It was certainly strange how constantly the subject of the missing mummy came uppermost. Since it had disappeared and since the man who had brought it to England was dead, it might have been thought that nothing more would be said about the matter. But Professor Braddock harped incessantly on his loss—which was perhaps natural—and Widow Anne also talked a great deal as to the possibility of the mummy, being found, as she hoped to learn by that means the name of the assassin who had strangled her poor boy. Now Don Pedro de Gayangos appeared with the strange information that the weird relic of Peruvian civilization had been stolen from his father. Apparently fate was not inclined to let the matter of the lost mummy drop, and was working round to a denouement, which would possibly include the solution of the mystery of Sidney Bolton's death. Yet, on the face of it, there appeared to be no chance of the truth becoming known.
Of course, when Don Pedro announced that the Mummy had formerly belonged to his father, every one was anxious to hear how it had been stolen. The Gayangos family were established in Lima, and the embalmed body of Inca Caxas had been purchased from a gentleman residing in Malta. How, then, had it crossed the water, and how had Don Pedro learned its whereabouts, only to arrive too late to secure his missing property? Mrs. Jasher was especially anxious to learn these things, and explained her reasons to Lucy.
“You see, my dear,” she said to the girl on the day after Don Pedro's arrival in Gartley, “if we learn the past of that horrid mummy, we may gain a clue to the person who desired possession of the nasty thing, and so may hunt down this terrible criminal. Once he is found, the mummy may be secured again, and should I be able to return it to your father, out of gratitude he would certainly marry me.”
“You seem to think that the assassin is a man,” said Lucy dryly; “yet you forget that the person who talked to Sidney through the window of the Sailor's Rest was a woman.”
“An old woman,” emphasized Mrs. Jasher briskly: “quite so.”
Lucy contradicted.
“Eliza Flight did not say if the woman was old or young, but merely stated that she wore a dark dress and a dark shawl over her head. Still, this mysterious woman was connected in some way with the murder, else she would not have been speaking to Sidney.”
“I don't follow you, my dear. You talk as though poor Mr. Bolton expected to be murdered. For my part, I hold by the verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. The truth is to be found, if anywhere, in the past of the mummy.”
“We can discover nothing about that.”
“You forget what Don Pedro said, my dear,” remarked Mrs. Jasher hastily, “that the mummy had been stolen from his father. Let us hear what he has to say and we may find a clue. I am anxious that the Professor should regain the green mummy for reasons which you know of. And now, my hear, can you come to dinner to-night?”
“Well, I don't know.” Miss Kendal hesitated. “Archie said that he would look in this evening.”
“I shall ask Mr. Hope also, my love. Don Pedro is coming and his daughter likewise. Needless to say Sir Frank will follow the young lady. We shall be a party of six, and after dinner we must induce Don Pedro to relate the story of how the mummy was stolen.”
“He may not be inclined.”
“Oh, I think so,” replied; Mrs. Jasher quickly. “He wants to get the mummy back again, and if we discuss the subject we may see some chance of securing it.”
“But Don Pedro will not wish it to be restored to my father.”
Mrs. Jasher shrugged her plump shoulders.
“Your father and Don Pedro can arrange that themselves. All I desire is, that the mummy should be found. Undoubtedly it belongs by purchase to the Professor, but as it has been stolen, this Peruvian gentleman may claim it. Well?”
“I shall come and Archie also,” assented Lucy, who was beginning to be interested in the matter. “The affair is somewhat romantic.”
“Criminal, my dear, criminal,” said Mrs. Jasher, rising to take her leave. “It is not a matter I care to mix myself up with. Still”—she laughed—“you know, why I am doing so.”
“If I had to take all this trouble to gain a husband,” observed Lucy somewhat acidly, “I should remain single all my life.”
“If you were as lonely as I am,” retorted the plump widow, “you would do your best to secure a man toy look after you. I should prefer a young and handsomer husband—such as Sir Frank Random, for instance but, as beggars cannot be choosers, I must content myself with old age, a famous scientist, and the chance of a possible title. Now mind, dear, to-night at seven—not a minute later,” and she bustled away to prepare for the reception of her guests.
It seemed to Lucy that Mrs. Jasher was taking a great deal of trouble to become Mrs. Braddock, especially as the Professor's brother might live for many a long day yet, in which case the widow would not gain the title she coveted for years. However, the girl rather sympathized with Mrs. Jasher, who was a companionable soul, and fond of society. Circumstances condemned her to a somewhat lonely life in an isolated cottage in a rather dull neighborhood, so it was little to be wondered at that she should strive to move heaven and earth—as she was doing—in the hope of escaping from her solitude. Besides, although Miss Kendal did not wish to make a close companion of the widow, yet she did not dislike her, and, moreover, thought that she would make Professor Braddock a very presentable wife. Thinking thus, Lucy was quite willing to forward Mrs. Jasher's plans by inducing Don Pedro to tell all he knew about this missing mummy.
Thus it came about that six people assembled in the tiny pink parlor of Mrs. Jasher at the hour of seven o'clock. It required dexterous management to seat the whole company in the dining room, which was only a trifle larger than the parlor. However, Mrs. Jasher contrived to place them round her hospitable board in, a fairly comfortable fashion, and, once seated, the dinner was so good that no one felt the drawbacks of scanty elbow room. The widow, as hostess, was placed at the head of the table; Don Pedro, as the eldest of the men, at the foot; and Sir Frank, with Donna Inez, faced Archie and Lucy Kendal. Jane, who was well instructed in waiting by her mistress, attended to her duties admirably, acting both as footman and butler. Lucy, indeed, had offered Mrs. Jasher the services of Cockatoo to hand round the wine, but the widow with a pretty shudder had declined.
“That dreadful creature with his yellow mop of hair gives me the shivers,” she declared.
Considering the isolation of the district, and the narrow limits of Mrs. Jasher's income, the meal was truly, admirable, being well cooked and well served, while the table was arrayed like an altar for the reception of the various dishes. Whatever Mrs. Jasher might be as an adventuress, she certainly proved herself to be a capital housekeeper, and Lucy foresaw that, if she did become Mrs. Braddock, the Professor would fare sumptuously, for the rest of his scientific life. When the meal was ended the widow produced a box of superfine cigars and another of cigarettes, after which she left the gentlemen to sip their wine, and took her two young friends to chatter chiffons in the tiny parlor. And it said much for Mrs. Jasher's methodical ways that, considering the limited space, everything went—as the saying goes—like clockwork. Likewise, the widow had proved herself a wonderful hostess, as she kept the ball of conversation rolling briskly and induced a spirit of fraternity, uncommon in an ordinary dinner party.
During the meal Mrs. Jasher had kept off the subject of the mummy, which was the excuse for the entertainment; but when the gentlemen strolled into the parlor, feeling well fed and happy, she hinted at Don Pedro's quest. As the night was cold and the Peruvian gentleman came from the tropics, he was established in a well padded arm-chair close to the sea-coal fire, and with her own fair hands Mrs. Jasher gave him a cup of fragrant coffee, which was rendered still more agreeable to the palate by the introduction of a vanilla bean. With this and with a good cigar—for the ladies gave the gentlemen permission to smoke—Don Pedro felt very happy and easy, and complimented Mrs. Jasher warmly on her capability of making her fellow-creatures comfortable.
“It is altogether comfortable, madame,” said Don Pedro, rising to make a courtly bow. In fact, so agreeable was the foreigner that Mrs. Jasher dreamed for one swift moment of throwing over the dry-as-dust scientist to become a Spanish lady of Lima.
“You flatter me, Don Pedro,” she said, waving a wholly unnecessary fan out of compliment to her guest's Spanish extraction. “Indeed, I am very glad that you are pleased with my poor little house.”
“Pardon, madame, but no house can be poor when it is a casket to contain such a jewel.”
“There!” said Lucy somewhat satirically to the young men, while Mrs. Jasher blushed and bridled, “what Englishman could turn such a compliment? It reminds one of Georgian times.”
“We are more sober now than my fathers were then,” said Hope, smiling, “and I am sure if Random thought for a few minutes he could produce something pretty. Go on, Random.”
“My brain is not equal to the strain after dinner,” said Sir Frank.
As for Donna Inez, she did not speak, but sat smiling quietly in her corner of the room, looking remarkably handsome. As a young girl Lucy was pretty, and Mrs. Jasher was a comely widow, but neither one had the majestic looks of the Spanish lady. She smiled, a veritable queen amidst the gim-crack ornaments of Mrs. Jasher's parlor, and Sir Frank, who was fathoms deep in love, could not keep his eyes off her face.
For a few minutes the conversation was frivolous, quite the Shakespeare and musical glasses kind of speech. Then Mrs. Jasher, who had no idea that her good dinner should be wasted in charming nothings, introduced the subject of the mummy by a reference to Professor Braddock. It was characteristic of her cleverness that she did not address Don Pedro, but pointed her speech at Lucy Kendal.
“I do hope your father will return with that mummy,” she observed, after a dexterous allusion to the late tragedy.
“I don't think he has gone to look for it,” replied Miss Kendal indifferently.
“But surely he desired to get it back, after paying nearly one thousand pounds for it,” said Mrs. Jasher, with well-feigned astonishment.
“Oh, of course; but he would scarcely look for it in London.”
“Has Professor Braddock gone to search for the mummy?” asked Don Pedro.
“No,” answered Lucy. “He is visiting the British Museum to make some researches in the Egyptian department.”
“When do you expect him back, please?”
Lucy shrugged her shoulders.
“I can't say, Don Pedro. My father comes and goes as the whim takes him.”
The Spanish gentleman looked thoughtfully into the fire.
“I shall be glad to see the Professor when he returns,” he said in his excellent, slow-sounding English. “My concern about this mummy is deep.”
“Dear me,” remarked Mrs. Jasher, shielding her fair cheek with the unnecessary fan, and venturing on a joke, “is the mummy a relative?”
“Yes, madame,” replied Don Pedro, gravely and unexpectedly.
At this every one, very naturally, looked astonished—that is, all save Donna Inez, who still preserved her fixed smile. Mrs. Jasher took a mental note of the same, and decided that the young lady was not very intelligent. Meanwhile Don Pedro continued his speech after a glance round the circle.
“I have the blood of the royal Inca race in my veins,” he said with pride.
“Ha!” murmured the widow to herself, “then that accounts for your love of color, which is so un-English;” then she raised her voice. “Tell us all about it, Don Pedro,” she entreated; “we are usually so dull here that a romantic story excites us dreadfully.”
“I do not know that it is very romantic,” said Don Pedro with a polite smile, “and if you will not find it dull—”
“Oh, no!” said Archie, who was as anxious as Mrs. Jasher to hear what was to be said about the mummy. “Come, sir, we are all attention.”
Don Pedro bowed again, and again swept the circle with his deep-set eyes.
“The Inca Caxas,” he remarked, “was one of the decadent rulers of ancient Peru. At the Conquest by the Spaniards, Inca Atahuallpa was murdered by Pizarro, as you probably know. Inca Toparca succeeded him as a puppet king. He died also, and it was suspected that he was slain by a native chief called Challcuchima. Then Manco succeeded, and is looked upon by historians as the last Inca of Peru. But he was not.”
“This is news, indeed,” said Random lazily. “And who was the last Inca?”
“The man who is now the green mummy.”
“Inca Caxas,” ventured Lucy timidly.
Don Pedro looked at her sharply. “How do you come to know the name?”
“You mentioned it just now, but, before that, I heard my father mention it,” said Lucy, who was surprised at the sharpness of his tone.
“And where did the Professor learn the name?” asked Don Pedro anxiously.
Lucy shook her head.
“I cannot say. But go on with the story,” she continued, with the naive curiosity of a child.
“Yes, do,” pleaded Mrs. Jasher, who was listening with all her ears.
The Peruvian meditated for a few minutes, then slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat and brought out a discolored parchment, scrawled and scribbled with odd-looking letters in purple ink somewhat faded.
“Did you ever see this before?” he asked Lucy, “or any manuscript like it?”
“No,” she answered, bending forward to examine the parchment carefully.
Don Pedro again swept an inquiring eye round the circle, but everyone denied having seen the manuscript.
“What is it?” asked Sir Frank curiously.
Don Pedro restored the manuscript to his pocket.
“It is an account of the embalming of Inca Caxas, written by his son, who was my ancestor.”
“Then you are descended from this Inca?” said Mrs. Jasher eagerly.
“I am. Had I my rights I should rule Peru. As it is, I am a poor gentleman with very little money. That,” added Don Pedro with emphasis, “is why I wish to recover the mummy of my great ancestor.”
“Is it then so valuable?” asked Archie suddenly. He was thinking of some reason why the mummy should have been stolen.
“Well, in itself it is of no great value, save to an archaeologist,” was Don Pedro's reply; “but I had better tell you the story of how it was stolen from my father.”
“Go on, go on,” cried Mrs. Jasher. “This is most interesting.”
Don Pedro plunged into his story without further preamble.
“Inca Caxas held his state amidst the solitudes of the Andes, away from the cruel men who had conquered his country. He died and was buried. This manuscript,”—he touched his pocket—“was written by his son, and details the ceremonies, the place of sepulchre, and also gives a list of the jewels with which the mummy was buried.”
“Jewels,” murmured Hope under his breath. “I thought as much.”
“The son of Inca Caxas married a Spanish lady and made peace with the Spaniards. He came to live at Cuzco, and brought with him, for some purpose which the manuscript does not disclose, the mummy of his father. But the manuscript was lost for years, and although my family—the De Gayangoses—became poor, no member of it knew that, concealed in the corpse of Inca Caxas, were two large emeralds of immense value. The mummy of our royal ancestor was treated as a sacred thing and venerated accordingly. Afterwards my family came to live at Lima, and I still dwell in the old house.”
“But how was the mummy stolen from you?” asked Random curiously.
“I am coming to that,” said Don Pedro, frowning at the interruption. “I was not in Lima at the time; but I had met the man who stole the precious mummy.”
“Was he a Spaniard?”
“No,” answered Don Pedro slowly, “he was an English sailor called Vasa.”
“Vasa is a Swedish name,” observed Hope critically.
“This man said that he was English, and certainly spoke like an Englishman, so far as I, a foreigner, can tell. At that time, when I was a young man, civil war raged in Peru. My father's house was sacked, and this Vasa, who had been received hospitably by my father when he was shipwrecked at Callao, stole the mummy, of Inca Caxas. My father died of grief and charged me to get the mummy back. When peace was restored to my unhappy country I tried to recover the venerated body of my ancestor. But all search proved vain, as Vasa had disappeared, and it was supposed that, for some reason, he had taken the embalmed body out of the country. It was when the mummy was lost that I unexpectedly came across the manuscript, which detailed the funeral ceremonies of Inca Caxas, and on learning about the two emeralds I was naturally more anxious than ever to discover the mummy and retrieve my fallen fortunes by means of the jewels. But, as I said, all search proved vain, and I afterward married, thinking to settle down on what fortune remained to me. I did live quietly in Lima for years until my wife died. Then with my daughter I came to Europe on a visit.”
“To search for the mummy?” questioned Archie eagerly.
“No, sir. I had given up all hope of finding that. But chance placed a clue in my hands. At Genoa I came across a newspaper, which stated that a mummy in a green case—and a Peruvian mummy at that—was for sale at Malta. I immediately made inquiries, thinking that this was the long-lost body of Inca Caxas. But it so happened that I was too late, as already the mummy had been sold to Professor Braddock, and had been taken to England on board The Diver by Mr. Bolton. Chance, which had pointed out the whereabouts of the mummy, also brought me at Genoa into relations with Sir Frank Random”—Don Pedro bowed his head to the baronet—“and, as it appeared that he knew Professor Braddock, I thankfully accepted his offer to introduce me. Hence I am here, but only to hear that the mummy is again lost. That is all,” and the Peruvian gentleman dramatically waved his arm.
“A strange story,” said Archie, who was the first to speak, “and it certainly solves at least one part of the mystery.”
“What is that?” demanded Mrs. Jasher quickly.
“It shows that the mummy was stolen on account of the emeralds.”
“Pardon me, but that is impossible, sir,” said Don Pedro, drawing up his lean figure. “No one but myself knew that the mummy held two emeralds in its dead hands, and I learned that only a few years ago from the manuscript which I had the honor of showing you.”
“There is that objection assuredly,” replied Hope with composure. “Yet I can hardly believe that any man would risk his neck to steal so remarkable a mummy, which he would have a difficulty in disposing of. But did this assassin know of the emeralds, he would venture much to gain them, since jewels can be disposed of with comparative ease, and cannot easily be traced.”
“All the same,” said Random, looking up, “I do not see how the assassin could have learned that the jewels were wrapped in the bandages.”
“Humph!” said Hope, glancing at De Gayangos, “perhaps there is more than one copy of this manuscript you speak of.”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“The sailor Vasa might have copied it.”
“No.” Don Pedro shook his head. “It is written in Latin, since a Spanish priest taught the son of Inca Caxas, who wrote it, that language. I do not think that Vasa knew Latin. Also, if Vasa had copied the manuscript, he would have stripped the mummy to procure the jewels. Now, in the newspaper advertisement it stated that the bandages of the mummy were intact, as also was the verdant case. No,” said Don Pedro decisively, “I am quite of opinion that Vasa, and indeed everyone else, was ignorant of this manuscript.”
“It seems to me,” suggested Mrs. Jasher, “that it would be best to find this sailor.”
“That,” remarked De Gayangos, “is impossible. It is twenty years since he disappeared with the mummy. Let us drop the subject until Professor Braddock returns to discuss it with me.” And this was accordingly done.
Three days went by, and Professor Braddock still remained absent in London, although an occasional letter to Lucy requested such and such an article from the museum to be forwarded, sometimes by post and on other occasions by Cockatoo, who traveled up to town especially. The Kanaka always returned with the news that his master was looking well, but brought no word of the Professor's return. Lucy was not surprised, as she was accustomed to Braddock's vagaries.
Meanwhile Don Pedro, comfortably established at the Warrior Inn, wandered about Gartley in his dignified way, taking very little interest in the village, but a great deal in the Pyramids. As the Professor was absent, Lucy could not ask him to dinner, but she did invite him and Donna Inez to afternoon tea. Don Pedro was anxious to peep into the museum, but Cockatoo absolutely refused to let him enter, saying that his master had forbidden anyone to view the collection during his absence. And in this refusal Cockatoo was supported by Miss Kendal, who had a wholesome dread of her step-father's rage, should he return and find that a stranger had been making free of his sacred apartments. The Peruvian gentleman expressed himself extremely disappointed, so much so, indeed, that Lucy fancied he believed Braddock had the green mummy hidden in the museum, in spite of the reported loss from the Sailor's Rest.
