem world.”
    Rubin said, “It's actually a relic of the pre-Moslem world. Mohammed was a shrewd and practical politician, though, and he took it over. If you can't lick them, join them.”
    “I dare say,” said Reed coolly. “The Kaaba is a large, irregular cube—the word 'cube' comes from 'Kaaba' in fact —and in its southeast corner about five feet from the ground is what is called the Black Stone, which is broken and held together in metal bands. Most people seem to think the Black Stone is a meteorite.”
    “Probably,” said Rubin. “A stone from heaven, sent by the gods. Naturally it would be worshiped. The same can be said of the original statue of Artemis at Ephesus—the so-called Diana of the Ephesians—”
    Avalon said, “Since Tom Trumbull is absent, I suppose it's my job to shut you up, Manny. Shut up, Manny. Let our guest speak.”
    Reed said, “Anyway, that's about it. My iron gem arrived in the package with the letter, and my great-grandfather said in his letter that it was a piece of the Black Stone which he had managed to chip off.”
    “Good Lord,” muttered Avalon. “If he did that, I wouldn't blame the Arabs for killing him.”
    Drake said, “If it's a piece of the Black Stone, I dare say it would be worth quite a bit to a collector.”
    “Priceless to a pious Moslem, I should imagine,” said Halsted.
    “Yes, yes,” said Reed impatiently, “if it is a piece of the Black Stone. But how are you going to demonstrate such a thing? Can we take it back to Mecca and see if it will fit into some chipped place, or make a very sophisticated chemical comparison of my lucky piece and the rest of the Black Stone?”
    “Neither of which, I'm sure,” said Avalon, “the government of Saudi, Arabia would allow.”
    “Nor am I interested in asking,” said Reed. “Of course, it's an article of faith in my family that the object is a chip of the Black Stone and the story was occasionally told to. visitors and the package was produced complete with letter and stone. It always made a sensation.
    “Then sometime before World War I there was some sort of scare. My father was a boy then and he told me the story when I was a boy, so it's all pretty garbled. I was impressed with it when I was young, but when I considered it after reaching man's estate, I