Indiana Jones and the Secretof the Sphinx by Max McCoy Page B

question," Faye asked.
    "Certainly," Jadoo said.
    "There is a goblet made from a human skull in your collection in the next room," she said. "We observed that it was not dusty, like the other pieces, and it smelled of wine."
    "Ah," Jadoo said and smiled. "You were wondering if, true to my name, I take refreshment from it. No, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I acquired that relic some years ago in Tibet, and through neglect a family of mice came to nest inside it. When I discovered it last week, I asked Pasha to clean it. He used vinegar, which accounts for the odor."
    "That explains it," Faye said.
    "What do you mean, 'true to your name'?" Mystery asked.
    The magician looked uncomfortable.
    "Jadoo," Indy explained, "means 'black magic.'"
    "A stage affectation," the magician said.
    There was a rap at the door, and Pasha entered. He was carrying a tray, and there was a heavy yellow piece of paper on it, folded so as to make it its own envelope.
    "Excuse me," he said. "A message for Dr. Jones."
    "Thank you," Indy said.
    Indy opened the telegram and read it.
    "It's from Marcus Brody," he said, and his voice nearly cracked. "He says that he is distressed to learn that I'm in India instead of China, but that he has directed a transfer of funds to the British Mercantile Bank here. All I have to do is go to the bank and give our usual code word."
    "You seem surprised to hear from your old friend," Faye said.
    "Not surprised," Indy said. "Simply nostalgic."
    "You have a code word?" Mystery asked.
    "Yes," Indy said proudly. "A mnemonic device we agreed upon, something from childhood. It certainly comes in handy."
    "But what if somebody guesses it?" she asked.
    "Oh, that won't happen," he said. "The word is part of a sequence, which progresses each time we use it. Oh, no."
    "Dr. Jones," Faye said. "What's wrong? You look suddenly ill."
    "I can't remember where we are in the sequence," he stammered.

    "All right, Dr. Jones," the banker said cheerfully. "My name is Mr. Hyde, and I will be overseeing the funds transfer from America. One thousand American dollars."
    They were sitting in a well-appointed office of the British Mercantile Bank, while Faye and Mystery waited in the lobby outside. The banker had seemed somewhat alarmed at Indy's disheveled condition, and had insisted that he leave the whip and the gun with Faye.
    "Terrific," Indy said. "You don't know what a help this is."
    "Sign this, please."
    He pushed a form across to Indy.
    Indy signed it and dated it, then handed it back.
    "The date," the banker said.
    "What? Oh, sorry. I'm always behind when the year changes."
    "You are a quarter of a century ahead," the banker observed.
    "There's a funny story behind that," Indy said.
    "I'm sure there is," the banker said without emotion. "Now, do you have some identification? Your passport will do."
    "I'm sorry, I don't," Indy said.
    "You're traveling without a passport?"
    "I lost it in the storm that sank our ship," Indy said.
    "Something else, then. A birth certificate?"
    "That's not something I normally carry with me."
    "A library card, perhaps."
    "I told you," Indy said. His eyes glistened and his cheeks were beginning to redden. "I lost everything in the typhoon. We are in a desperate situation here, or I wouldn't be wiring my friend Marcus Brody for money."
    "All right, Dr. Jones, no need to get angry," Hyde said. "There is one last recourse here. I just need to verify your identity with the code word which Mr. Brody has given us."
    Indy grinned.
    "Another funny story," he said.
    "I'll take your word for it," the banker said.
    "Can I give you the entire phrase, of which—"
    "The code word, Dr. Jones," the banker insisted.
    Indy mumbled.
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "Boy," Indy said.
    "No, I'm sorry."
    "Does."
    "Quite wrong."
    "Fine," Indy said.
    "Well," the banker said.
    "That's it," Indy said. "I couldn't remember which note we used last. Every Good Boy Does Fine. The phrase stands for the lines of the great musical staff, and we used D