Failing to get permission to range through the rooms of the Pyramids, Don Pedro paid occasional visits to Pierside and questioned the police regarding the Bolton murder. From Inspector Date he learned nothing of any importance, and indeed that officer expressed his belief that not until the Day of judgment would the truth become known. It then occurred to De Gayangos to explore the neighborhood of the Sailor's Rest, and to examine that public-house himself. He saw the famous window through which the mysterious woman had talked to the deceased, and noted that it looked across a stony, narrow path to the water's edge, wherefrom a rugged jetty ran out into the stream for some little distance. Nothing would have been easier, reflected Don Pedro, than for the assassin to enter by the window, and, having accomplished his deed, to leave in the same way, bearing the case containing the mummy. A few steps would carry the man and his burden to a waiting boat, and once the craft slipped into the mists on the river, all trace would be lost, as had truly happened. In this way the Peruvian gentleman believed the murder and the theft had been accomplished, but even supposing things had happened as he surmised, still, he was as far as ever from unraveling the mystery.
While Don Pedro searched for his royal ancestor's corpse, and incidentally for the thief and murderer, his daughter was being wooed by Sir Frank Random. Heaven only knows what he saw in her—as Lucy observed to young Hope—for the girl had not a word to say for herself. She was undeniably handsome, and dressed with great taste, save for stray hints of barbaric delight in color, doubtless inherited from her Inca ancestors. All the same, she appeared to be devoid of small talk or great talk, or any talk whatsoever. She sat and smiled and looked like a handsome picture, but after her appearance had satisfied the eye, she left much to be desired. Yet Sir Frank approved of her stately quietness, and seemed anxious to make her his wife. Lucy, in spite of the fact that he had so speedily got over her refusal to marry him, was anxious that he should be happy with Donna Inez, whom he appeared to love, and afforded him every opportunity of meeting the lady, so that he might prosecute his wooing. All the same, she wondered that he should desire to marry an iceberg, and Donna Inez, with her silent tongue and cold smiles, was little else. However, as Frank Random was the chief party concerned in the love-making—for Donna Inez was merely passive—there was no more to be said.
Sometimes Hope came to dine at the Pyramids, and on these occasions Mrs. Jasher was present in her character of chaperon. As Miss Kendal was helping the widow to marry Professor Braddock, she in her turn did her best to speed Archie's wooing. Certainly the young couple were engaged and there was no understanding to be brought about. Nevertheless, Mrs. Jasher was a useful article of furniture to be in the room when they were together, for Gartley, like all English villages, was filled with scandalmongers, who would have talked, had Hope and Lucy not employed Mrs. Jasher as gooseberry. Sometimes Donna Inez came with the widow, while her father was hunting for the mummy in Pierside, and then Sir Frank Random would be sure to put in an appearance to woo his Dulcinea in admiring silence. Mrs. Jasher declared that the two must have made love by telepathy, for they rarely exchanged a word. But this was all the better, as Archie and Lucy chattered a great deal, and two pair of magpies—Mrs. Jasher declared—would have been too much for her nerves. She made a very good chaperon, as she allowed the young people to act as they pleased, only sanctioning the meetings by her elderly presence.
One evening Mrs. Jasher was due to dinner, and Hope had already arrived. No one else was expected, as Don Pedro had taken his daughter to the theatre at Pierside and Sir Frank had gone to London in connection with his military duties. It was a bitterly cold night, and already a fall of snow had hinted that there was to be a real English Christmas of the genuine kind. Lucy had prepared an excellent dinner for three, and Archie had brought a set of new patience cards for Mrs. Jasher, who was fond of the game. While the widow played, the lovers hoped to make love undisturbed, and looked forward to a happy evening. But there was one drawback, for although the dinner hour was supposed to be eight o'clock, and it was now thirty minutes past, Mrs. Jasher had not arrived. Lucy was dismayed.
“What can be keeping her?” she asked Archie, to which that young gentleman replied that he did not know, and, what was more, he did not care. Miss Kendal very properly rebuked this sentiment. “You ought to care, Archie, for you know that if Mrs. Jasher does not come to dinner, you will have to go away.”
“Why should I?” he inquired sulkily.
“People will talk.”
“Let them. I don't care.”
“Neither do I, you stupid boy. But my father will care, and if people talk he will be very angry.”
“My dear Lucy,” and Archie put his arm round her waist to say this, “I don't see why you should be afraid of the Professor. He is only your step-father, and you aren't so very fond of him as to mind what he says. Besides, we can marry soon, and then he can go hang.”
“But I don't want him to go hang,” she replied, laughing. “After all, the Professor has always been kind to me, and as a step-father has behaved very well, when he could easily have made himself disagreeable. Another thing is that he can be very bad tempered when he likes, and if I let people talk about us—which they will do if they get a chance—he will behave so coldly to me, that I shall have a disagreeable time. As we can't marry for ever so long, I don't want to be uncomfortable.”
“We can marry whenever you like,” said Hope unexpectedly.
“What, with your income so unsettled?”
“It is not unsettled.”
“Yes, it is. You will help that horrid spendthrift uncle of yours, and until he and his family are solvent I don't see how we can be sure of our money.”
“We are sure of it now, dearest. Uncle Simon has turned up trumps after all, and so have his investments.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“I mean that yesterday I received a letter from him saying that he was now rich, and would pay back all I had lent him. I went up to London to-day, and had an interview. The result of that is that I am some thousands to the good, that Uncle Simon is well off for the rest of his life and will require no more assistance, and that my three hundred a year is quite clear for ever and ever and ever.”
“Then we can marry,” cried Miss Kendal with a gasp of delight.
“Whenever you choose—next week if you like.”
“In January then—just after Christmas. We'll go on a trip to Italy and return to take a flat in London. Oh, Archie, I am sorry I thought so badly of your uncle. He has behaved very well. And what a mercy it is that he will require no more assistance! You are sure he will not.”
“If he does, he won't get it,” said Hope candidly. “While I was a bachelor I could assist him; but when I am married I must look after myself and my wife.” He gave Lucy a hug. “It's all right now, dear, and Uncle Simon has behaved excellently—far better than I expected. We shall go to Italy for the honeymoon and need not hurry back until we—well, say until we quarrel.”
“In that case we shall live in Italy for the rest of our lives,” said Lucy with twinkling eyes; “but we must come back in a year and take a studio in Chelsea.”
“Why not in Gartley? Remember, the Professor will be lonely.”
“No, he won't. Mrs. Jasher, as I told you, intends to marry him.”
“He might not wish to marry her”
“That doesn't matter,” rejoined Lucy, with the cleverness of a woman. “She can manage to bring the marriage about. Besides, I want to break with the old life here, and begin quite a new one with you. When I am your wife and Mrs. Jasher is my step-father's, everything will be capitally arranged.”
“Well, I hope so,” said Archie heartily, “for I want you all to myself and have no desire to share you with anyone else. But I say,” he glanced at his watch; “it is getting towards nine o'clock, and I am desperately hungry. Can't we go to dinner?”
“Not until Mrs. Jasher arrives,” said Lucy primly.
“Oh, bother—!”
Hope, being quite exasperated with hunger, would have launched out into a speech condemning the widow's unpunctuality, when in the hall below the drawing-room was heard the sound of the door opening and closing. Without doubt this was Mrs. Jasher arriving at last, and Lucy ran out of the room and down the stairs to welcome her in her eagerness to get Archie seated at the dinner table. The young man lingered by the open door of the drawing-room, ready to welcome the widow, when he heard Lucy utter an exclamation of surprise and became aware that she was ascending the stairs along with Professor Braddock. At once he reflected there would be trouble, since he was in the house with Lucy, and lacked the necessary chaperon which Braddock's primitive Anglo-Saxon instincts insisted upon.
“I did not know you were returning to-night,” Lucy was saying when she re-entered the drawing-room with her step-father.
“I arrived by the six o'clock train,” explained the Professor, unwinding a large red scarf from his neck, and struggling out of his overcoat with the assistance of his daughter. “Ha, Hope, good evening.”
“Where have you been since?” asked Lucy, throwing the Professor's coat and wraps on to a chair.
“With Mrs. Jasher,” said Braddock, warming his plump hands at the fire. “So you must blame me that she is not here to preside at dinner as the chaperon of you young people.”
Lucy and her lover glanced at one another in surprise. This light and airy tone was a new one for the Professor to take. Instead of being angry, he seemed to be unusually gay, and looked at them in quite a jocular manner for a dry-as-dust scientist.
“We waited dinner for her, father,” ventured Lucy timidly.
“Then I am ready to eat it,” announced Braddock. “I am extremely hungry, my dear. I can't live on love, you know.”
“Live on love?” Lucy stared, and Archie laughed quietly.
“Oh yes, you may smile and look astonished;” went on the Professor good-humoredly, “but science does not destroy the primeval instincts entirely. Lucy, my dear,” he took her hand and patted it, “while in London and in lodgings, it was borne in upon me forcibly how lonely I was and how lonely I would be when you married our young friend yonder. I had intended to come down to-morrow, but to-night, such was my feeling of loneliness that I considered favorably your idea that I should find a second helpmate in Mrs. Jasher. I have always had a profound admiration for that lady, and so—on the spur of the moment, as I may say—I decided to come down this evening and propose.”
“Oh,” Lucy clapped her hands, very well satisfied with the unexpected news, “and have you?”
“Mrs. Jasher,” said the Professor gravely, “did me the honor to promise to become my wife this evening.”
“She will become your wife this evening?” said Archie, smiling.
Braddock, with one of those odd twists of humor which were characteristic of him, became irascible.
“Confound it, sir, don't I speak English,” he snapped, with his eyes glaring rebuke. “She promised this evening to become Mrs. Braddock. We shall marry—so we have arranged—in the springtime, which is the natural pairing season for human beings as well as for birds. And I am glad to say that Mrs. Jasher takes a deep interest in archaeology.”
“And, what is more, she is a splendid housekeeper,” said Lucy.
The temporary anger of the Professor vanished. He drew his step-daughter towards him and kissed her on the cheek.
“I believe that I have to thank you for putting the idea into my head,” said he, “and also—if Mrs. Jasher is to be believed—for aiding her to see the mutual advantage it would be to both of us to marry. Ha,” he released Lucy and rubbed his hands, “let us go to dinner.”
“I am very glad,” said Miss Kendal heartily.
“So am I, so am I,” replied Braddock, nodding. “As you very truly observed, my child, the house would have gone to rack and ruin without a woman to look after my interests. Well,” he took the arms of the two young people, “I really think that we must have a bottle of champagne on the strength of it.”
Shortly the trio were seated at the table, and Braddock explained that Mrs. Jasher, being overcome by his proposal, had not been able to face the ordeal of congratulations.
“But she will come to-morrow,” said he, as Cockatoo filled three glasses.
“Indeed, I shall congratulate her to-night,” said Lucy obstinately. “As soon as dinner is over, I shall go with Archie to her house, and tell her how pleased I am.”
“It is very cold for you to be out, Lucy dear,” urged Archie anxiously.
“Oh, I can wrap up warmly,” she answered.
Strange to say, the Professor made no objection to the excursion, although Hope quite expected such a stickler for etiquette to refuse permission to his step-daughter. But Braddock seemed rather pleased than otherwise. His proposal of marriage seemed to have put him into excellent humor, and he raised his glass with a chuckle.
“I drink to your happiness, my dear Lucy, and to that of Mrs. Jasher's.”
“And I drink to Archie's and to yours, father,” she replied. “I am glad that you will not be lonely when we are married. Archie and I wish to become one in January.”
“Yes,” said Hope, finishing his champagne, “my income is now all right, as my uncle has paid up.”
“Very good, very good. I make no objection,” said Braddock placidly. “I will give you a handsome wedding present, Lucy, for you may have heard that my future wife has money left to her by her brother, who was lately a merchant in Pekin. She is heart and hand with me in our proposed expedition to Egypt.”
“Will you go there for the honeymoon, sir?” asked Hope.
“Not exactly for the honeymoon, since we are to be married in spring, and my expedition to the tomb of Queen Tahoser cannot start until the late autumn. But Mrs. Braddock will come with me. That is only just, since it will be her money which will furnish the sinews of war.”
“Well, everything is arranged very well,” said Lucy. “I marry Archie; you, father, make Mrs. Jasher your wife; and I suspect Sir Frank will marry Donna Inez.”
“Ha!” said Braddock with a start, “the daughter of De Gayangos, who has come here for the missing mummy. Mrs. Jasher told me somewhat of that, my dear. But I shall see Don Pedro myself to-morrow. Meanwhile, let us eat and drink. I must go down to the museum, and you—”
“We shall go to congratulate Mrs. Jasher,” said Lucy.
So it was arranged, and shortly Professor Braddock retired into his sanctum along with the devoted Cockatoo, who displayed lively joy on beholding his master once more. Lucy, after being carefully wrapped up by Archie, set out with that young man to congratulate the bride-elect. It was just half-past nine when they started out.
The night was frosty and the stars twinkled like jewels in a cloudless sky of dark blue. The moon shone with hard brilliance on the ground, which was powdered with a light fall of snow. As the young people walked briskly through the village, their footsteps rang on the frosty earth and they scrunched the snow in their quick tread. The Warrior Inn was still open, as it was not late, and lights shone from the windows of the various cottages. When the two, following the road through the marshes, emerged from the village, they saw the great mass of the Fort bulking blackly against the clear sky, the glittering stream of the Thames, and the marshes outlined in delicate white. The fairy world of snow and moonlight appealed to Archie's artistic sense, and Lucy approving of the same, they did not hurry to arrive at their destination.
But shortly they saw the squarely fenced acre of ground near the embankment, wherein Mrs. Jasher's humble abode was placed. Light shone through the pink curtains of the drawing-room, showing that the widow had not yet retired. In a few minutes the lovers were at the gate and promptly entered. It was then that one of those odd things happened which would argue that some people are possessed of a sixth sense.
Archie closed the gate after him, and, glancing right and left, walked up the snowy path with Lucy. To the right was a leafless arbor, also powdered with snow, and against the white bulked a dark form something like a coffin. Hope out of curiosity went up to it.
“What the deuce is this?” he asked himself; then raised his voice in loud surprise. “Lucy! Lucy! come here!”
“What is it?” she asked, running up.
“Look”—he pointed to the oddly shaped case—“the green mummy!”
Neither Lucy nor Archie Hope had ever seen the mummy, but they knew the appearance which it would present, as Professor Braddock, with the enthusiasm of an archaeologist, had often described the same to them. It appeared, according to Braddock, that on purchasing the precious corpse in Malta, his dead assistant had written home a full description of the treasure trove. Consequently, being advised beforehand, Hope had no difficulty in recognizing the oddly shaped case, which was made somewhat in the Egyptian form. On the impulse of the moment he had proclaimed this to be the long-lost mummy, and when a closer examination by the light of a lucifer match revealed the green hue of the coffin wood, he knew that he was right.
But what was the mummy in its ancient case doing in Mrs. Jasher's arbor? That was the mute question which the two young people asked themselves and each other, as they stood in the chilly moonlight, staring at the grotesque thing. The mummy had disappeared from the Sailor's Rest at Pierside some weeks ago, and now unexpectedly appeared in a lonely garden, surrounded by marshes. How it had been brought there, or why it should have been brought there, or who had brought it to such an unlikely place, were questions hard to answer. However, the most obvious thing to do was to question Mrs. Jasher, since the uncanny object was lying within a stone-throw of her home. Lucy, after a rapid word or two, went to ring the bell, and summon the lady, while Archie stood by the arbor, wondering how the mummy came to be there. In the same way George III had wondered how the apples got into the dumplings.
Far and wide spread the marshes, flatly towards the shore of the river on one side, but on the other sloping up to Gartley village, which twinkled with many lights on the rising ground. Some distance away the Fort rose black and menacing in the moonlight, and the mighty stream of the Thames glittered like polished steel as it flowed seaward. As there were only a few leafless trees dotted about the marshy ground, and as that same ground, lightly sprinkled with powdery snow, revealed every moving object for quite a mile or so, Hope could not conceive how the mummy case, which seemed heavy, could have been brought into the silent garden without its bearers being seen. It was not late, and soldiers were still returning through Gartley to the Fort. Then, again, some noise must have been caused by so bulky an object being thrust through the narrow wicket, and Mrs. Jasher, inhabiting a wooden house, which was a very sea-shell for sound, might have heard footsteps and voices. If those who had brought the mummy here—and there was more than one from the size of the case—could be discovered, then the mystery of Sidney Bolton's death would be solved very speedily. It was at this moment of his reflections that Lucy returned to the arbor, leading Mrs. Jasher, who was attired in a tea-gown and who looked bewildered.
“What are you talking about, my dear?” she said, as Lucy led her towards the arbor. “I declare I was ever so much astonished, when Jane told me that you wished to speak to me. I was just writing a letter to the lawyer who has my poor brother's property in hand, announcing my engagement to the Professor. Mr. Hope? You here also. Well, I'm sure.”
Lucy grew impatient at all this babble.
“Did you not hear what I said, Mrs. Jasher?” she cried irritably. “Can't you use your eyes? Look! The green mummy is in your arbor.”
“The—green—mummy—in—my—arbor,” repeated Mrs. Jasher, like a child learning words of one syllable, and staring at the black object before which the three were standing.
“As you see,” said Archie abruptly. “How did it come here?”
He spoke harshly. Of course, it was absurd to accuse Mrs. Jasher of knowing anything about the matter, since she had been writing letters. Still, the fact remained that a mummy, which had been thieved from a murdered man, was in her arbor, and naturally she was called upon to explain.
Some suspicion in his tone struck the little woman, and she turned on him with indignation.
“How did it come here?” she repeated. “Now, how can I tell, you silly boy. I have been writing to my lawyer about my engagement to Mr. Braddock. I daresay he has told you.”
“Yes,” chimed in Miss Kendal, “and we came here to congratulate you, only to find the mummy.”
“Is that the horrid thing?” Mrs. Jasher stared with all her eyes, and timidly touched the hard green-stained wood.
“It's the case—the mummy is inside.”
“But I thought that the Professor opened the case to find the body of poor Sidney Bolton,” argued Mrs. Jasher.
“That was a packing case in which this”—Archie struck the old-world coffin—“was stored. But this is the corpse of Inca Caxas, about which Don Pedro told us the other night. How does it come to be hidden in your garden?”
“Hidden.” Mrs. Jasher repeated the word with a laugh. “There is not much hiding about it. Why, every one can see it from the path.”
“And from the door of your house,” remarked Hope significantly. “Did you not see it when you took leave of Braddock?”
