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Tang Zhaozong was planning how to deal with that Tang Zhangwei in the hunting ground of Dahong Mountain, and Tang Zhangwei was also prepared, of course, his preparation was loose on the outside and tight on the inside.

Among those people under Tang Zhangwei, only that Pan Magpie understood Tang Zhangwei's distress, Pan Magpie said to his subordinates: "We have a lot of people, but we can share very few things for that General Tang Zhangwei, how can we make General Tang Zhangwei satisfied?" If we don't act immediately, then we will certainly not be able to satisfy General Tang Zhangwei. ”

Bai Cunxiao also felt bitter that he could not share his worries for General Tang Zhangwei, they knew that this time was like a river, flowing eastward to the sea and never returning.

I only heard a "click" sound of a fine tap, and the lock was opened, and the key was indeed used to open a personal mailbox at the post office. Shen Ye grabbed the iron mailbox door, shook it hard, and the door shaft made a piercing creak, and then opened.

It was empty, except for a dark brown flat brown brown brown paper bag.

Shen Ye took out the paper bag, it was a large envelope bag, the kraft paper was strong and waterproof, flat like a flounder. Judging from the thickness of the paper bag, there are probably two or three sheets of paper in it at most.

"At least it's not a sachet." Tang Zhangwei winked at Luo Shang.

Shen Ye carefully wound the white cotton rope used to seal the bag from the buckle one by one, and the movement was very slow. Tang Zhangwei was anxious and wanted to go over to help, but he couldn't speak.

Finally, the white line of the seal was untied, and Shen Ye opened the mouth of the paper bag and took out a photo from it.

Although there were all kinds of ideas before, none of the four people expected that it was actually a photo inside, so they couldn't help but look at each other, and then leaned over to look at it.

This is a 16-inch color photo, which is already a little yellow. There are neither figures nor landscapes, but rows of white symbols, and a black background. But those symbols are definitely not Chinese characters, but more like a type of alphabet. There are more than a thousand of them, neatly arranged into a matrix of 40×40, and the strokes are very tough.

Tang Zhangwei took the photo from Shen Ye's hand and looked at it several times, frowned and said: "The mottled marks on the edge of the handwriting are obviously hammered out, this should be the rubbing of a certain stone tablet, and the photo is just a miniature photo." It's just ...... word."

A few of the symbols on the photo look familiar, but I can't remember them for a while.

"Let me see." Luo Shang, who had been standing behind, suddenly opened his mouth and said, without Bai Lu's translation, Tang Zhangwei also understood what he meant, so he handed over the photo, but thought disdainfully in his heart: "Can you understand this foreign devil?" ”

Luo Shang took the photograph and placed it very close to his azure blue eyes, his head tilted slightly to the right, and his left index finger kept rubbing against his temple, as if he was thinking painfully, and his cynical temperament was replaced by another strange look. After a minute, he slowly put down the photo and said to Bai Lu: "This anti-white effect doesn't seem to be what it is. ”

Tang Zhangwei listened to the translation, and let out a "snort" in his nose: "You know, Mr. Luo Shang." In the Chinese tradition, there is a technique called Motuo, which uses ink to stretch the words on the stone carvings onto the paper so that they can be copied as they are. Because the ink rubbing is covered with ink to contrast the outline, the rubbing is all written in white handwriting. I think those...... Well, those ghost drawings should have been sunken stone inscriptions. ”

Luo Shang nodded thoughtfully, and then asked, "You say this is a traditional Chinese technique?" ”

"Of course."

Luo Shang handed the photo back to Tang Zhangwei, and his eyes became subtle: "Then, this can't be explained." ”

"What can't be explained? Those wacky symbols? ”

"No, it's not some strange symbol......" Rochamp said with his chin pinched and in an indescribably wonderful tone, "these things are what we generally call ancient Syriac. ”

Sergeant Rasha stared at the deceased, his index finger and thumb rubbing restlessly the carefully trimmed black beard under his lips, a sign of his bad mood.

With the eyes of his more than twenty-year career, the murder scene in front of him was not much bloody, but it was definitely more expensive than any scene he had ever seen.

The deceased was hunched at his desk, and around him were piled up with old, yellowed books, letters, and even parchment. Together, these ancient gadgets are worth as much as the French police budget for several years combined. The deceased – Patrick Raques – was worth 500 million euros. These figures were as unpleasant for the young, left-leaning Rascha as the murder itself.

In front of him, the deceased's butler was staring nervously at the police officers who were investigating the scene, warning them from time to time not to touch the precious cultural relics.

"If we told him we had to sprinkle powder on these priceless treasures for fingerprints, would you think he would be mad?"

Rasha's lieutenant whispered to him, and Rasha grinned unsympathetically and took the transcript over to re-examine it.

The report was made at 8 a.m. on July 16. According to the housekeeper, it was customary for Raques to get up at seven o'clock every day. Today he saw that his master had not gotten up for a long time, so he went to the bedroom, and found that there was no trace of sleep; Thinking that Laques had been working all night again, he prepared a breakfast and delivered it to his office, where the body was found.

"When was the last time he saw Laquez?" Rasha asked.

"At eight o'clock last night, after that the housekeeper went downstairs to his room to rest. Here Láques does not come back very often, so in addition to the butlers, there are only a few museum guards. I've asked them, they didn't see anyone last night, they didn't hear anything, but ......"

"But what?"

The housekeeper said that there was a small hallway out of the office. Mr. Larquis is used to working from home, so where he lives there is a dedicated passage leading directly to the office, but only those who know the electronic lock code can use this passage. He confirmed that if anyone used the channel, it would not attract anyone's attention. ”

"Oh, so the killer probably knew the password, used this passage to infiltrate Mr. Larquis's office, killed him, and then escaped the same way? Well, it seems that the murderer may have been an acquaintance of Mr. Larquis. ”

Sergeant Rasha clapped his hands and quickly came to a conclusion, while making an indisputable gesture to the deputy. In his opinion, this conclusion is taken for granted: "Check it immediately and see if there are any traces of fingerprints on that combination lock." ”

The butler confirmed that nothing was missing from the room, which made Sergeant Rasha more confident in his judgment

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