"I see," Spriggs said, nervously. "It's my understanding that that piece of land at that time, and for that matter, presently, is in the possession of the Pinkham family for which it was named." He paused for effect. "And that's why we're here speaking with you this afternoon. Would it be possible for you to join us tonight for a bit of dinner? We will be taking our lodging at the Dover Inn, and we have some charts and maps we'd like to share with you. If you could be of help to us, we could certainly make it worth your while."

Winndrow was listening to Spriggs, but his gaze was upon the fair Miss Smithers. "You said the magic word," he said finally, "and it beats the daylights out of drowning worms."

They all shook hands and said their goodbyes and leaving Winndrow in the bar, Spriggs and Miss Smithers re-emerged into the sultry parking lot. As they pulled the convertible back onto the highway to head back to town, Miss Smithers was at the wheel, and Spriggs was frantically trying to crank down the passenger's side window to let out some of the pent-up heat that the car had collected during their brief encounter in the bar.

"Blast it! Miss Smithers, I know that the airport in Nashville was beyond provincial, but weren't there any cool, dark sedans at any of the car rental agencies? What in the blazes possessed you to select a white convertible in the South in the summertime?" he demanded loudly. "It attracts heat like some infernal vacuum!"

"Actually..." Miss Smithers began, but stopped herself from correcting her professor and current employer. Rather, she changed the subject to inquire about a detail that was beginning to nag at her. "Professor, I noticed that back in the bar you failed to mention anything about Bobby Beau."

"Robert Beauregard Rutherford is of no concern to our friend Mr. Pinkham," Spriggs replied.

"But I thought that--that was the entire reason for this trip," she said with a puzzled look.

"My dear Miss Smithers," Spriggs said, with more than a little condescension in his voice, "do you know who I am? Do you realize what it is that I do?"

"Sir?"

"I am a tomb raider. In some circles I am, in fact, known as one of the greatest living American tomb raiders. There are stories told about me with hushed reverence, and some are even true, at least partially, as if that matters. At any rate, do not worry yourself about Pinkham. He is not on our team. He is not on our level. He is not in our circle of expertise. He is a map. He is a reference point. He is a guide. Nothing more, nothing less."

Although Miss Smithers admittedly did not know the professor very well, she was shocked to hear this sort of talk from someone that, up until that exact moment, she had held in high esteem. She hid her surprise, however, and clenched the steering wheel with both hands and stared straight ahead at the winding road leading into the business district of the small town of Dover.