“No,” snapped the widow. “If I had I should certainly have come to look. Also Professor Braddock, who is so anxious to recover it, would not have allowed it to remain here.”
“Then the case was not here when the Professor left you to-night?”
“No! He left me at eight o'clock to go home to dinner.”
“When did he arrive here?” questioned Hope quickly.
“At seven. I am sure of the time, for I was just sitting down to my supper. He was here an hour. But he said nothing, when he entered, of any mummy being in the arbor; nor when he left me at the door and I came to say good-bye to him—did either of us see this object. To be sure,” added Mrs. Jasher meditatively, “we did not look particularly in the direction of this arbor.”
“I scarcely see how any one entering or leaving the garden could fail to see it, especially as the snow reflects the moonlight so brightly.”
Mrs. Jasher shivered, and taking the skirt of her tea-gown, flung it over her carefully attired head,
“It is very cold,” she remarked irritably. “Don't you think we had better return to the house, and talk there?”
“What!” said Archie grimly, “and leave the mummy to be carried away as mysteriously as it has been brought. No, Mrs. Jasher. That mummy represents one thousand pounds of my money.”
“I understood that the Professor bought it himself.”
“So he did, but I supplied the purchase money. Therefore I do not intend that this should be lost sight of again. Lucy, my dear, you run home again and tell your father what we have found. He had better bring men, to take it to his museum. When it is there, Mrs. Jasher can then explain how it came to be in her garden.”
Without a word Lucy set off, walking quickly, anxious to fulfill her mission and gladden the heart of her step-father with the amazing news.
Archie and Mrs. Jasher were left alone, and the former lighted a cigarette, while he tapped the mummy case, and examined it as closely as the pale gleam of the moonlight permitted. Mrs. Jasher made no move to enter the house, much as she had complained of the cold. But perhaps she found the flimsy skirt of the tea-gown sufficient protection.
“It seems to me, Mr. Hope,” said she very tartly, “that you suspect my having a hand in this,” and she tapped the mummy coffin also.
“Pardon me,” observed Hope very politely, “but I suspect nothing, because I have no grounds upon which to base my suspicions. But certainly it is odd that this missing mummy should be found in your garden. You will admit that much.”
“I admit nothing of the sort,” she rejoined coolly. “Only myself and Jane live in the cottage, and you don't expect that two delicate women could move this huge thing.” She tapped the case again. “Moreover, had I found the mummy I should have taken it to the Pyramids at once, so as to give Professor Braddock some pleasure.”
“It will certainly be an acceptable wedding present,” said Archie sarcastically.
“Pardon me,” said Mrs. Jasher in her turn, “but I have nothing to do with it as a present or otherwise. How the thing came into my arbor I really cannot say. As I told you, Professor Braddock made no remark about it when he came; and when he left, although I was at the door, I did not notice anything in this arbor. Indeed I cannot say if I ever looked in this direction.”
Archie mused and glanced at his watch.
“The Professor told Lucy that he came by the six train: you say that he was here at seven.”
“Yes, and he left at eight. What is the time now?”
“Ten o'clock, or a few minutes after. Therefore, since neither you nor Braddock saw the mummy, I take it that the case was brought here by some unknown people between eight o'clock and a quarter to ten, about which time I arrived here with Lucy.”
Mrs. Jasher nodded.
“You put the matter very clearly,” she observed dryly. “You have mistaken your vocation, Mr. Hope, and should have been a criminal lawyer. I should turn detective were I you.”
“Why?” asked Archie with a start.
“You might ascertain my movements on the night when the crime was committed,” snapped the little widow. “A woman muffled in a shawl, in much the same way as my head is now muffled in my skirt, talked to Bolton through the bedroom window of the Sailor's Rest, you know.”
Hope expostulated.
“My dear lady, how you run on! I assure you that I would as soon suspect Lucy as you.”
“Thank you,” said the widow very dryly and very tartly.
“I merely wish to point out,” went on Archie in a conciliatory tone, “that, as the mummy in its case—as appears probable—was brought into your garden between the hours of eight and ten, less fifteen minutes, that you may have heard the voices or footsteps of those who carried it here.”
“I heard nothing,” said Mrs. Jasher, turning towards the path. “I had my supper, and played a game or two of patience, and then wrote letters, as I told you before. And I am not going to stand in the cold, answering silly questions, Mr. Hope. If you wish to talk you must come inside.”
Hope shook his head and lighted a fresh cigarette.
“I stand guard over this mummy until its rightful owner comes,” said he determinedly.
“Ho!” rejoined Mrs. Jasher scornfully: she was now at the door. “I understood that you bought the mummy and therefore were its owner. Well, I only hope you'll find those emeralds Don Pedro talked about,” and with a light laugh she entered the cottage.
Archie looked after her in a puzzled way. There was no reason to suspect Mrs. Jasher, so far as he saw, even though a woman had been seen talking to Bolton on the night of the crime. And yet, why should the widow refer to the emeralds, which were of such immense value, according to Don Pedro? Hope glanced at the case and shook the primitive coffin, anxious for the moment to open it and ascertain if the jewels were still clutched grimly in the mummy's dead hands. But the coffin was fastened tightly down with wooden pegs, and could only be opened with extreme care and difficulty. Also, as Hope reflected, even did he manage to open this receptacle of the dead, he still could not ascertain if the emeralds were safe, since they would be hidden under innumerable swathings of green-dyed llama wool. He therefore let the matter rest there, and, staring at the river, wondered how the mummy had been brought to the garden in the marshes.
Hope recollected that experts had decided the mode in which the mummy had been removed from the Pierside public-house. It had been passed through the window, according to Inspector Date and others, and, when taken across the narrow path which bordered the river, had been placed in a waiting boat. After that it had vanished until it had re-appeared in this arbor. But if taken by water once, it could have been taken by water again. There was a rude jetty behind the embankment, which Hope could easily see from where he stood. In all probability the mummy had been landed there and carried to the garden, while Mrs. Jasher was busy with her supper and her game of cards and her letters. Also, the path from the shore to the house was very lonely, and if any care had been exercised, which was probable, no one from the Fort road or from the village street could have seen the stealthy conspirators bringing their weird burden. So far Hope felt that he could argue excellently. But who had brought the mummy to the garden and why had it been brought there? These questions he could not answer so easily, and indeed not at all.
While thus meditating, he heard, far away in the frosty air, a puffing and blowing and panting like an impatient motor-car. Before he could guess what this was, Braddock appeared, simply racing along the marshy causeway, followed closely by Cockatoo, and at some distance away by Lucy. The little scientist rushed through the gate, which he flung open with a noise fit to wake the dead, and lunged forward, to fall with outstretched arms upon the green case. There he remained, still puffing and blowing, and looked as though he were hugging a huge green beetle. Cockatoo, who, being lean and hard, kept his breath more easily, stood respectfully by, waiting for his master to give orders, and Lucy came in quietly by the gate, smiling at her father's enthusiasm. At the same moment Mrs. Jasher, well wrapped up in a coat of sables, emerged from the cottage.
“I heard you coming, Professor,” she called out, hurrying down the path.
“I should think the whole Fort heard the Professor coming,” said Hope, glancing at the dark mass. “The soldiers must think it is an invasion.”
But Braddock paid no heed to this jocularity, or even to Mrs. Jasher, to whom he had been so lately engaged. All his soul was in the mummy case, and as soon as he recovered his breath, he loudly proclaimed his joy at this miraculous recovery of the precious article.
“Mine! mine!” he roared, and his words ran violently through the frosty air.
“Be calm, sir,” advised Hope—“be calm.”
“Calm! calm!” bellowed Braddock, struggling to a standing position. “Oh, confound you, sir, how can I be calm when I find what I have lost? You have a mean, groveling soul, Hope, not the soaring spirit of a collector.”
“There is no need to be rude to Archie, father,” corrected Lucy sharply.
“Rude! Rude! I am never rude. But this mummy.” Braddock peered closely at it and rapped the wood to assure himself it was no phantom. “Yes! it is my mummy, the mummy of Inca Caxas. Now I shall learn how the Peruvians embalmed their royal dead. Mine! mine! mine!” He crooned like a mother over a child, caressing the coffin; then suddenly drew himself upright and fixed Mrs. Jasher with an indignant eye. “So it was you, madam, who stole my mummy,” he declared venomously, “and I thought of making you my wife. Oh, what an escape I have had. Shame, woman, shame!”
Mrs. Jasher stared, then her face grew redder than the rouge on her cheeks, and she stamped furiously in the neat Louis Quinze slippers in which she had in judiciously come out.
“How dare you say what you have said?” she cried, her voice shrill and hard with anger. “Mr. Hope has been saying the same thing. Are you both mad? I never set eyes on the horrid thing in my life. And only to-night you told me that you loved—”
“Yes, yes, I said many foolish things, I don't doubt, madam. But that is not the question. My mummy! my mummy!” he rapped the wood furiously—“how does my mummy come to be here?”
“I don't know,” said Mrs. Jasher, still furious, “and I don't care.”
“Don't care: don't care, when I look forward to your helping me in my lifework! As my wife—”
“I shall never be your wife,” cried the widow, stamping again. “I wouldn't be your wife for a thousand or a million pounds. Marry your mummy, you horrid, red-faced, crabbed little—”
“Hush! hush!” whispered Lucy, taking the angry woman round the waist, “you must make allowances for my father. He is so excited over his good fortune that he—”
“I shall not make allowance,” interrupted Mrs. Jasher angrily. “He practically accuses me of stealing the mummy. If I did that, I must have murdered poor Sidney Bolton.”
“No, no,” cried the Professor, wiping his red face. “I never hinted at such a thing. But the mummy is in your garden.”
“What of that? I don't know how it came there. Mr. Hope, surely you do not support Professor Braddock in his preposterous accusation?”
“I bring no accusation,” stuttered the Professor.
“Neither do I, Mrs. Jasher. You are excited now. Go in and sleep, and to-morrow you will talk reasonably.” This brilliant speech was from Hope, and wrought Mrs. Jasher into a royal rage.
“Well,” she gasped, “he asks me to be calm, as it I wasn't the very calmest person here. I declare: oh, I shall be ill! Lucy,” she seized the girl's hand and dragged her towards the cottage, “come in and give me red lavender. I shall be in bed for days and days and days. Oh, what brutes men can be! But listen, you two horrors,” she indicated Braddock and Hope, as she pushed open the door, “if you dare to say a word against me, I'll have an action for libel against you. Oh, dear me, how very ill I feel! Lucy, darling, help me, oh, help me, and—and—oh—oh—oh!” She flopped down on the threshold of her home with a cry.
“Archie! Archie! She's fainted.”
Hope rushed forward, and raised the stout little woman in his arms. Jane, attracted by the clamor, appeared on the scene, and between the three of them they managed to get Mrs. Jasher placed on the sofa of the pink drawing-room. She certainly was in a dead faint, so Hope left her to the administrations of Lucy and the servant, and walked out again into the garden, closing the cottage door after him.
He found the heartless Professor quite oblivious to Mrs. Jasher's sufferings, so taken up was he with the newly found mummy. Cockatoo had been sent for a hand-cart, and while he was absent Braddock expatiated on the perfections of this relic of Peruvian civilization.
“Will you sell it to Don Pedro?” asked Hope.
“After I have done with it, not before,” snapped Braddock, hovering round his treasure. “I shall want a percentage on my bargain also.”
Archie thought privately that if Braddock unswathed the mummy, he would find the emeralds and would probably stick to them, so that his expedition to Egypt might be financed. It that case Don Pedro would no longer wish to buy the corpse of his ancestor. But while he debated as to the advisability of telling the Professor of the existence of the emeralds, Cockatoo returned with the hand-cart.
“You have lost Mrs. Jasher,” said Hope, while he, assisted the Professor to hoist the mummy on to the cart.
“Never mind! never mind!” Braddock patted the coffin. “I have found something much more to my mind: something ever so much better. Ha! ha!”
In spite of newspapers and letters and tape-machines and telegrams and such like aids to the speedy diffusion of news, the same travels quicker in villages than in cities. Word of mouth can spread gossip with marvelous rapidity in sparsely inhabited communities, since it is obvious that in such places every person knows the other—as the saying goes—inside out. In every English village walls have ears and windows have eyes, so that every cottage is a hot-bed of scandal, and what is known to one is, within the hour, known to the others. Even the Sphinx could not have preserved her secret long in such a locality.
Gartley could keep up its reputation in this respect along with the best, therefore it was little to be wondered at, that early next morning every one knew that Professor Braddock had found his long-lost mummy in Mrs. Jasher's garden, and had removed the same to the Pyramids without unnecessary delay. It was not particularly late when the hand-cart, with its uncanny burden, had passed along the sole street of the place, and several men had emerged from the Warrior Inn ostensibly to offer help, but really to know what the eccentric master of the great house was doing. Braddock brusquely rejected these offers; but the oddly shaped mummy case, stained green, having been seen, it needed little wit for those who had caught a sight of it to put two and two together, especially as the weird object had been described at the inquest and had been talked over ever since in every cottage. And as the cart had been seen coming out of the widow's garden, it naturally occurred to the villagers that Mrs. Jasher had been concealing the mummy. Shortly the rumor spread that she had also murdered Bolton, for unless she had done so, she certainly—according to village logic—could not have been possessed of the spoil. Finally, as Mrs. Jasher's doors and windows were small and the mummy was rather bulky, it was natural to presume that she had hidden it in the garden. Report said she had buried it and had dug it up just in time to be pounced upon by its rightful owner. From which it can be seen that gossip is not invariably accurate.
However this may be, the news of Professor Braddock's good fortune shortly came to Don Pedro's ears through the medium of the landlady. As she revealed what she had heard in the morning, the Peruvian gentleman was spared a sleepless night. But as soon as he learned the truth—which was surprising enough in its unexpectedness—he hastily finished his breakfast and hurried to the Pyramids. As yet he had not intended to see Braddock so promptly, or at least not until he had made further inquiries at Pierside, but the news that Braddock possessed the royal ancestor of the De Gayangoses brought him immediately into the museum. He greeted the Professor in his usual grave and dignified manner, and no one would have guessed from his inherent calmness that the unexpected news of Braddock's arrival, and the still more unexpected information about the green mummy, had surprised him beyond measure. Being somewhat superstitious, it also occurred to Don Pedro that the coincidence meant good fortune to him in the recovery of his long-lost ancestor.
Braddock, already knowing a great deal about Don Pedro from Lucy and Archie Hope, was only too pleased to see the Peruvian, hoping to find in him a kindred spirit. As yet the Professor was not aware of the contents of the ancient Latin manuscript, which revealed the fact of the hidden emeralds, since Hope had decided to leave it to the Peruvian to impart the information. Archie knew very well that Don Pedro—as he had plainly stated—wished to purchase the mummy, and it was only right that Braddock should know what he was selling. But Hope forgot one important fact perhaps from the careless way in which Don Pedro had told his story—namely, that the Professor in a second degree was a receiver of stolen goods. Therefore it was more than probable that the Peruvian would claim the mummy as his own property. Still, in that event he would have to prove his claim, and that would not be easy.
The plump little professor had not yet unsealed the case, and when Don Pedro entered, he was standing before it rubbing his fat hands, with a gloating expression in his face. However, as Cockatoo had brought in the Peruvian's card, Braddock expected his visitor and wheeled to face him.
“How are you, sir?” said he, extending his hand. “I am glad to see you, as I hear that you know all about this mummy of Inca Caxas.”
“Well, I do,” answered De Gayangos, sitting down in the chair which his host pushed forward. “But may I ask who told you that this mummy was that of the last Inca?”
Braddock pinched his plump chin and replied readily, enough.
“Certainly, Don Pedro. I wished to learn the difference in embalming between the Egyptians and the ancient Peruvians, and looked about for a South American corpse. Unexpectedly I saw in several European newspapers and in two English journals that a green Peruvian mummy was for sale at Malta for one thousand pounds. I sent my assistant, Sidney Bolton, to buy it, and he managed to get it, coffin and all, for nine hundred. While in Malta, and before he started back in The Diver with the mummy, he wrote me an account of the transaction. The seller—who was the son of a Maltese collector—told Bolton that his father had picked up the mummy in Paris some twenty and more years ago. It came from Lima some thirty years back, I believe, and, according to the collector in Paris, was the corpse of Inca Caxas. That is the whole story.”
Don Pedro nodded gravely.
“Was there a Latin manuscript delivered along with the mummy?” he asked.
Braddock's eyes opened widely.
“No, sir. The mummy came thirty years ago from Lima to Paris. It passed twenty years back into the possession of the Maltese collector, and his son sold it to me a few months ago. I never heard of any manuscript.”
“Then Mr. Hope did not repeat to you what I told him the other night?”
The Professor sat down and his mouth grew obstinate.
“Mr. Hope related some story you told him and others about this mummy having been stolen from you.”
“From my father,” corrected the unsmiling Peruvian; keeping a careful eye on his host; “that is really the case. Inca Caxas is, or was, my ancestor, and this manuscript”—Don Pedro produced the same from his inner pocket—“details the funeral ceremonies.”
“Very interesting; most interesting,” fussed Braddock, stretching out his hand. “May I see it?”
“You read Latin,” observed Don Pedro, surrendering the manuscript.
Braddock raised his eyebrows.
“Of course,” he said simply, “every well-educated man reads Latin, or should do so. Wait, sir, until I glance through this document.”
“One moment,” said Don Pedro, as the Professor began to literally devour the discolored page. “You know from Hope, I have no doubt, how I chance upon my own property in Europe?”
Braddock, still with his eyes on the manuscript, mumbled
“Your own property. Quite so: quite so.”
“You admit that. Then you will no doubt restore the mummy to me.”
By this time the drift of Don Pedro's observations entirely reached the understanding of the scientist, and he dropped the document he was reading to leap to his feet.
“Restore the mummy to you!” he gasped. “Why, it is mine.”
“Pardon me,” said the Peruvian, still gravely but very decisively, “you admitted that it belonged to me.”
Braddock's face deepened to a fine purple.
“I didn't know what I was saying,” he protested. “How could I say it was your property when I have bought it for nine hundred pounds?”
“It was stolen from me.”
“That has got to be proved,” said Braddock caustically.
Don Pedro rose, looking more like, Don Quixote than ever.
“I have the honor to give you my word and—”
“Yes, yes. That is all right. I cast no imputation on your honor.”
“I should think not,” said the other coldly but strongly.
“All the same, you can scarcely expect me to part with so valuable an object,” Braddock waved his hand towards the case, “without strict inquiry into the circumstances. And again, sir, even if you succeed in proving your ownership, I am not inclined to restore the mummy to you for nothing.”
“But it is stolen property you are keeping from me.”
