y dangerous, but the Medici boots--that's
ridiculous, John. Besides----"

Suzanne paused provocatively, her red lips pouting. She looked down at
her trimly shod feet. "Besides, I'd like to try on those Medici
boots--just once. They're lovely, I think."

John was frowning thoughtfully. He scarcely heard her suggestion. He
spoke to Eric, instead, and his voice seemed a bit troubled.

"I believe that Uncle _was_ getting ready to destroy those boots that
very morning he died; else why should he have taken them from their
case--after fifty years?"

"Yes, I believe you're right, John, because that note is dated fully a
month before Uncle's death. I think he brooded over leaving those
boots to one he cared for. Poor old man!"

"I wouldn't call him so, Eric. He had his dreams of adventure realized
more fully than most men. I--I think I'll do as he says. I'll destroy
the Medici boots."

"If you'd feel better about it," assented his brother. But Suzanne did
not speak. She was looking at her shoe, pursing her lips thoughtfully,
seeing her feet encased in the gay embroideries of the Medici boots.

John seemed relieved by his decision. "Yes, I'd better do it. We'll be
getting back to town in a few days. Old Erskine, you know, Uncle's
lawyer, is coming down this afternoon. Then soon we'll be on the wing,
Susie and I--Vienna, Paris, the Alps--thanks to Uncle."

"Maybe you think I'm not thankful for my chance at a bit more work at
Johns Hopkins," said Eric, and they did not again speak of the Medici
boots.

* * * * *

The deaf old lawyer of the Dickerson estate arrived, and Suzanne, with
the easy capability that was part of her charm, saw that he was made
comfortable.

At seven there was a perfect dinner served on the awninged terrace
outside the softly lit living-room. The stars aided the two little
rosy lamps on the table, and swaying willows beside a stone-encircled
pool swung the incense of the garden about them.

As dinner ended, John took from the pocket of his coat a small,
limp-leather book. He pushed back his dessert plate and laid the book
on the table, tapping it with a finger as he spoke.

"This is the history of the Medici boots. It was in the little
wall-safe in the museum. After all Uncle said of the Medici boots,
shall we read it?" And turning to the old lawyer, he told of Silas
Dickerson's letter concerning the boots.

Erskine shook his head, smiling. "Most collectors ge