Eyes of the Killer Robot Read Online Free

grinned. "How interesting! Now then, gentlemen, what I think we ought to do is this: We should try to use this antiquated ticket to locate the object that was pawned long ago. I realize that there's not much chance of our coming up with anything, but you never know. Would you two like to go down to Chigwell's with me tomorrow morning?"
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    CHAPTER THREE
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    Fergie and Johnny said yes enthusiastically. Around ten thirty the next morning, the two boys and the professor were standing outside of Chigwell's Pawn Shop. Three golden globes hung from a bracket over the door, and propped up behind the plate-glass display window were two guitars, a saxophone, a velvet-covered board with several antique watches hanging on it, and an old cavalry saber. There was also an enormous meerschaum pipe covered with carved satyrs and nymphs, and a brass-lined wastebasket made from the foot of a rhinoceros. After the three of them had studied the things in the window for a few minutes, the professor coughed loudly and said, "Come along, gentlemen! Time's awasting!" He went into the shop, and Fergie and Johnny followed him.
    The owner of the shop was a small, bald, meek-looking man who wore half-moon glasses and an unbuttoned gray-vest. The professor marched straight up to the man, introduced himself, and fished the pawn ticket out of his pocket. When the man saw the ticket, his eyes opened wide.
    "Good night!" he exclaimed as he took the piece of paper from the professor's hand. "I never expected to see one of these again! Where on earth did you get it?"
    The professor smiled uncomfortably and glanced away. "It's a long story—I won't bore you with it. To tell the truth, I'm amazed that you recognize the ticket. I know it seems unlikely, but I wonder if it's possible that you still have the object that the ticket belongs to."
    The pawnbroker stared hard at the ticket and scratched the side of his nose. "Hmm ..." he muttered. "You know, there is just an outside chance that we might have it. You see, this ticket comes from my grandfather's time, and a few years ago we gave away or sold a lot of stuff left over from the old days. But I saved a few rather curious objects that I just couldn't bear to get rid of. They're in a closet in the back room. Here. Let me go have a look."
    The pawnbroker took the ticket and disappeared through a curtained doorway. A few minutes later he came back with an old-fashioned walking stick in his hands. The body of the cane was made of some mottled light-brown wood, and it was capped at the bottom by a tarnished brass ferrule. For a handle the cane had a piece of ivory that was shaped like a long, skinny human hand, and the fingers of the hand clutched an ivory ball. Attached to the handle was an old tattered cardboard tag with the number 896 on it.
    "Good grief!" exclaimed the professor. "So that's our prize, eh? Well, well!"
    "That's it," said the man with a little sigh. He laid the cane on the counter, turned, and plucked a dust rag down from a shelf. As Fergie and Johnny crowded in to stare at the cane, the man began wiping the dust off it. "It's been in that closet back there ever since I can remember," he said. "When I was a kid playing in the back of this shop, I used to take it out and fool around with it, but I always made sure my dad didn't know what I was doing. It's a dangerous thing, you see."
    The professor stared at him blankly. "Dangerous? How do you mean?"
    The pawnbroker smiled and gripped the ivory handle firmly. He tugged, and out came a thin, springy sword blade.
    "Wow!" exclaimed Fergie delightedly. "I've always wanted to have one of those! Can I see it?"
    The man handed the sword to Fergie, and he turned it back and forth in the light. Running the whole length of the blade, on both sides, were fancy engraved decorations—whorls and squiggles and loops—that looked like complicated Boy Scout knots. Fergie tested the edge of the blade with his finger: it was