“I know nothing about that: I have only your bare word that it is so, Don Pedro. All I know is that I paid nine hundred pounds for the mummy and that it cost the best part of another hundred to bring it to England. What I have, I keep.”
“Like your country,” said the Peruvian sarcastically.
“Precisely,” replied the Professor suavely. “Every Englishman has a bull-dog tenacity of purpose. Brag is a good dog, Don Pedro, but Holdfast is a better one.”
“Then I understand,” said the Peruvian, stretching out his hand to pick up the fallen manuscript, “that you will keep the mummy.”
“Certainly,” said Braddock coolly, “since I have paid for it. Also, I shall keep the jewels, which the manuscript tells me—from the glance I obtained of it—were buried with it.”
“The sole jewels buried are two large emeralds which the mummy holds in its hands,” explained Don Pedro, restoring the manuscript to his pocket, “and I wish for them so that I may get money to restore the fortunes of my family.”
“No! no! no!” said Braddock forcibly. “I have bought the mummy and the jewels with it. They will sell to supply me with money to fit out my expedition to the tomb of Queen Tahoser.”
“I shall dispute your claim,” cried De Gayangos, losing his calmness.
Braddock waved his hand with supreme content.
“I can give you the address of my lawyers,” he retorted; “any steps you choose to take will only result in loss, and from what you hint I should not think that you had much money to spend on litigation.”
Don Pedro bit his lip, and saw that it was indeed a more difficult task than he had anticipated to make Braddock yield up his prize.
“If you were in Lima,” he muttered, speaking Spanish in his excitement, “you would then learn that I speak truly.”
“I do not doubt your truth,” answered the Professor in the same language.
De Gayangos wheeled and faced his host, much surprised.
“You speak my tongue, senor?” he demanded.
Braddock nodded.
“I have been in Spain, and I have been in Peru,” he answered dryly, “therefore I know classical Spanish and its colonial dialects. As to being in Lima, I was there, and I do not wish to go there again, as I had quite enough of those uncivilized parts thirty years ago, when the country was much disturbed after your civil war.”
“You were in Lima thirty years ago,” echoed Don Pedro; “then you were there when Vasa stole this mummy.”
“I don't know who stole it, or even if it was stolen,” said the Professor obstinately, “and I don't know the name of Vasa. Ah! now I remember. Young Hope did say something about the Swedish sailor who you said stole the mummy.”
“Vasa did, and brought it to Europe to sell—probably to that man in Paris, who afterwards sold it to your Malteses collector.”
“No doubt,” rejoined Braddock calmly; “but what has all this to do with me, Don Pedro?”
“I want my mummy,” raged the other, and looked dangerous.
“Then you won't get it,” retorted Braddock, adopting a pugnacious attitude and quite composed. “This mummy has caused one death, Don Pedro, and from your looks I should think you would like it to cause another.”
“Will you not be honest?”
“I'll knock your head off if you bring my honesty into question,” cried the Professor, standing on tip-toe like a bantam. “The best thing to do will be to take the matter into court. Then the law can decide, and I have little doubt but what it will decide in my favor.”
The Englishman and the Peruvian glared at one another, and Cockatoo, who was crouching on the floor, glanced from one angry face to another. He guessed that the white men were quarreling and perhaps would come to blows. It was at this moment that a knock came to the door, and a minute later Archie entered. Braddock glanced at him, and took a sudden resolution as he stepped forward.
“Hope, you are just in time,” he declared. “Don Pedro states that the mummy belongs to him, and I assert that I have bought it. We shall make you umpire. He wants it: I want it. What is to be done?”
“The mummy is my own flesh and blood, Mr. Hope,” said Don Pedro.
“Precious little of either about it,” said Braddock contemptuously.
Archie twisted a chair round and straddled his long legs across it, with his arms resting on its back. His quick brain had rapidly comprehended the situation, and, being acquainted with both sides of the question, it was not difficult to come to a decision. If it was hard that Don Pedro should lose his ancestor's mummy, it was equally hard that Braddock—or rather himself—should lose the purchase money, seeing that it had been paid in good faith to the seller in Malta for a presumably righteously acquired object. On these premises the young Solon proceeded to deliver judgment.
“I understand,” said he judiciously, “that Don Pedro had the mummy stolen from him thirty years ago, and that you, Professor, bought it under the impression that the Maltese owner had a right to possess it.”
“Yes,” snapped Braddock, “and I daresay the Maltese owner thought so too, since he bought it from that collector in Paris.”
Hope nodded.
“And if Vasa sold it to the man in Paris,” said he calmly, “he certainly would not tell the purchaser that he had looted the mummy in Lima, and the poor man would not know that he was receiving stolen goods. Is that right, Don Pedro?”
“Yes, sir,” said the Peruvian, who had recovered his temper and his gravity; “but I declare solemnly that the mummy was stolen from my father and should belong to me.”
“No one disputes that,” said Archie cheerfully; “but it ought to belong to the Professor also, since he has bought it. Now, as it can't possibly belong to two people, we must split the difference. You, Professor, must sell back the mummy to Don Pedro for the price you paid for it, and then, Don Pedro, you must recompense Professor Braddock for his loss.”
“I have not much money,” said Don Pedro gravely; “still, I am willing to do as you say.”
“I don't know that I am,” protested Braddock noisily. “There are the two emeralds which are of immense value, as Don Pedro says, and they belong to me, since the mummy is my property.”
“Professor,” said Archie solemnly, “you must do right, even if you lose by it. I believe the story of Senor De Gayangos; and the mummy with its jewels belongs to him. Besides, you only wish to see the way in which the Inca race embalmed their dead. Well, then, unpack the mummy here in the presence of Don Pedro. When you have satisfied your curiosity, and when Senor De Gayangos signs a check for one thousand pounds, he can take away the corpse. You have had so much trouble over it, that I wonder your are not anxious to see the last of it.”
“But the emeralds would sell for much money and would defray the expenses of my expedition into Egypt to search for that Queen's tomb.”
“I understood from Lucy that Mrs. Jasher intended to finance that expedition when she became your wife.”
“Humph!” muttered Braddock, stroking his fat chin. “I said a few foolish things to her last night when I was heated up. She may not forgive me, Hope.”
“A woman will forgive anything to the man she loves,” said Archie.
Braddock was no fool, and could not help casting a glance at his tubby figure, which was reflected in a near mirror. It seemed incredible that Mrs. Jasher could love him for his looks, and the fact that he might some day be a baronet did not strike him at the moment as a consideration. However, he foresaw trouble and expense should Don Pedro go to law, as he seemed determined to do. Taking all things into consideration, Braddock thought that Archie's judgment was a good one, and yielded.
“Well,” he said after reflection, “let us agree. I shall open the case and examine the mummy, which after all is the reason why I bought it. When I have satisfied myself as to the difference between the modes of embalming, Don Pedro can give me a check and take away the mummy. I only hope that he will have less trouble with it than I have had,” and, so speaking, Braddock, signing to Cockatoo to bring all the necessary tools, laid hands on the case.
“I am content,” said Don Pedro briefly, and seated himself in a chair beside the young Daniel who had delivered judgment.
Hope offered to assist the Professor to open the case, but was dismissed with an abrupt refusal.
“Though I am glad you are present to see the mummy unpacked,” said Braddock, laboring at the lid of the case, “for if the emeralds are missing, Don Pedro might accuse me of stealing them.”
“Why should the emeralds be missing?” asked Hope quickly.
Braddock shrugged his shoulders.
“Sidney Bolton was killed,” said he in a low voice, “and it was not likely that any one would commit a murder for the sake of this mummy, and then leave it stranded in Mrs. Jasher's garden. I have my doubts about the safety of the emeralds, else I would not have consented to sell the thing back again.”
With this honest speech, the Professor vigorously attacked the lid of the case, and inserted a steel instrument into the cracks to prize up the covering. The lid was closed with wooden pegs in an antique but perfectly safe manner, and apparently had not been opened since the dead Inca had been laid to rest therein hundreds of years ago among the Andean mountains. Don Pedro winced at this desecration of the dead, but, as he had given his consent, there was nothing left to do but to grin and bear it. In a wonderfully short space of time, considering the neatness of the workmanship and the holding power of the wooden pegs, the lid was removed. Then the four on-lookers saw that the mummy had been tampered with. Swathed in green-stained llama wool, it lay rigid in its case. But the swathings had been cut; the hands protruded and the emeralds were gone—torn rudely from the hard grip of the dead.
Both Don Pedro and Professor Braddock were amazed and angry at the disappearance of the jewels, but Hope did not express much surprise. Considering the facts of the murder, it was just what he expected, although it must be confessed that he was wise after the event.
“I refer you to your own words immediately before the case was opened, Professor,” he remarked, after the first surprise had subsided.
“Words! words!” snapped Braddock, who was anything but pleased. “What words of mine do you mean, Hope?”
“You said that it was not likely that any one would commit a murder for the sake of the mummy only, and then leave it stranded in Mrs. Jasher's garden. Also, you declared that you had your doubts about the safety of the emeralds, else you would not have consented to sell the mummy again to its rightful owner.”
The Professor nodded.
“Quite so: quite so. And what I say I hold to,” he retorted, “especially as I have proved myself a true prophet. You can both see for yourselves,” he waved his hand towards the rifled case, “that poor Sidney must have been killed for the sake of the emeralds. The question is, who killed him?”
“The person who knew about the jewels,” said Don Pedro promptly.
“Of course: but who did know? I was ignorant until you told me about the manuscript. And you, Hope?” He searched Archie's face.
“Do you intend to accuse me?” questioned the young man with a slight laugh. “I assure you, Professor, that I was ignorant of what had been buried with the corpse, until Don Pedro related his story the other night to myself and Random, and the ladies.”
Braddock turned impatiently to De Gayangos, as he did not approve of Archie's apparent flippancy.
“Does any one else know of the contents of this manuscript?” he demanded irritably.
Don Pedro nursed his chin and looked musingly on the ground.
“It is just possible that Vasa may.”
“Vasa? Vasa? Oh yes, the sailor who stole the mummy thirty years ago from your father in Lima. Pooh! pooh! pooh! You tell me that this manuscript is written in Latin, and evidently in monkish Latin at that, which is of the worst. Your sailor could not read it, and would not know the value of the manuscript. If he had, he would have carried it off.”
“Senor,” said the Peruvian politely, “I have an idea that my father made a translation of this manuscript, or at all events a copy.”
“But I understood,” put in Hope, still astride of his chair, “that you did not find the original manuscript until your father died.”
“That is quite true, sir,” assented the other readily, “but I did not tell you everything the other night. My father it was who found the manuscript at Cuzco, and although I cannot state authoritatively, yet I believe I am correct in saying that he had a copy made. But whether the copy was merely a transcript or actually a translation, I cannot tell. I think it was the former, as if Vasa, reading a translation, had learned of the jewels, he undoubtedly would have stolen them before selling this mummy to the Parisian collector.”
“Perhaps he did,” said Braddock, pointing to the rifled corpse. “You see that the emeralds are missing.”
“Your assistant's assassin stole them,” insisted Don Pedro coldly.
“We cannot be sure of that,” retorted the Professor, “although I admit that no man would jeopardize his neck for the sake of a corpse.”
Archie looked surprised.
“But an enthusiast such as you are, Professor, might risk so much.”
For once in his life Braddock made a good-humored reply.
“No, sir. Not even for this mummy would I place myself in the power of the law. And I do not think that any other scientist would either. We savants may not be worldly, but we are not fools. However, the fact remains that the jewels are gone, and whether they were stolen by Vasa thirty years ago, or by poor Sidney's assassin the other day, I don't know, and, what is more, I don't care. I shall examine the mummy further, and in a couple of days Don Pedro can bring me a check for one thousand and remove his ancestor.”
“No! no!” cried the Peruvian hurriedly; “since the emeralds are missing, I am not in a position to pay you one thousand English pounds, sir. I want to take back the body of Inca Caxas to Lima; as one must show respect to one's ancestors. But the fact is, I cannot pay the money.”
“You said that you could,” shouted the exasperated Professor in his bullying way.
“I admit it, senor, but I had hoped to do so when I sold the emeralds, which—as you can see—are not available. Therefore the body of my royal ancestor must remain here until I can procure the money. And it may be that Sir Frank Random will help me in this matter.”
“He wouldn't help me,” snapped Braddock, “so why should he help you?”
Don Pedro, looking more dignified than ever, drew himself up to his tall height.
“Sir Frank,” he said, in a stately way, “has done me the honor of seeking to be my son-in-law. As my daughter loves him, I am willing to permit the marriage, but now that I have learned the emeralds are lost, I shall not consent until Sir Frank buys the mummy from you, Professor. It is only right that my daughter's hand should redeem her regal forefather from purely scientific surroundings and that she should take the mummy back to be buried in Lima. At the same time, sir, I must say that I am the rightful owner of the dead, and that you should surrender the mummy to me free of charge.”
“What, and lose a thousand pounds!” cried Braddock furiously. “No, sir, I shall do nothing of the sort. You only wanted the mummy for the sake of the jewels, and now that they are lost, you do not care what becomes of your confounded ancestor, and you—”
The Professor would have gone on still more furiously, but that Hope, seeing Don Pedro was growing angry at the insult, chimed in.
“Let me throw oil on the troubled waters,” he said, smoothly. “Don Pedro is not able to redeem the mummy until the emeralds are found. As such is the case, we must find the emeralds and enable him to do what is necessary.”
“And how are we to find the jewels?” asked Braddock crossly.
“By finding the assassin.”
“How is that to be done?” asked De Gayangos gloomily. “I have been doing my best at Pierside, but I cannot find a single clue. Vasa is not to be found.”
“Vasa!” exclaimed Archie and the Professor, both profoundly astonished.
Don Pedro raised his eyebrows.
“Certainly. Vasa, if anyone, must have killed your assistant, since he alone could have known that the jewels were buried with Inca Caxas.”
“But, my dear sir,” argued Hope good-naturedly, “if Vasa stole the manuscript, whether translated or not, he certainly must have learned the truth long, long ago, since thirty years have elapsed. In that event he must have stolen the jewels, as Professor Braddock remarked lately, before he sold the mummy to the Parisian collector.”
“That may be so,” said Don Pedro obstinately, while the Professor muttered his approval, “but we cannot be certain on that point. No one—I agree with the Professor in this—would have risked his neck to steal a mere mummy, therefore the motive for the committal of the crime must have been the emeralds. Only Vasa knew of their existence outside myself and my dead father. He, therefore, must be the assassin. I shall hunt for him, and, when I find him, I shall have him arrested.”
“But you can't possibly recognize the man after thirty years?” argued Braddock disbelievingly.
“I have a royal memory for faces,” said Don Pedro imperturbably, “and in the past I saw much of Vasa. He was then a young sailor of twenty.”
“Humph!” muttered Braddock. “He is now fifty, and must have changed in thirty years. You'll never recognize him.”
“Oh, I think so,” said the Peruvian smoothly. “His eyes were peculiarly blue and full of light. Also, he had a scar on the right temple from a blow which he received in a street riot in which I also was concerned. Finally, gentlemen, Vasa loved a peon girl on my father's estate, and she induced him to have the sun encircled by a serpent—a Peruvian symbol—tattooed on his left wrist. With all these marks, and with my memory for faces, which never yet has failed me, I have no doubt but what I shall recognize the man.”
“And then?”
“And then I shall have him arrested”
Hope shrugged his square shoulders. He had not much belief in Don Pedro's boasted royal memory, and did not think that he would recognize a young sailor of twenty in what would certainly be a grizzled old salt of fifty years. However, it was possible that the man might be right in his surmise, since Vasa alone could have known about the emeralds. The only doubt was whether he would have waited for thirty years before looting the mummy. Archie said nothing of these thoughts, as they would only serve to prolong an unprofitable discussion. But he made one suggestion.
“Your best plan,” he said suggestively, “is to write a description of Vasa—who, by the way, has probably changed his name—and hand it to the police, with the promise of a reward if he is found.”
“I am very poor, senor. Surely the Professor here—”
“I can offer nothing,” said Braddock quickly, “as I am quite as poor as you are, if not more so, Sir Frank might help,” he added sarcastically.
“I shall not ask,” said Don Pedro loftily. “If Sir Frank chooses to become my son-in-law by purchasing back my royal ancestor, to which you have no right, I am willing that it should be so. But, poor as I am, I shall offer a reward myself, since the honor of the De Gayangoses is involved in this matter. What reward do you suggest, Mr. Hope?”
“Five hundred pounds,” said the Professor quickly.
“Too much,” said Hope sharply—“far too much. Make the reward one hundred pounds, Don Pedro. That is enough to tempt many a man.”
The Peruvian bowed and noted down the amount.
“I shall go at once to Pierside and see Inspector Date, who had to do with the inquest,” he remarked. “Meanwhile, Professor, please do not desecrate my royal ancestor's body more than you can help.”
“I shall certainly not search for any more emeralds,” retorted Braddock dryly. “Now, clear out, both of you, and leave me to examine the mummy. Cockatoo, show these gentlemen out, and let no one else in.”
Don Pedro returned to the Warrior Hotel to inform his daughter of what had taken place, with the intention of going in the afternoon to Pierside. Meanwhile, he wrote out a full description of Vasa, making an allowance for the lapse of years and explaining the scar and the symbol on the left wrist. Hope also sought Lucy and related the latest development of the case. The girl was not surprised, as she likewise believed that the assassin had desired more than the mummy when he murdered Sidney Bolton.
“Mrs. Jasher did not know about the emeralds?” she asked suddenly.
“No,” replied Archie, much surprised. “Surely you do not suspect her of having a hand in the devilment?”
“Certainly not,” was the prompt answer. “Only I cannot understand how the mummy came to be in her garden.”
“It was brought up from the river, I expect.”
“But why to Mrs. Jasher's garden?”
Hope shook his head.
“I cannot tell that. The whole thing is a mystery, and seems likely to remain so.”
“It seems to me,” said the girl, after a pause, “that it would be best for my father to return this mummy to Don Pedro, and have done with it, since it seems to bring bad luck. Then he can marry Mrs. Jasher, and go to Egypt on her fortune to seek for this tomb.”
“I doubt very much if Mrs. Jasher will marry the Professor now, after what he said last night.”
“Nonsense, my father was in a rage and said what first came into his mind. I daresay she is angry. However, I shall see her this afternoon, and put matters right.”
“You are very anxious that the Professor should marry the lady.”
“I am,” replied Lucy seriously, “as I want to leave my father comfortably settled when I marry you. The sooner he makes Mrs. Jasher his wife, the readier will he be to let me go, and I want to marry you as soon as I possibly can. I am tired of Gartley and of this present life.”
