But it contained no hint of the business or identity of her owners.
Jay Kalam made a more perplexing discovery.
He came from one of the cabins, carrying a ring and a little black book.
“I found these,” he said, “in the dust where a man died.
He may have been the owner of the ship; his suite was the choice one, and very elaborately furnished.
I don’t know what to make of it.”
He showed Bob Star what he found.
The ring was plain gold.
It had a broad black set, deeply inscribed, in scarlet, with the outlines of crossed bones, and a looped tau cross.
That same symbol was stamped in red upon the black cover of the book.
Its thin pages, Bob Star saw, were filled with penned hieroglyphs, meaningless to him.
“It’s a diary, I imagine,” Jay Kalam answered his inquiring frown.
“The difference in the color of the ink seems to show many brief entries, made at different times.
It ought to be interesting, but it looks like some sort of shorthand, probably in cipher.
I’ll see what I can do with it”
“Perhaps we’ll find more papers in the mansion,” Bob Star suggested hopefully.
“I doubt it The business of these people seems to have made them very cautious.”
He was studying the ring again, and the red emblem on the book, with a worried frown.
“This symbol is what puzzles me.”
Bob Star bent to peer at that curious design of looped cross and crossed bones.
“Was that the sign—” His voice caught, and he began to tremble.
“That was it.” The commander nodded soberly.
“The symbol on that sealed magnelithium cylinder, in which Edwin Oreo found the strange infant he named Stephen.”
His pale lips drew stern.
“I think the secret of this asteroid will be useful to us—if we can only find it”
They went on to the great, rambling white-walled house, and climbed to the broad verandah.
Bob Star stepped shakily over the sinister glow of a pile of grayish ash, beside a wide dark stain and a discharged proton pistol.
He hammered on a great door of wrought silver, which bore, in red enamel, the crossed bones of death and the looped cross of life.
Silence let them in, to meet the austere welcome of brooding death.
Exploring the lofty, dimly lit halls, and the vast magnificence of deserted rooms, they were astounded again and again at the evidence of lavish luxury.
One glimpse into the immense kitchen almost banished the apprehensions of Giles Habibula.
“Ah, lad!”
His seamed face was shining.
“Here’s abundance!
Whoever he may have been, the master of this place knew the secret of life.
No finer victuals and wines could be gathered from all the System!”
He gasped for breath, licking his fat blue lips.
“We need live no longer in that mortal coffin of a wreck, Jay— save the one of us on guard.
Life knows how long we may be marooned upon this gloomy rock.
Forever, it seems likely.
We may as well dine and drink—”
His voice died abruptly, when they came again upon the shining ash of another man.
In one vast, long, dim room, they found a great library of magnificently printed volumes.
The lofty walls were hung with the work of famous painters.
Niches were set with fine sculpture.
An alcove held a fine optiphone and many thousands of records, which set Jay Kalam’s dark eyes to glowing.
“This was a secret kingdom,” he said softly.
“It was a great mind’s dream of paradise, transmuted into reality by some extraordinary power of accomplishment.
A shining light of genius is reflected everywhere: in the beauty that sings from the gardens, in the architecture of this building, in this wonderful room—”
“Ah, so, Jay,” put in Giles Habibula. “And don’t forget the kitchen and the precious cellar.”