Of course to this speech Archie could make only one answer, and as that took the form of kissing, it was entirely satisfactory to Miss Kendal. Then they discussed the future and also the proposed engagement of Sir Frank Random to the Peruvian lady. But both left the subject of the mummy alone, as they were quite weary of the matter, and neither could suggest a solution of the mystery.
Meanwhile Professor Braddock had passed a very pleasant hour in examining the swathings of the mummy. But his pleasure was destined to be cut short sooner than he desired, as Captain Hiram Hervey unexpectedly arrived. Although Cockatoo—as he had been instructed—did his best to keep him out, the sailor forced his way in, and heralded his appearance by throwing the Kanaka head-foremost into the museum.
“What does this mean?” demanded the fiery Professor, while Cockatoo, with an angry expression, struggled to his feet, and Hervey, smoking his inevitable cheroot, stood on the threshold—“how dare you treat my property in this careless way.”
“Guess your property should behave itself then,” said the captain in careless tones, and sauntered into the room. “D'y think I'm goin' to be chucked out by a measly nigger and—Great Scott!”—this latter exclamation was extorted by the sight of the mummy.
Braddock motioned to the still angry Cockatoo to move aside, and then nodded triumphantly.
“You didn't expect to see that, did you?” he asked.
Hervey came to anchor on a chair and turned the cheroot in his mouth with an odd look at the mummy.
“When will he be hanged?”
Braddock stared.
“When will who be hanged?”
“The man as stole that thing.”
“We haven't found him yet,” Braddock informed him swiftly.
“Then how in creation did you annex the corpse.”
The Professor sat down and explained. The lean, long mariner listened quietly, only nodding at intervals. He did not seem to be surprised when he heard that the corpse of the head Inca had been found in Mrs. Jasher's garden, especially when Braddock explained the whereabouts of the property.
“Wal,” he drawled, “that don't make my hair stand on end. I guess the garden was on his way and he used it for a cemetery.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded the perplexed scientist.
“About the man who strangled your help and yanked away the corpse.”
“But I don't know who he is. Nobody knows.”
“Go slow. I do.”
“You!” Braddock started and flung himself across the room to seize Hervey by the lapels of his reefer coat. “You know. Tell me who he is, so that I can get the emeralds.”
“Emeralds!” Hervey removed Braddock's plump hands and stared greedily.
“Don't you know? No, of course you don't. But two emeralds were buried with the mummy, and they have been stolen.”
“Who by?”
“No doubt by the assassin who murdered poor Sidney.”
Hervey spat on the floor, and his weather-beaten face took on an expression of, profound regret.
“I guess I'm a fool of the best.”
“Why?” asked Braddock, again puzzled.
“To think,” said Hervey, addressing the mummy, “that you were on board my boat, and I never looted you.”
“What!” Braddock stamped. “Would you have committed theft?”
“Theft be hanged!” was the reply. “It ain't thieving to loot the dead. I guess a corpse hasn't got any use for jewels. You bet I'd have gummed straightways onto that mummy, when I brought it from Malta in the old Diver, had I known it was a jeweler's shop of sorts. Huh! Two emeralds, and I never knew. I could kick myself.”
“You are a blackguard,” gasped the astonished Professor.
“Oh, shucks!” was the elegant retort, “give it a rest. I'm no worse than that dandy gentleman who added murder to stealing, anyhow.”
“Ah!” Braddock bounded off his chair like an india-rubber ball, “you said that you knew who had committed the murder.”
“Wal,” drawled Hervey again, “I do and I don't. That is I suspect, but I can't swear to the business before a judge.”
“Who killed Bolton?” asked the Professor furiously. “Tell me at once.”
“Not me, unless it's made worth my while.”
“It will be, by Don Pedro.”
“That yellow-stomach. What's he got to do with it?”
“I have just told you the mummy belongs to him; he came to Europe to find it. He wants the emeralds, and intends to offer a reward of one hundred pounds for the discovery of the assassin.”
Hervey arose briskly.
“I'm right on the job,” said he, sauntering to the door. “I'll go to that old inn of yours, where you say the Don's stopping, and look him up. Guess I'll trade.”
“But who killed Bolton?” asked Braddock, running to the door and gripping Hervey by his coat.
The mariner looked down on the anxious face of the plump little man with a grim smile.
“I can tell you,” said he, “as you can't figure out the business, unless I'm on the racket. No, sir; I'm the white boy in thin circus.”
The Professor shook the lean sailor in his anxiety.
“Who is he?”
“That almighty aristocrat that came on board my ship, when I lay in the Thames on the very afternoon I arrived with Bolton.”
“Who do you mean?” demanded Braddock, more and more perplexed.
“Sir Frank Random.”
“What! did he kill Bolton and steal my mummy?”
“And hide it in that garden on his way to the Fort? I guess he did.”
The Professor sat down and closed his eyes with horror. When he opened them again, Hervey was gone.
But the Professor was not going to let Captain Hervey escape without giving him full information. Before the Yankee skipper could reach the front door, Braddock was at his heels, gasping and blowing like a grampus.
“Come back, come back. Tell me all.”
“I reckon not,” rejoined the mariner, removing Braddock's grip. “You ain't the one to give the money. I'll go to the Don, or to Inspector Date of Pierside.”
“But Sir Frank must be innocent,” insisted Braddock.
“He's got to prove it,” was the dry response. “Let me go.”
“No. You must tell me on what grounds—”
“Oh, the devil take you!” said Hervey hastily, and sat down on one of the hall chairs. “It's this way, since you won't let me skip until I tell you. This almighty aristocrat came to Pierside on the same afternoon as I cast anchor. While Bolton was on board, he looked in to have a yarn of sorts.”
“What about?”
“Now, how in creation should I know?” snapped the skipper. “I wasn't on hand, as I'd enough to do with unloading cargo. But his lordship went with Bolton to the state-room, and they talked for half an hour. When they came out, I saw that his lordship had his hair riz, and heard him saying things to Bolton.”
“What sort of things?”
“Well, for one, he said, `You'll repent of this,' and then again, `Your life isn't safe while you keep it.'”
“Meaning the mummy?”
“I reckon that's so, unless I am mistaken,” said Hervey serenely.
“Why didn't you go to the police with this information?”
“Me? Not much. Why, I saw no way of making dollars. And then, again, I did not think of putting things together, until I found that his lorship—”
“Meaning Sir Frank,” interpolated the Professor, frowning.
“I'm talking Queen's, or King's, or Republican lingo, I guess, and I do mean his lorship,” said the skipper dryly—“until I found that his lorship had been in the public-house where the crime was committed.”
“The Sailor's Rest? When did he go there?”
“In the evening. After his talk with Bolton, and after a row—as they both seemed to have their hair off—he skipped over the side and went back to his yacht, which wasn't far away. Bolton took his blamed mummy ashore and got fixed at the Sailor's Rest. I gathered afterwards, from the second mate of The Diver (which ain't my ship now), that his lorship came into the hotel and had a drink. Afterwards my second mate saw him talking to Bolton through the window.”
“In the same place as the woman talked?” questioned the Professor.
“That's so, only it was later in the evening that the woman came along to give chin-music through the window. I am bound to say,” added the captain generously, “that no one I can place my hand on saw his lorship loafing about the hotel after dark. But what of that? He may have laid his plans, and arranged for the corpse to be found later, in that blamed packing case.”
“Is this all your evidence?”
“It's enough, I guess.”
“Not to procure a warrant.”
“Why, a man in the States would be electrocuted on half the evidence.”
“I daresay,” retorted the little man with contempt, “but we are in a land where justice of the purest prevails. All your evidence is circumstantial. It proves nothing.”
The captain was considerably nettled.
“I calculate that it proves Sir Frank wanted the mummy, else why did he come on board my ship to see your infernal assistant. The words he used showed that he was warning Bolton how he'd do for him. And then he talked through the window, and was in the public-house, which ain't a place for an almighty aristocrat to shelter in. I guess he's the man wanted by the police. Why,” added Hervey, warming to his tale, “he'd a slap-up yacht laying near the blamed hotel, and could easily ship the corpse, after slipping it through the window. When he got tired of it, and looted the emeralds, he took it by boat, below the Fort, to Mrs. Jasher's garden and left it there, so as to pull the wool over the eyes of the police. It's as clear as mud to me. You search his lorship's shanty, and you'll find the emeralds.”
“It is strange,” muttered Braddock unwillingly.
“Strange, but not true,” said a voice from the head of the stairs, and young Hope came down leisurely, with a pale face, but a very determined air. “Random is absolutely innocent.”
“How do you know?” demanded the skipper contemptuously.
“Because he is an English gentleman and my very good friend.”
“Huh! I guess that defense won't save him from being lynched.”
Meanwhile Braddock was looking irritably at Archie.
“You've been listening to a private conversation, sir. How dare you listen?”
“If you hold private conversations at the top of your voices in the hall, you must be expected to be listened to,” said Archie coolly. “I plead guilty, and I am not sorry.”
“When did you come?”
“In time to hear all that Captain Hervey has explained. I was chatting with Lucy, and had just left her, when I heard your loud voices.”
“Has Lucy heard anything?”
“No. She is busy in her room. But I'll tell her,” Hope turned to mount the stairs; “she likes Random, and will no more believe him guilty than I do at this present moment.”
“Stop!” cried Braddock, flying forward to pull Hope back, as he placed his foot on the first stair. “Tell Lucy nothing just now. We must go to the Fort, you—and I, to see Random. Hervey, you come also, and then you can accuse Sir Frank to his face.”
“If he dares to do it!” said Archie, who looked and felt indignant.
“Oh, I'll accuse him right enough when the time comes,” said Hervey in his coolest manner, “but the time isn't now. Savy! I am going to see the Don first and make sure of this reward.”
“Faugh!” cried Hope with disgust, “Blood-money!”
“What of that? Ifs a man is a murderer he should be lynched.”
“My friend, Sir Frank Random, is no murderer.”
“He's got to prove, that, as I said before,” rejoined the Yankee in a calm way, and strolled to the door. “So-long, gents both. I'll light out for the Warrior Inn and play my cards. And I may tell you,” he added, pausing at the door, which he opened, “that I haven't got that blamed wind-jammer, so need money to hold out until another steamer comes along. One hundred pounds English currency will just fill the bill. So now you know the lay I'm on. So-long,” and he walked quietly out of the house, leaving Archie and Braddock looking at one another with pale faces. The assurance of Hervey surprised and horrified them. Still, they could not believe that Sir Frank Random had been guilty of so brutal a crime.
“For one thing,” said Hope after a pause, “Random did not know where the emeralds were to be found, or even that they existed.”
“I understood that he did know,” said Braddock reluctantly. “In my hearing, and in your own, you heard Don Pedro state that he had related the story of the manuscript to Random.”
“You forget that I learned about the emeralds at the same time,” said Hope quietly. “Yet this Yankee skipper does not accuse me. The knowledge of the emeralds came to Random's ears and to mine long after the crime was committed. To have a motive for killing Bolton and stealing the emeralds, Random would have had to know when he arrived in England.”
“And why should he have not known?” asked the Professor, biting his lip vexedly. “I don't want to accuse Random, or even to doubt him, as he is a very good fellow, even though he refused to assist me with money when I desired a reward to be offered. All the same, he met Don Pedro in Genoa, and it is just possible that the man told him of the jewels buried with the mummy.”
Archie shook his head.
“I doubt that,” said he thoughtfully. “Random was as astonished as the rest of us, when Don Pedro told his Arabian Night story. However, the point can be easily settled by sending for Random. I daresay he is at the Fort.”
“I shall send Cockatoo for him at once,” said the Professor quickly, and walked into the museum to instruct the Kanaka. Archie remained where he was, and seated himself on a chair, with folded arms and knitted brows. It was incredible that an English gentleman with a stainless name and such a well-known soldier should commit so terrible a crime. And the matter of Hervey's accusation was complicated by the fact—of which Hervey was ignorant—that Don Pedro was willing that Random should become his son-in-law. Hope wondered what the fiery, proud Peruvian would say when he heard his friend denounced. His reflections on this point were cut short by the return of the Professor, who appeared at the door of the museum dismissing Cockatoo. When the Kanaka took his departure, Braddock beckoned to the young man.
“There is no reason why we should talk in the hall, and let the whole house know of this new difficulty,” he said in a testy manner. “Come in here.”
Hope entered and looked with ill-concealed repugnance at the uncanny shape of the green mummy, which was lying on a long table. He examined the portions where the swathings had been cut with some sharp instrument, to reveal the dry, bony hands, which formerly had held the costly jewels. The face was invisible and covered with a mask of dull beaten gold. Formerly the eyes had been jeweled, but these last were now absent. He pointed out the mask to the Professor, who was hovering over the weird dead with a large magnifying-glass.
“It is strange,” said Hope earnestly, “that the mask of gold was not stolen also, since it is so valuable.”
“Unless melted down, the mask could be traced,” said Braddock after a pause. “The jewels, according to Don Pedro, are of immense value, and so could have been got rid of easily. Random was satisfied with those.”
“Don't talk of him in that way, as though his guilt was certain,” said Hope, wincing.
“Well, you must admit that the evidence against him is strong.”
“But purely circumstantial.”
“Circumstantial evidence has hanged many an innocent man before now. Humph!” said Braddock uneasily, “I hope it won't hang our friend. However, we shall hear what he has to say. I have sent Cockatoo to the Fort to bring him here at once. If Random is absent, Cockatoo is to leave a note in his room, on the writing-table.”
“Would it not have been better to have told Cockatoo to give the note to Random's servant?”
“I think not,” responded Braddock dryly. “Random's servant is certainly one of the most stupid men in the entire army. He would probably forget to give him the note, and as it is important that we should see Random at once, it is better that he should find it placed personally on his writing-table by Cockatoo, upon whom I can depend.”
Archie abandoned the argument, as it really mattered very little. He took up another line of conversation.
“I expect if the criminal tries to dispose of the emeralds he will be caught,” said he: “such large jewels are too noticeable to escape comment.”
“Humph! It depends upon the cleverness of the thief,” said the Professor, who was more taken up with the mummy than with the conversation, “He might have the jewels cut into smaller stones, or he might go to India and dispose of them to some Rajah, who would certainly say nothing. I don't know how criminals act myself, as I have never studied their methods. But I hope that the clue you mention will be hit upon, if only for Random's sake.”
“I don't believe for one moment that Random is in danger,” said Archie, “and, if he is, I shall turn detective myself.”
“I wish you joy,” replied Braddock, bending over the mummy. “Look, Hope, at the wonderful color of this wool. There are some arts we have lost completely—dyeing of this surprising beauty is one. Humph!” mused the archaeologist, “I wonder why this particular mummy is dyed green, or rather why it is wrapped in green bandages. Yellow was the royal color of the ancient Peruvian monarchs. Vicuna wool dyed yellow. What do you think, Hope? It is strange.”
Archie shrugged his shoulders.
“I can say nothing, because I know nothing,” he said sharply. “All I do know is that I wish this precious mummy had never been brought here. It has caused trouble ever since its arrival.”
“Well,” said Braddock, surveying the dead with some disfavor, “I must say that I shall be glad to see the last of it myself. I know now all that I wanted to know! Humph! I wonder if Don Pedro will allow me to strip the mummy? Of course! It is mine not his. I shall unswathe it entirely,” and Braddock was about to lay sacrilegious hands on the dead, when Cockatoo entered breathlessly. He had been so quick that he must have run to the Fort and back again.
“I knock at door,” said the Kanaka, delivering his message, “and I hear no voice. I go in and find no one, so I put the letter on the table. I come down and ask, and a soldier tells me, sir, his master is coming back in half an hour.”
“You should have waited,” said Braddock, waving Cockatoo aside. “Come along with me to the Fort, Hope.”
“But Random will come here as soon as he returns.”
“Very likely, but I can't wait. I am anxious to hear what he has to say in his defense. Come, Cockatoo, my coat, my hat, my gloves. Stir yourself, you scoundrel!”
Archie was not unwilling to go, since he was anxious also to hear what Random would say to the absurd accusation brought against him by the Yankee. In a few minutes the two men were walking smartly down the road through the village, the Professor striving to keep up with Hope's longer legs by trotting as hard as he could. Halfway down the village they met a trap, and in it Captain Hervey being driven to the Jessum railway station.
“Have you seen Don Pedro?” asked the Professor, stopping the vehicle.
“I reckon not,” answered Hervey stolidly. “He's gone into Pierside to see the police. I'm off there also.”
“You had better come with us,” said Archie sternly;—“we are going to see Sir Frank Random.”
“Give him my respects,” said the skipper cold-bloodedly, “and say that he's worth one hundred pounds to me,” he waved his hand and the trap moved away, but he looked back with a wry smile. “Say I'll square the matter for double the money and command of his yacht.”
Braddock and Archie looked after the trap in disgust.
“What a scoundrel the man is!” said the Professor pettishly; “he'd sell his father for what he could get.”
“It shows how much his word is to be depended upon. I expect this accusation of Random is a put-up job.”
“I hope so, for Random's sake,” said Braddock, trotting briskly along.
In a short time they arrived at the Fort and were informed that Sir Frank had not yet returned, but was expected back every moment. In the meanwhile, as Braddock and Hope were both extremely well known, they were shown into Random's quarters, which were on the first floor. When the soldier-servant retired and the door was closed, Hope seated himself near the window, while Braddock trotted round, looking into things.
“It's a dog kennel,” said the Professor. “I told Random that.”
“Perhaps we should have waited him in the mess,” suggested Archie.
“No! no! no! We couldn't talk there, with a lot of silly young fools hanging about. I told Random that I would never enter the mess, so he invited me to come always to his quarters. He was in love with Lucy then,” chuckled the Professor, “and nothing was too good for me.”
“Not even the dog kennel,” said Hope dryly, for the Professor's chatter was so rude as to be quite annoying.
“Pooh! pooh! pooh! Random doesn't mind a joke. You, Hope, have no sense of humor. Your name is Scotch also. I believe you are a Caledonian.”
“I am nothing of the sort. I was born on this side of the border.”
“You might have been born at the North Pole for all I care,” said the little man politely. “I don't like artists: they are usually silly. I wish Lucy had married a man of science. Now don't talk rubbish. I know what you are going to say.”
“Well,” said Archie, humoring him, “what am I going to say?”
This non-plussed the irritable savant.
“Hum! Hum! hum! I don't know and don't care. Pouf! How hot this room is! What a number of books of travel Random has!” Braddock was now at the bookcase, which consisted of shelves swung by cords against the wall.
“Random travels a great deal,” Archie reminded him.
“Quite so: quite so. Wastes his money on that silly yacht. But he hasn't traveled in South America. I expect he's going there. Come here, Hope, and see the many, many books about Peru and Chili and Brazil. There must be a dozen, and all library books too.”
Archie sauntered towards the shelves.
“I expect Random is getting up the subject of South America, so as to talk to Donna Inez.”
“Probably! probably!” snapped Braddock, pulling several of the books out of place. “Why, there isn't a—Ah, dear me! What a catastrophe!”
He might well say so, for in his desire to examine the books, they all tipped off the shelves and lay in a disorderly heap on the floor. Hope began to pick them up and replace them, and so did the author of the mischief. Among the books were several papers scribbled with notes, and Braddock bundled these all in a heap.. Shortly, he caught sight of the writing on one.
“Hullo! Latin,” said he, and read a line or two. “Oh!” he gasped, “Hope! Hope! The manuscript of Don Pedro!”
“Impossible!”
Archie rose and stared at the discolored paper.
“Sorry to have kept you,” said Random, entering at this moment.
“You villain!” shouted Braddock furiously, “so you are guilty after all?”
Random was so taken aback by the fierce accusation of the Professor that he stood suddenly still at the door, and did not advance into the room. Yet he did not look so much afraid as puzzled. Whatever Braddock might have thought, Hope, from the expression on the young soldier's face, was more than ever satisfied of his innocence.
“What are you talking about, Professor?” asked Random, genuinely surprised.
“You know well enough,” retorted the Professor.
“Upon my word I don't,” said the other, walking into the room and unbuckling his sword. “I find you here, with the contents of my bookcase on the floor, and you promptly accuse me of being guilty. Of what, I should like to know? Perhaps you can tell me Hope.”
“There is no need for Hope to tell you, sir. You are perfectly well aware of your own villainy.”
Random frowned.
“I allow a certain amount of latitude to my guests, Professor,” he said with marked dignity, “but for a man of your age and position you go too far. Be more explicit.”
“Allow me to speak,” intervened Archie, anticipating Braddock. “Random, the Professor has just had a visit from Captain Hiram Hervey, who was the skipper of The Diver. He accuses you of having murdered Bolton!”
“What?” the baronet started back, looking thunderstruck.
“Wait a moment. I have not finished yet. Hervey accuses you of this murder, of stealing the mummy, of gaining possession of the emeralds, and of placing the rifled corpse in Mrs. Jasher's garden, so that she might be accused of committing the crime.”
“Exactly,” cried Braddock, seeing that his host remained silent from sheer surprise. “Hope has stated the case very clearly. Now, sir, your defense?”
“Defense! defense!” Random found his tongue at last and spoke indignantly. “I have no defense to make.”
“Ah! Then you acknowledge your guilt?”
“I acknowledge nothing. The accusation is too preposterous for any denial to be necessary. Do you believe this of me?” He looked from one to the other.
“I don't,” said Archie quickly, “there is some mistake.”
“Thank you, Hope. And you, Professor?”
Braddock fidgeted about the room.
“I don't know what to think,” he said at length. “Hervey spoke very decisively.”
“Oh, indeed,” returned Random dryly, and, walking to the door, he locked it. “In that case, I must ask you for an explanation, and neither of you shall leave this room until one is given. Your proofs?”
“Here is one of them,” snapped Braddock, throwing the manuscript on the table. “Where did you get this?”
Random took up the discolored paper with a bewildered air.
“I never set eyes on this before,” he said, much puzzled. “What is it?”
“A copy of the manuscript mentioned by Don Pedro, which describes the two emeralds buried with the mummy of Inca Caxas.”
“I see.” Random understood all in a moment. “So you say that I knew of the emeralds from this, and so murdered Bolton to obtain them.”
“Pardon me,” said Braddock with elaborate politeness. “Hervey says that you murdered my poor assistant, and although my discovery of this manuscript proves that you must have known about the jewels, I say nothing. I wait to hear your defense.”
“That's very good of you,” remarked Sir Frank ironically. “So it seems that I am in the dock. Perhaps the counsel for the prosecution will state the evidence against me,” and he looked again from one to the other.
Archie shook the baronet by the hand very warmly.
“My dear fellow,” he declared decidedly, “I don't believe one word of the evidence.”
“In that case there must be a flaw in it,” retorted Random, but did not seem to be unmoved by Hope's generous action. “Sit down, Professor; it appears that you are against me.”
“Until I hear your defense,” said the old man obstinately.
“I cannot make any until I hear your evidence. Go on. I am waiting,” and Sir Frank flung himself into a chair, where he sat calmly, his eyes steadily fixed on the Professor's face.
“Where did you get that manuscript?” asked Braddock sharply.
“I got it nowhere: this is the first time I have seen it.”
“Yet it was hidden amongst your books.”
“Then I can't say how it got there. Were you looking for it?”
“No! Certainly not. To pass the time while waiting, I examined your library, and in pulling out a book, your case, being a swing one, over-balanced and shot its contents on to the floor. Amongst the papers which fell with the books, I caught a glimpse of the manuscript, and, noting that it was written in Latin, I picked it up, surprised to think that a frivolous young man, such as you are, should study a dead language. A few words showed me that the manuscript was a copy of the one referred to by Don Pedro.”
“One moment,” said Archie, who had been thinking. “Perhaps this is the original manuscript, which De Gayangos has given to you, Random.”
“It is good of you to afford me a loophole of escape,” said Sir Frank, leaning back with folded arms, “but De Gayangos gave me nothing. I saw the manuscript in his hands, when he showed it to us all at Mrs. Jasher's. But whether this is the original or a copy I can't say. Don Pedro certainly did not give it to me.”
“Has Don Pedro been in your quarters?” asked Hope thoughtfully.
“No. He has only visited me in the mess. And even if Don Pedro did come in here—for I guess what is in your mind—I really do not see why he should slip a manuscript which he values highly amongst my books.”
“Then you really never saw this before?” said Braddock, indicating the paper on the table, and impressed by Random's earnestness.
“How often do you want me to deny it?” retorted the young man impatiently. “Perhaps you will state on what grounds I am accused?”
Braddock nodded and cleared his throat.
“Captain Hervey declared that your yacht arrived at Pierside almost at the same time as his steamer.”
“Quite right. When Don Pedro received a wire from Malta stating that the mummy had been sold to you, and that it was being shipped to London on The Diver, I got up steam at once, and chased the tramp to that port. As the tramp was slow, and my boat was fast, I arrived on the same day and almost at the same hour, even though Hervey's boat had the start of mine.”
“Why were you anxious to follow The Diver?” asked Hope.
“Don Pedro wished to get back the mummy, and asked me to follow. As I was in love with Donna Inez, and still am, I was only too willing to oblige him.”
Braddock nodded again.
“Hervey says that you went on board The Diver, and had an interview with Bolton.”
“That is perfectly true, and my visit was paid for the same reason as I followed the steamer to London—that is, I acted on behalf of Don Pedro. I wished to ascertain for certain that the mummy was on board, and having done so from Bolton, I urged him to induce you to give back the same, free of charge, to De Gayangos, from whom it had been stolen. He refused, as he declared that he intended to deliver it to you.”
“I knew I could always trust Bolton,” said the Professor enthusiastically. “It would have been better for you to have come to me, Random.”
“I daresay; but I wished, as I told you, to make certain that the mummy was on board. That was the real reason for my visit; but, being in Bolton's company, I naturally told him that Don Pedro claimed the mummy as his property, and warned him that if you or he kept the same, that there would be trouble.”
“Did you use threats?” asked Hope, remembering what he had overheard.
“No; certainly not.”
“Yes, you did,” cried Braddock quickly. “Hervey declares that you told Bolton that he would repent of keeping the mummy, and that his life would not be safe while he held it.”
To the surprise of both visitors, Random admitted using these serious threats without a moment's hesitation.
“Don Pedro told me that many Indians, both in Lima and Cuzco, who look upon him as the lawful descendant of the last Inca, are anxiously expecting the return of the royal mummy. He also stated that when the Indians knew who held the mummy they would send one of themselves to get it back, if he—Don Pedro, that is—did not fetch it. To get back the mummy Don Pedro declared that these Indians would not stop short of murder. Hence my warning to Bolton.”
“Oh!” Archie jumped up with widely opened eyes. “Then perhaps this solves the problem. Bolton was murdered by some Peruvian Indian.”
Random shook his head gravely.
“Again you offer me a loophole of escape, my dear fellow,” he said sententiously, “but that theory will not hold water. At present the Indians in Lima and Cuzco do not know that the mummy has been found. Don Pedro only chanced upon the paper which announced the sale by accident and had no time to communicate with his barbaric friends in South America. Failing to get the mummy from you, Professor, he would have returned to Peru and then would have told who possessed the corpse of Inca Caxas, leaving the Indians to deal with the matter. In that case my warning to Bolton would be necessary. But at the time I told him, it was not necessary. However, Bolton remained true to you, Professor, and declined to surrender the mummy. I therefore wired to Don Pedro at Genoa that the mummy was on board The Diver and was being sent to Gartley. I also advised him to come to me here in order to be introduced to you. The rest you know.”
There was a moment's silence. Then Archie, to test if Random was willing to admit everything—as an innocent man certainly would—asked significantly,
“Did you see Bolton again after your interview on board ship?”
It was then that the baronet proved his good faith.
“Oh, yes,” he said easily and without hesitation. “I was walking about Pierside later, and, passing along that waterside alley near the Sailor's Rest, I saw a window on the ground floor open, and Bolton looking out across the river. I stopped and asked him when he proposed to take the mummy to Gartley, and if it was on shore. He admitted that it was in the hotel, but declined to say when he would send it on to you, Professor. When he closed the window, I afterwards went into the hotel and had a drink in order to ask casually when Mr. Bolton intended to leave. I gathered—not directly, of course, but in a roundabout way—that he had arranged to go next morning and to send on his luggage. Then I left and went to London. In the course of time I returned here and learned of the murder and the disappearance of the corpse of Inca Caxas. And now,” Random stood up, “having admitted all this, perhaps you will believe me to be innocent.”
“You have no idea who murdered Bolton and placed his body in the packing case?” asked Braddock, manifestly disappointed.
“'No. No more than I have any idea of the person who placed the mummy case and its contents in Mrs. Jasher's garden.”
“Oh, you know that!” said Archie quickly.
“Yes. The news was all over the village this morning. I could hardly help knowing it. And I believe that the mummy has been taken to your house, Professor.”
“It has,” admitted Braddock dryly. “I took it myself from Mrs. Jasher's arbor in a hand-cart, with the assistance of Cockatoo. But when I made an examination this morning in the presence of Hope and Don Pedro, I found that the swathings of the body had been ripped up, and that the emeralds mentioned in that manuscript had been stolen.”
“Strange!” said Random with a frown; “and by whom?”
“No doubt by the assassin of Sidney Bolton.”
“Probably.” Random kicked a mat straight with his foot. “At any rate the theft of the emeralds shows that it was not any Indian who killed Bolton. None of them would rifle so sacred a corpse.”
“Besides which—as you say—the Indians in Peru do not know that the mummy has reappeared after thirty years' seclusion,” chimed in Hope, rising. “Well, and what is to be done now?”
For answer Sir Frank picked up the manuscript which still remained on the table.
“I shall see Don Pedro about this,” he said quietly, “and ascertain if it is the original or a copy.”
Braddock rose slowly and stared at the paper.
“Do you know Latin?” he asked.
“No,” rejoined Random, knowing what the savant meant. “I learned it, of course, but I have forgotten much. I might translate a word or two, but certainly not the hedge-priest Latin in which this is written.” He looked carefully at the manuscript as he spoke.
“But who could have placed it in your room?” questioned Archie.
“We cannot learn that until we see Don Pedro. If this is the original manuscript which we saw the other night, we may learn how it passed from the possession of De Gayangos to my bookcase. If it is a copy, then we must learn, if possible, who owned it.”
“Don Pedro said that a transcript or a translation had been made,” mentioned Hope.
“Evidently a transcript,” said Braddock, glaring at the paper in Random's hand. “But how could that find its way from Lima to this place?”
“It might have been packed up with the mummy,” suggested Archie.
“No,” contradicted Random decisively, “in that event, the man in Malta from whom the mummy was bought would have discovered the emeralds, and would have taken them.”
“Perhaps he did. We have nothing to show that Bolton's assassin committed the crime for the sake of the jewels.”
“He must have done so,” cried the Professor, irritably, “else there is no motive for the commission of the crime. But I think myself that we must start at the other end to find a clue. When we discover who placed the mummy in Mrs. Jasher's garden—”
“That will not be easy,” murmured Hope thoughtfully, “though, of course, the same must have been brought by river. Let us go down to the embankment and see if there are any signs of a boat having been brought there last night,” and he moved to the door. “Random?”
“I cannot leave the Fort, as I am on duty,” replied the officer, putting the manuscript away in a drawer and locking the same, “but this evening I shall see Don Pedro, and in the meanwhile I shall endeavor to learn from my servant who visited me lately while I was absent. The manuscript must have been brought here by someone. But I trust,” he added as he escorted his two visitors to the door, “that you now acquit me of—”
“Yes! yes! yes!” cried Braddock, hastily cutting him short and shaking his hand. “I apologize for my suspicions. Now I maintain that you are innocent.”
“And I never believed you to be guilty,” cried Hope heartily.
“Thank you both,” said Random simply, and, having closed the door, he returned to a chair near the fire to smoke a pipe, and meditate over his future movements. “An enemy hath done this,” said Random, referring to the concealment of the manuscript, but he could think of no one who desired to harm him in any way.
Lucy and Mrs. Jasher were having a confidential conversation in the small pink drawing-room. True to her promise, Miss Kendal had come to readjust matters between the fiery little Professor and the widow. But it was not an easy task, as Mrs. Jasher was righteously indignant at the rash words used to her.
“As if I knew anything about the matter,” she repeated again and again in angry tones. “Why, my dear, he as good as told me I had murdered—”
Lucy did not let her finish.
“There! there!” she said, speaking as she would have done to a fretful child, “you know what my father is.”
“It seems to me that I am just beginning to learn,” said the widow bitterly, “and knowing how ready he is to believe ill of me, I think it is better we should part for ever.”
“But you'll never be Lady Braddock.”
“Even if I married him, I am not sure that I should be, since I learn that his brother is singularly healthy and comes of a long-lived family. And it will not be pleasant to live with your father when he has such a temper.”
“That was only because he was excited. Think of your salon, and of the position you wish to hold in, London.”
“Ah, well,” said Mrs. Jasher, visibly softening, “there is something to be said there. After all, one can never find a man who is perfection. And a very amiable man is usually a fool. One can't expect a rose to be without thorns. But really, my dear,” she surveyed Lucy with mild surprise, “you appear to be very anxious that I should marry your father.”
“I want to see my father made comfortable before I marry Archie,” said the girl with a blush. “Of course my father is quite a child in household affairs and needs everything done for him. Archie—I am glad to say—is now in a position to marry me in the spring. I want you to be married about the same time, and then you can live in Gartley, and—”
“No, my dear,” said Mrs. Jasher firmly, “if I marry your father, he wishes us to go at once to Egypt in search of this tomb.”
“I know that he wants you to help with the money left to you by your late brother. But surely you will not go up the Nile yourself?”
“No, certainly not,” said the widow promptly. “I shall remain in Cairo while the Professor goes on his excursion into Ethiopia. I know that Cairo is a very charming place, and that I shall be able to enjoy myself there.”
“Then you have decided to forgive my father for his rash words?”
“I must,” sighed Mrs. Jasher. “I am so tired of being an unprotected widow without a recognized position in the world. Even with my brother's money,—not that it is so very much—I shall still be looked upon askance if I go into society. But as Mrs. Braddock, or Lady Braddock, no one will dare to say a word against me. Yes, my dear, if your father comes and, asks my pardon he shall have it. We women are so weak,” ended the widow virtuously, as if she was not making a virtue of necessity.
Things being thus settled, the two talked on amiably for some time, and discussed the chances of Random marrying Donna Inez. Both acknowledged that the Peruvian lady was handsome enough, but had not a word to say for herself.
While thus chattering, Professor Braddock trotted into the room, looking brisk and bright from his stroll in the cold frosty air. Gifted as he was with scientific assurance, the little man was not at all taken aback by the cold reception of Mrs. Jasher, but rubbed his hands cheerfully.
“Ah, there you are, Selina,” said he, looking like a bright-eyed robin. “I hope you are feeling well.”
“How can you expect me to feel well after what you said?” remarked Mrs. Jasher reproachfully, and anxious to make a virtue of forgiveness.
“Oh, I beg pardon: I beg pardon. Surely, Selina, you are not going to make a fuss over a trifle like that?”
“I did not give you permission to call me Selina.”
“Quite so. But as we are to be married, I may as well get used to your Christian name, my dear.”
“I am not so sure that we will be married,” said Mrs. Jasher stiffly.
“Oh, but we must,” cried Braddock in dismay. “I am depending upon your money to finance my expedition to Queen Tahoser's tomb.”
“I see,” observed the widow coldly, while Lucy sat quietly by and allowed the elder woman to conduct the campaign, “you want me for my money. There is no love in the question.”
“My dear, as soon as I have the time—say during our voyage to Cairo, whence we start inland up the Nile for Ethiopia—I shall make love whenever you like. And, confound it, Selina, I admire you no end—to use a slang phrase. You are a fine woman and a sensible woman, and I am afraid that you are throwing yourself away on a snuffy old man like myself.”
“Oh no! no! Pray do not say that,” cried Mrs. Jasher, visibly moved by this flattery. “You will make a very good husband if you will only strive to govern your temper.”
“Temper! temper! Bless the woman—I mean you, Selina—I have the very best temper in the world. However, you shall govern it and myself also if you like. Come,” he took her hand, “let us be friends and fix the wedding day.”
Mrs. Jasher did not withdraw her hand.
“Then you do not believe that I have anything to do with this terrible murder?” she asked playfully.
“No! no! I was heated last night. I spoke rashly and hastily. Forgive and forget, Selina. You are innocent—quite innocent, in spite of the mummy being in your confounded garden. After all, the evidence is stronger against Random than against you. Perhaps he put it there: it's on his way to the Fort, you see. Never mind. He has exonerated himself, and no doubt, when confronted with Hervey, will be able to silence that blackguard. And I am quite sure that Hervey is a blackguard,” ended Braddock, rubbing his bald head.
The two ladies looked at one another in amazement, not knowing what to say. They were ignorant of the theft of the emeralds and of the accusation of Sir Frank by the Yankee skipper. But, with his usual absentmindedness, Braddock had forgotten all about that, and sat in his chair rubbing his head quite pink and rattling on cheerfully.
“I went down with Hope to the embankment,” he continued, “but neither of us could see any sign of a boat. There's the rude, short jetty, of course, and if a boat came, a boat could go away without leaving any trace. Perhaps that is so. However, we must wait until we see Don Pedro and Hervey again, and then—”
Lucy broke in desperately.
“What are you talking about, father? Why do you bring in Sir Frank's name in that way?”
“What do you expect me to say?” retorted the little man. “After all, the manuscript was found in his room, and the emeralds are gone. I saw that for myself, as did Hope and Don Pedro, in whose presence I opened the mummy case.”
Mrs. Jasher rose in her astonishment.
“Are the emeralds gone?” she gasped.
“Yes! yes! yes!” cried Braddock irritably. “Am I not telling you so? I almost believe in Hervey's accusation of Random, and yet the boy exonerated himself very forcibly—very forcibly indeed.”
“Will you explain all that has happened, father?” said Lucy, who was becoming more and more perplexed by this rambling chatter. “We are quite in the dark.”
“So am I: so is Hope: so is every one,” chuckled Braddock. “Ah, yes: of course, you were not present when these events took place.”
“What events?—what events?” demanded Mrs. Jasher, now quite exasperated.
“I am about to tell you,” snapped her future husband, and related all that had taken place since the arrival of Captain Hervey in the museum at the Pyramids. The women listened with interest and with growing astonishment, only interrupting the narrator with a simultaneous exclamation of indignation when they heard that Sir Frank was accused.
“It is utterly and wholly absurd,” cried Lucy angrily. “Sir Frank is the soul of honor.”
“So I think, my dear,” chimed in Mrs. Jasher. “And what does he say to—?”
Braddock interrupted.
“I am about to tell you, if you will stop talking,” he cried crossly. “That is so like a woman. She asks for an explanation and then prevents the man from giving it. Random offers a very good defense, I am bound to say,” and he detailed what Sir Frank had said.
When the history was finished, Lucy rose to go.
“I shall see Archie at once,” she said, moving hastily, towards the door.
“What for?” demanded her father benignly.
Lucy turned.
“This thing can't go on,” she declared resolutely. “Mrs. Jasher was accused by you, father—”
“Only in a heated moment,” cried the Professor, excusing himself.
“Never mind, she was accused,” retorted Lucy stubbornly, “and now this sailor accuses Sir Frank. Who knows who will be charged next with committing the crime? I shall ask Archie to take the matter up, and hunt down the real criminal. Until the guilty person is found, I foresee that we shall never have a moment's peace.”
“I quite agree with you,” said Mrs. Jasher earnestly. “For my own sake I wish the matter of this mystery to be cleared up. Why don't you help me?” she added, turning to Braddock, who listened placidly.
“I am helping,” said Braddock quietly. “I intend to set Cockatoo on the trail at once. He shall take up his abode in the Sailor's Rest on some pretext, and no doubt will be able to find a clue.”
“What?” cried the widow incredulously, “a savage like that?”
“Cockatoo is much cleverer than the average white man,” said Braddock dryly, “especially in following a trail. He, if any one, will learn the truth. I would much rather trust the Kanaka than young Hope.”
“Nonsense!” cried Lucy, standing up for her lover. “Archie is the one to discover the assassin. I'll see him at once. And you, father?”
“I, my dear,” said the Professor calmly, “shall remain here and make my peace with the future Mrs. Braddock.”
“You have made it already,” said the widow graciously, and extended her hand, which the Professor kissed unexpectedly, and then sat back in his chair, looking quite abashed at his outburst of gallantry.
Seeing that everything was going well, Lucy left the elderly couple to continue their courting, and hurried to Archie's lodgings in the village. However, he happened to be out, and his landlady did not know when he would return. Rather annoyed by this, since she greatly desired to unbosom herself, Miss Kendal walked disconsolately towards the Pyramids. On the way she was stopped by Widow Anne, looking more dismal and funereal than ever, and garrulous with copious draughts of gin. Not that she was intoxicated, but her tongue was loose, and she wept freely for no apparent reason. According to herself, she had stopped Lucy to demand back from Mr. Hope through the girl certain articles of attire which had been borrowed for artistic purposes. These, consisting of a shawl and a skirt and a bodice, were of extraordinary value, and Mrs. Bolton wanted them back or their equivalent in value. She mentioned that she would prefer the sum of five pounds.
“Why do you not ask Mr. Hope yourself?” said Lucy who was too impatient to bear with the old creature's maunderings. “If you gave him the things he will no doubt return them.”
“If they aren't spiled with paint,” wailed Widow Anne. “He told my Sid as he wanted them for a model to wear while being painted. Sid asked me, and I gave 'em to Sid, and Sid, he passed 'em along to your good gentleman. There was a skirt, as good as new, and a body of the dress trimmest beautiful, and a tartan shawl as I got from my mother. But no,” the old woman corrected herself, “it was a dark shawl with red spots and—”
“Ask Mr. Hope, ask Mr. Hope,” cried Miss Kendal impatiently. “I know nothing about the things,” and she tore her dress from Widow Anne's detaining hand to hurry home. Mrs. Bolton wailed aloud at this desertion, and took her way to Hope's lodgings, where she declared her determination to remain until the artist restored her apparel.
Lucy for the moment thought little of this interview; but on reflection she thought it strange that Archie should borrow clothes from Mrs. Bolton through Sidney. Not that there was anything strange in Archie's procuring such garments, since he may have wanted them to clothe a model with. But he could easily have got such things from his landlady, or, if from Widow Anne, could have borrowed them direct without appealing to Sidney. Why, then, had the dead man acted as an intermediate party? This question was hard to answer, yet Lucy greatly wished for a reply, since she suddenly remembered how a woman in a dark dress and with a dark shawl over her head had been seen by Eliza Flight, the housemaid of the Sailor's Rest, talking to Bolton through the window. Were the garments borrowed as a disguise, and did the person who had borrowed them desire that it should be supposed that Widow Anne was talking to her son? There was a chill hand clutching Lucy's heart as she went home, for the words of Mrs. Bolton seemed indirectly to implicate Hope in the mystery. She determined to ask him about the matter straight out, when he came in that night to pay his usual visit.
At dinner the Professor was in excellent spirits, and actually became so human as to compliment Lucy on her housekeeping. He also mentioned that he hoped Mrs. Jasher would cater as excellently. Over coffee he informed his step-daughter that he had entirely won the widow's heart by abasing himself at her feet and withdrawing the accusation. They had arranged to be married in May, one or two weeks after Lucy became Mrs. Hope. In the autumn they would start for Egypt, and would remain abroad for a year or more.
“In fact,” said the Professor, setting down his cup and preparing to take his departure, “everything is now settled excellently. I marry Mrs. Jasher: you, my dear, marry Hope, and—”
“And Sir Frank marries Donna Inez,” finished Lucy quickly.
“That,” said Braddock stiffly, “entirely depends upon what De Gayangos says to this accusation of Hervey's.”
“Sir Frank is innocent.”
“I hope so, and I believe so. But he will have to prove his innocence. I shall do my best, and I have sent round to Don Pedro to come here. We can then talk it over.”
“Can Archie and I come in also?” asked Miss Kendal anxiously.
Somewhat to her surprise, the Professor yielded a ready assent.
“By all means, my dear. The more witnesses we have, the better it will be. We must do all in our powers to bring this matter to a successful issue.”
So things were arranged, and when Archie came up to the drawing-room, Lucy informed him that Braddock was in the museum with Don Pedro, telling all that had happened. Hope was glad to hear that Lucy had secured the Professor's consent that they should be present, for the mystery of Bolton's terrible death was piquing him, and he dearly desired to learn the truth. As a matter of fact, although he was unaware of it, he was suffering from an attack of detective fever, and wished to solve the mystery. He therefore went gladly into the museum with his sweetheart. Oddly enough—as Lucy recollected when it was too late to speak—she quite forgot to relate what Widow Anne had said about the borrowed clothes.
Don Pedro, looking more stiff and dignified than ever, was in the museum with Braddock. The two men were seated in comfortable chairs, and Cockatoo, some distance away, was polishing with a cloth the green mummy case of the fatal object which had brought about all the trouble. Lucy had half expected to see Donna Inez, but De Gayangos explained that he had left her writing letters to Lima in the Warrior Inn. When Miss Kendal and Hope were seated, the Peruvian expressed himself much surprised at the charge which had been brought against Sir Frank.
“If I can speak of such things in the presence of a lady,” he remarked, bowing his head to Lucy.
“Oh yes,” she answered eagerly. “I have heard all about the charge. And I am glad that you are here, Don Pedro, for I wish to say that I do not believe there is a word of truth in the accusation.”
“Nor do I,” asserted the Peruvian decisively.
“I agree—I agree,” cried Braddock, beaming. “And you, Hope?”
“I never believed it, even before I heard Random's defense,” said Archie with a dry smile. “Did you not see Captain Hervey yourself, sir?” he added, turning to Don Pedro; “he started for Pierside to look you up.”
“I have not seen him,” said De Gayangos in his stately way, “and I am very sorry, as I desire to examine him about the accusation he had dared to bring against my very good friend, Sir Frank Random. I wish he were here at this very minute, so that I could tell him what I think of the charge.”
Just as Don Pedro spoke the unexpected happened, as though some genie had obeyed his commands. As though transported into the room by magic, the American skipper appeared, not through the floor, but by the door. A female domestic admitted him and announced his name, then fled to avoid the anger of her master, seeing she had violated the sacred precincts of the museum.
Captain Hervey, amused by the surprise visible on every face, sauntered forward, hat on head and cheroot in mouth as usual. But when he saw Lucy he removed both with a politeness scarcely to be expected from so rude and ready and rough a mariner.
“I beg pardon for coming here uninvited,” said Hervey awkwardly, “but I've been chasing the Don all over Pierside and through this village. They told me at the police office that you”—he spoke to De Gayangos “had doubled on your trail, so here I am for a little private conversation.”
The Peruvian looked gravely at Hervey's face, which was clearly revealed in the powerful light of the many lamps with which the museum was filled, and rose to bow.
“I am glad to see you, sir,” he said politely, and with a still more searching glance. “With the permission of our host I shall ask you to take a chair,” and he turned to Braddock.
“Certainly! certainly!” said the Professor fussily. “Cockatoo?”
“Pardon, allow me,” said De Gayangos, and brought forward a chair, still keeping his eyes on the skipper, who was rather confused by the courtesy. “Will you be seated, senor: then we can talk.”
Hervey sat down quietly close to the Peruvian; who then leaned forward to address him.
“You will have a cigarette?” he asked, offering a silver case.
“Thanks, no. I'll smoke a cheroot if the lady don't mind.”
“Not at all,” replied Lucy, who, along with Archie and the Professor, was puzzled by Don Pedro's manner. “Please smoke!”
In taking back the case Don Pedro allowed it to drop. As he made no motion of picking it up, Hervey, although annoyed with himself for his politeness towards a yellow-stomach, as he called De Gayangos, was compelled to stretch for it. As he handed it back to Don Pedro, the Peruvian's eyes lighted up and he nodded gravely.
“Thank you, Vasa,” said De Gayangos, and Hervey, changing color, leaped from his seat as though touched by a spear-point.
For a few moments there was silence. Lucy and Archie sat still, as they were too much surprised by Don Pedro's recognition of Captain Hervey as the Swedish sailor Vasa to move or speak. But the Professor did not seem to be greatly astonished, and the sole sound which broke the stillness was his sardonic chuckle. Perhaps the little man had progressed beyond the point of being surprised at anything, or, like, Moliere's hero, was only surprised at finding virtue in unexpected places.
As for the Peruvian and the skipper, they were both on their feet, eyeing one another like two fighting dogs. Hervey was the first to find his very useful tongue.
“I guess you've got the bulge on me,” said he, trying to outstare the Peruvian, for which nationality, from long voyaging on the South American coast, he entertained the most profound contempt.
But in De Gayangos he found a foeman worthy of his steel.
“I think not,” said Don Pedro quietly, and facing the pseudo-American bravely. “I never forget faces, and yours is a noticeable one. When you first spoke I fancied that I remembered your voice. All that business with the chair was to get close to you, so that I could see the scar on your right temple. It is still there, I notice. Also, I dropped my cigarette case and forced you to pick it up, so that, when you stretched your arm, I might see what mark was on your left wrist. It is a serpent encircling the sun, which Lola Farjados induced you to have tattooed when you were in Lima thirty years ago. Your eyes are blue and full of light, and as you were twenty when I knew you, the lapse of years has made you fifty—your present age.”
“Shucks!” said Hervey coolly, and sat down to smoke.
Don Pedro turned to Archie and Braddock.
“Mr. Hope! Professor!” he remarked, “if you remember the description I gave of Gustav Vasa, I appeal to you to see if it does not exactly fit this man?”
“It does,” said Archie unhesitatingly, “although I cannot see the tattooed left wrist to which you refer.”
Hervey, still smoking, made no offer to show the symbol, but Braddock unexpectedly came to the assistance of Don Pedro.
“The man is Vasa right enough,” he remarked abruptly. “Whether he is Swedish or American I cannot say. But he is the same man I met when I was in Lima thirty years ago, after the war.”
Hervey slowly turned his blue eyes on the scientist with a twinkle in their depths.
“So you recognized me?” he observed, with his Yankee drawl.
“I recognized you at the moment I hired you to take The Diver to Malta to bring back that mummy,” retorted Braddock, “but it didn't suit my book to let on. Didn't you recognize me?”
“Wal, no,” said Hervey, his drawl more pronounced than ever. “I haven't got the memory for faces that you and the Don here seem to possess. Huh!” He wheeled his chair and faced Braddock squarely. “I'd have thought you wiser not to back up the Don, sir.”
Braddock's little eyes sparkled.
“I am not afraid of you,” said he with great contempt. “I never did anything for which you could get money out of me for, Captain Hervey or Gustav Vasa, or whatever your name might be.”
“You were always a mighty spry man,” assented the skipper coolly, “but spry men, I take it, make mistakes from being too almighty smart.”
Braddock shrugged his shoulders, and Don Pedro intervened.
“This is all beside the point,” he remarked angrily. “Captain Hervey, do you deny that you are Gustav Vasa in the face of this evidence?”
Hervey drew up the left sleeve of his reefer jacket, and showed on his bared wrist the symbol of the sun and the encircling serpent.
“Is that enough?” he drawled, “or do you want to look at this?” and he turned his head to reveal his scarred right temple.
“Then you admit that you are Vasa?”
“Wal,” drawled the captain again, “that's one of my names, I guess, though I haven't used it since I traded that blamed mummy in Paris, thirty years ago. There's nothing like owning up.”
“Are you not Swedish?” asked Lucy timidly.
“I am a citizen of the world, I guess,” replied Hervey with great politeness for him, “and America suits me for headquarters as well as any other nation. I might be Swedish or Danish or a Dago for choice. Vasa may be my name, or Hervey, or anything you like. But I guess I'm a man all through.”
“And a thief!” cried Don Pedro, who had resumed his seat, but was keeping quiet with difficulty.
“Not of those emeralds,” rejoined the skipper coolly: “Lord, to think of the chance I missed! Thirty years ago I could have looted them, and again the other day. But I never knew—I never knew,” cried Hervey regretfully, with his vividly blue eyes on the mummy. “I could jes' kick myself, gentlemen, when I think of the miss.”
“Then you didn't steal the manuscript along with the emeralds?”
“Wal, I did,” cried Hervey, turning to Archie, who had spoken, “but it was in a furren lingo, to which I didn't catch on. If I'd known I'd have learned about those blamed emeralds.”
“What did you do with the copy of the manuscript you stole?” asked Don Pedro sharply. “I know there was a copy, as my father told me so. I have the original myself, but the transcript—and not a translation, as I fancied—appeared in Sir Frank Random's room to-day, hidden behind some books.”
Hervey made no move, but smoked steadily, with his eyes on the carpet. However, Archie, who was observing keenly, saw that he was more startled than he would admit. The explanation had taken him by surprise.
“Explain!” cried the Peruvian sharply.
Hervey looked up and fixed a pair of very evil eyes on the Don.
“See here,” he remarked, “if the lady wasn't present, I'd show you that I take no orders from any yellow—that is, from any low-down Don.”
“Lucy, my dear, leave us,” said Braddock, rising, much excited; “we must have this matter sifted to the bottom, and if Hervey can explain better in your absence, I think you should go.”
Although Miss Kendal was very anxious to hear all that was to be heard, she saw the advisability of taking this advice, especially as Hope gave her arm a meaning nudge.
“I'll go,” she said meekly, and was escorted by her lover to the door. There she paused. “Tell me all that takes place,” she whispered, and when Archie nodded, she vanished promptly. The young man closed the door and returned to his seat in time to hear Don Pedro reiterate his request for an explanation.
“And 'spose I can't oblige,” said the skipper, now more at his ease since the lady was out of the room.
“Then I shall have you arrested,” was the quick reply.
“For what?”
“For the theft of my mummy.”
Hervey laughed raucously.
“I guess the law can't worry me about that after thirty years, and in a low-down country like Peru. Your Government has shifted fifty times since I looted the corpse.”
This was quite true, and there was absolutely no chance of the skipper being brought to book. Don Pedro looked rather disconsolate, and his gaze dropped under the glare of Hervey's eyes, which seemed unfair, seeing that the Don was as good as the captain was evil.
“You can't expect me to condone the theft,” he muttered.
“I reckon I don't expect anything,” retorted Hervey coolly “I looted the corpse, I don't deny, and—”
“After my father had treated you like a son,” said Don Pedro bitterly. “You were homeless and friendless, and my father took you in, only to find that you robbed him of his most precious possession.”
The skipper had the grace to blush, and shifted uneasily in his chair.
“You can't say truer than that,” he grumbled, averting his eyes. “I guess I'm a bad lot all through. But a friend of mine wanted the corpse, and offered me a heap of dollars to see the business through.”
“Do you mean to say that some one asked you to steal it?”
“No,” put in Braddock unexpectedly, “for I was the friend.”
“You!” Don Pedro swung round in great astonishment, but the Professor faced him with all the consciousness of innocence.
“Yes,” he remarked quietly, “as I told you, I was in Peru thirty years ago. I was then hunting for specimens of Inca mummies. Vasa—this man now called Hervey—told me that he could obtain a splendid specimen of a mummy, and I arranged to give him one hundred pounds to procure what I wanted. But I swear to you, De Gayangos,” continued the little man earnestly, “that I did not know he proposed to steal the mummy from you.”
“You knew it was the green mummy?” asked Don Pedro sharply.
“No, I only knew that it was a mummy.”
“Did Vasa get it for you?”
“I guess not,” said the gentleman who confessed to that name. “The Professor went to Cuzco and got into trouble—”
“I was carried off to the mountains by some Indians,” interpolated the Professor, “and only escaped after a year's captivity. I did not mind that, as it gave me the opportunity of studying a decaying civilization. But when I returned a free man to Lima, I found that Vasa had left the country with the mummy.”
“That's so,” assented Hervey, waving his hand. “I got a berth as second mate on a wind-jammer sailing to Europe, and as the country wasn't healthy for me since I'd looted the green mummy, I took it abroad and yanked it to Paris, where I sold it for a couple of hundred pounds. With that, I changed my name and had a high old time. I never heard of the blamed thing again until the Professor here turned up with Mr. Bolton at Pierside, asking me to bring it in The Diver from Malta. It was what you'd call a coincidence, I reckon,” added Hervey lazily; “but I did cry small when I heard the Professor here had paid nine hundred for a thing I'd let slip for two hundred. Had I known of those infernal emeralds, I'd have ripped open the case on board and would have recouped myself. But I knew nothing, and Bolton never told me.”
“How could he,” asked Braddock quietly, “when he did not know that any jewels were buried with the dead? I did not know either. And I have explained why I wanted the mummy. But it never struck me until I hear what you say now, that this mummy,” he nodded towards the green case, “was the one which you had stolen at Lima from De Gayangos. But you must do me the justice, Captain Hervey, to tell Don Pedro that I never countenanced the theft.”
“No! you were square enough, I guess. The sin is on my own blessed shoulders, and I don't ask it to be shifted.”
“What did you do with the copy of the manuscript?” asked Don Pedro.
Hervey ruminated.
“I can't think,” he mused. “I found a screed of Latin along with the mummy, when I looted it from your Lima house, but it dropped out of my mind as to what became of it. Maybe I passed it along to the Paris man, and he sold it along with the corpse to the Maltese gent.”
“But I tell you this copy was found in Sir Frank's room,” insisted De Gayangos. “How did it come to be there?”
Captain Hervey rose and took a turn up and down the room. When Cockatoo came in his way he calmly kicked him aside.
“What do you think, Mr. Hope?” he asked, coming to a full stop before Archie, while Cockatoo crept away with a very dark scowl.
“I don't know what to think,” replied that young gentleman promptly, “save that Sir Frank is my very good friend, and that I take his word that he knows nothing of how the manuscript came to be hidden in his bookcase.”
“Huh!” said Hervey scornfully, and took another turn up and down the room in silence. “I surmise that your friend isn't a white man.”
Hope leaped to his feet.
“That's a lie,” he said distinctly.
“I'd have shot you for that down Chili way,” snapped the skipper.
“Possibly,” retorted the artist dryly, “but I happen to be handy with my revolver also. I say again that you lie. Random is not the man to commit so foul a crime.”
“Then how did the manuscript get into his room?” questioned Hervey.
“He is trying to learn, and, when he does, will come here to let us all know, Captain Hervey. But I ask you on what grounds you accuse him? Oh I know all you said to-day,” added Hope scornfully, waving his hand; “but you can't prove that Random got the manuscript.”
“If it's in his room, as you acknowledge, I can,” said Hervey, speaking in a much more cultivated tone. “See here. As I said before, that copy must have been passed along with the corpse to the Maltese man. Well, then, the Professor here bought the corpse, and with it the manuscript.”
“No,” contradicted the little man, prodigiously excited. “Bolton wrote to me full particulars of the mummy, but said nothing about any manuscript.”
“Well, he wouldn't,” replied Hervey calmly, “seeing that he'd know Latin.”
“He did know Latin,” admitted Braddock uneasily; “I taught him myself. But do you mean to say that he got that manuscript and read it and intended to keep the fact of the emeralds secret?”
Hervey nodded three times, and twisted his cheroot in his mouth.
“How else can you figure the business out?” he demanded quietly, and with his eyes fixed on the excited Professor. “Bolton must have got that manuscript, as I can't remember what I did with it, save pass it along with the corpse. He—as you admit—doesn't tell you about it when he writes. Well, then, I reckon he calculated getting this corpse to England, and intended to steal the emeralds when safely ashore.”
“But he could have done that on the boat,” said Archie quickly.
“I guess not, with me about,” said Hervey coolly. “I'd have spotted his game and would have howled for shares.”
“You dare to say that?” demanded De Gayangos fiercely.
“Keep your hair on. I dare to say anything that comes up my darned back, you bet. I'm not going to knuckle down to a yellow-stomach—”
Out flew Don Pedro's long arm, and Hervey slammed against the wall. He slipped his hand around to his hip pocket with an ugly smile, but before he could use the revolver he produced, Hope dashed up his arm, and the ball went through the ceiling. “Lucy!” cried the young man, knowing that the drawing-room was overhead, and in a moment was out of the door, racing up the stairs at top speed. Some sense of shame seemed to overpower Hervey as he thought that he might have shot the girl, and he replaced the revolver in his pocket with a shrug.
“I climb down and apologize,” he said to Don Pedro, who bowed gravely.
“Hang you, sir; you might have shot my daughter,” cried Braddock. “The drawing-room, where she is sitting, is right overhead, and-”
As he spoke the door opened, and Lucy came in on Archie's arm. She was pale with fright, but had sustained no damage. It seemed that the revolver bullet had passed through the floor some distance away from where she was sitting.
“I offer my humble apologies, miss,” said the cowed Hervey.
“I'll break your neck, you ruffian!” growled Hope, who looked, and was, dangerous. “How dare you shoot here and—”
“It's all right,” interposed Lucy, not wishing for further trouble. “I am all safe. But I shall remain here for the rest of your interview, Captain Hervey, as I am sure you will not shoot again in the presence of a lady.”
“No, miss,” muttered the captain, and when again invited by the angry Professor to speak, resumed his discourse in low tones. “Wal, as I was saying,” he remarked, sitting down with a dogged look, “Bolton intended to clear with the emeralds, but I guess Sir Frank got ahead of him and packed him in that blamed case, while he annexed the emeralds. He then took the manuscript, which he looted from Bolton's corpse, and hid it among his books, as you say, while he left the blamed mummy in the garden of the old lady you talked about. I guess that's what I say.”
“It's all theory,” said Don Pedro in vexed tones.
“And there isn't a word of truth in it,” said Lucy indignantly, standing up for Frank Random.
“It ain't for me to contradict you, miss,” said Hervey, who was still humble, “but I ask you, if what I say ain't true, how did that copy of the manuscript come to be in that aristocrat's room?”
There was no reply made to this, and although every one present, save Hervey, believed in Random's innocence, no one could explain. The reply came after some further conversation, by the appearance of the soldier himself in mess kit. He walked unexpectedly into the room with Donna Inez on his arm, and at once apologized to De Gayangos.
“I called to see you at the inn, sir,” he said, “and as you were not there, I brought your daughter along with me to explain about the manuscript.”
“Ah, yes. We talk of that now. How did it come into your room, sir?”
Random pointed to Hervey.
“That rascal placed it there,” he said firmly.
At this second insult Archie quite expected to see the skipper again draw his revolver and shoot. He therefore jumped up rapidly to once more avert disaster. But perhaps the fiery American was awed by the presence of a second lady—since men of the adventurous type are often shy when the fair sex is at hand—for he meekly sat where he was and did not even contradict. Don Pedro shook hands with Sir Frank, and then Hervey smiled blandly.
“I see you don't believe in my theory,” said he scoffingly.
“What theory is that?” asked Random hastily.
“Hervey declares that you murdered Bolton, stole the manuscript from him, and concealed it in your room,” said Archie succinctly.
“I can't suggest any other reason for its presence in the room,” observed the American with a grim smile. “If I'm wrong, perhaps this almighty aristocrat will correct me.”
Random was about to do so, and with some pardonable heat, when he was anticipated by Donna Inez. It has been mentioned before that this young lady was of the silent order. Usually she simply ornamented any company in which she found herself without troubling to entertain with her tongue. But the accusation against the baronet, whom she apparently loved, changed her into a voluble virago. Brushing aside the little Professor, who stood in her way, she launched herself forward and spoke at length. Hervey, cowering in the chair, thus met with an antagonist against whom he had no armor. He could not use force; she dominated him with her eye and when he ventured to open his mouth his few feeble words were speedily drowned by the torrent of speech which flowed from the lips of the Peruvian lady. Every one was as astonished by this outburst as though a dog had spoken. That the hitherto silent Donna Inez de Gayangos should speak thus freely and with such power was quite as great a miracle.
“You—are a dog and a liar,” said Donna Inez with great distinctness, and speaking English excellently. “What you say against Sir Frank is madness and foolish talk. In Genoa my father did not speak of the manuscript, nor did I, who tell you this. How, then, could Sir Frank kill this poor man, when he had no reason to slay him—”
“For the emeralds,” faltered Hervey weakly.
“For the emeralds!” echoed the lady scornfully. “Sir Frank is rich. He does not need to steal to have much money. He is a gentleman, who does not murder, as you have done.”
Hervey started to his feet, dismayed but defiant, and saw that he was ringed with unfriendly faces.
“As I have done. Why, I am—”
Donna Inez interrupted.
“You are a murderer. I truly believe that you—yes, that you” she pointed a scornful finger at him “killed this poor man who was bringing the mummy to the Professor. If you were in my own country, I should have you lashed like the dog you are. Pig of a Yankee, vile scum of the—”
“That will do, Inez,” said De Gayangos imperiously. “We wish to make this gentleman tell the truth, and this is not the way to go about the matter.”
“Gentleman,” echoed the angry Peruvian, “he is none. Truth! There is no truth in him, the pig of pigs!” and then, her English failing, she took refuge in Spanish, which is a fairly comprehensive language for swearing in a polite way. The words fairly poured from her mouth, and she looked as fierce as Bellona, the goddess of war.
Archie, listening to her words and watching her beautiful face distorted out of all loveliness, secretly congratulated himself upon the fact that he was not her prospective bridegroom. He wondered how Sir Frank, who was a mild, good-tempered man himself, could dare to make such a fiery female Lady Random.
Perhaps the young man thought himself that she was going a trifle too far, for he touched her nervously on the arm. At once the anger of Donna Inez died down, and she submitted to be led to a chair, whispering as she went, “It was for your sake, my angel, that I was angry,” she said, and then relapsed into silence, watching all future proceedings with flashing eyes but compressed mouth.
“Wal,” muttered Hervey with his invariable drawl, “now that the lady has eased her mind, I should like to know why this aristocrat says I placed that manuscript in his room.”
“You shall know, and at once,” said Random promptly. “Did you not call to see me a day or so ago?”
“I did, sir. I wished to tell you what I had discovered, so that you might pay me to shut my mouth if you felt so inclined. I asked where your room was, sir, and walked right in, since your flunky was not at the door.”
“Quite so. You were in my room for a few minutes—”
“Say five,” interpolated the American imperturbably.
“And then came down. You met my servant, who told you that I would not be back for five or six hours.”
“That's just as you state, sir. I was sorry to miss you, but, my time being valuable, I had to get back to Pierside. Failing you, I later came to see the Professor here, and told him what I had discovered.”
“You merely discovered a mare's nest,” said Random contemptuously; “but this is not the point. I believe that you, and you only, could have hidden that manuscript among my books, intending that it should be discovered, so that I might be implicated in this crime.”
“Did your flunky tell you that much?” inquired Hervey coolly.
“My servant told me nothing, save that you had been in my room, where you had no right to be.”
“Then,” said the American quietly and decisively, “I can't see, sir, how you can place the ticket on me.”
“You accuse me, so why should I not accuse you?” retorted Random.
“Because you are guilty, and I ain't,” snapped the American.
“You join issue: you join issue,” murmured Braddock, rubbing his hands.
Random took no notice of the interruption.
“I have heard from Mr. Hope and Professor Braddock of the grounds upon which you base your accusation, and I have explained to them how I came to be on board your ship and both in and out of the Sailor's Rest.”
“And the explanation is quite satisfactory,” said Hope smartly.
“I agree,” Donna Inez nodded with very bright eyes. “Sir Frank has explained to me also. He knew nothing of the manuscript.”
“And you, sir,” said Don Pedro quietly to Captain Hervey, “apparently did, since you stole it along with the mummy from Lima.”
“I confess the theft, but I didn't know what the manuscript contained,” said the skipper dryly, “or I reckon you wouldn't have to ask who stole the emeralds. No, sir, I should have looted them.”
“I believe you did, and murdered Bolton,” cried Random hotly.
“Shucks!” retorted Hervey, rising with a shrug, “if I had wished to get rid of Bolton, I'd have yanked him overboard and then would have written `accident' in my blamed log-book.”
Braddock looked at Don Pedro, and Archie at Sir Frank. What the skipper said was plausible enough. No man would have been such a fool as to have murdered Bolton ashore, when he could have done so without suspicion on board the tramp. Moreover, Hervey spoke with genuine regret, since he had missed the emeralds and assuredly would not have hesitated to steal them even at the cost of Bolton's life, had he known of their whereabouts. So far he had made a good defense, and, seeing the impression produced, he strolled to the door. There he halted.
“If you gents want to lynch me,” he said leisurely, “I'll be found at the Sailor's Rest for the next week. Then I'm going as skipper of The Firefly steamer, Port o' London, to Algiers. You can send the sheriff along whenever you choose. But I mean to have my picnic first, and to-morrow I'm going to Inspector Date with my yarn. Then I guess that almighty aristocrat wilt find himself in quod.”
“Wait a moment,” cried Braddock, running to the door. “Let me talk to you and arrange what is best to be done. If you will—”
He proceeded no further, for without vouchsafing him a reply, Hervey, now quite master of the situation, passed through the door, and the Professor hastily followed him. Those who remained looked at one another, scarcely knowing what to say, or how to act.
“They will arrest thee, my angel,” cried Donna Inez, clasping Random's arm.
“Let them,” retorted the young man defiantly. “They can prove nothing. With all my heart and soul I believe Hervey to be the guilty person. Hope, what do you say?—and you, Miss Kendal?”
“Hervey has certainly made an excellent defense,” said Archie cautiously. “He wouldn't have been such a fool as to murder Bolton ashore when he could have done it so easily when on the narrow seas.”
“I agree with you there,” said Random quickly. “But if he is innocent; if he did not bring the manuscript into my room, who did?”
“I wonder if Widow Anne herself is guilty?” said Lucy in a musing tone.
All present turned and looked at the girl.
“Who is Widow Anne?” asked Don Pedro with a puzzled air.
“She is the mother of Sidney Bolton, the man who was murdered,” said Hope quickly. “My dear Lucy, why do you say that?”
Lucy paused before replying and then answered the question by asking another one.
“Did you ask Sidney to get you some clothes from his mother to clothe a model?”
“Never in my life,” said Hope promptly, and, as Lucy, saw, truly.
“Well, I accidentally met Mrs. Bolton to-day, and she insisted that her son had borrowed from her a dark shawl and a dark dress for you.”
“That is not true,” said Hope hotly. “Why should the woman tell such a lie?”
“Well,” said Lucy slowly, “it struck me that the woman who spoke with Sidney through the Sailor's Rest window might be Widow Anne herself, and that she has invented this story of the clothes being lent to account for their being worn, should she be discovered.”
“It's certainly odd she should speak like this,” said Random thoughtfully; “but you forget, Miss Kendal, that she proved an alibi.”
“What of that?” cried Don Pedro hurriedly, “alibis can be manufactured.”
“It will be best to see this woman and question her,” suggested Donna Inez.
Archie nodded.
“I shall do so to-morrow. By the way, does she ever come to your room in the Fort, Random?”
“Oh yes, she is my laundress, you know, and at times brings back the clothes herself. My servant is usually in, though. I see what you mean. That she might have received the manuscript from Bolton, and have left it in my room.”
“Yes, I think that,” said Archie slowly. “I should not be at all surprised to learn that a portion of Hervey's theory is correct. Bolton may have found the manuscript packed up in the mummy, amongst the graveclothes, in fact. If he read it—as he would and could, seeing that he was an excellent Latin scholar, thanks to Professor Braddock's training—he might have formed a design to steal the emeralds when he was in the Sailor's Rest. Then someone saved him the trouble, and packed him off to Gartley instead of the mummy.”
“But why should Widow Anne leave the manuscript in my room?” argued Random.
“Can't you see? Bolton knew that you wanted the mummy for Don Pedro, and was aware how you had—so to speak—used threats in the presence of witnesses, since you spoke out aloud on the deck.”
“Only to warn Bolton against the Indians,” pleaded Random.
“Exactly; but your words were capable of being twisted as Hervey has twisted them. Well, if Widow Anne really went to see her son—and from the lie about the borrowed clothes it looks like it—he may have given her the manuscript, so as to throw the blame on you.”
“The murder?”
“No, no,” said Archie testily. “Bolton did not expect to be murdered. But I really believe that he intended to fly with the emeralds, and hoped that when the manuscript was found in your room you would be accused. The idea was suggested to him, I believe, by your visit to The Diver.”
“What do you think, Miss Kendal?” asked Random nervously.
“I fancy that it is possible.”
Sir Frank turned to the Peruvian.
“Don Pedro,” he said proudly, “you have heard what Hervey says; do you believe that I am guilty?”
For answer De Gayangos took his daughter's hand and placed it in that of the young soldier.
“That will show you what I think,” he said gravely.
“Thank you, sir,” said Random, moved, and shook his future father-in-law heartily by the hand, while Donna Inez, throwing all restraint to the winds, kissed her lover exultingly on the check. In the midst of this scene Professor Braddock returned, looking very pleased.
“I have induced Hervey to hold his tongue for a few days until we can look into this matter,” he said, rubbing his hands “that is, if you think it wise, all of you. Otherwise, I am quite willing to go myself to-morrow and tell the police.”
“No,” said Archie rapidly, “let us thresh out the matter ourselves. We will save Sir Frank's name from a police court slur at all events.”
“I do not think there is any chance of Sir Frank being arrested,” said Don Pedro politely; “the evidence is insufficient. And at the worst he can provide an alibi.”
“I am not so sure of that,” said Random anxiously. “I went to London certainly, but I did not go to any place where I am known. However,” he added cheerfully, “I daresay I'll be able to defend myself. Still, the fact remains that we are no nearer to learning who killed Bolton than we were.”
“I am sending Cockatoo to Pierside to-morrow to stop at the Sailor's Rest for a time,” said Braddock quickly. “He will watch Hervey, and if there is anything suspicious about his movements, we shall soon know.”
“And I turn amateur detective to-morrow and question Widow Anne,” said Hope, after which remark he had to explain matters to Braddock, who had been out of the room when Mrs. Bolton's strange request had been discussed.
Meanwhile Donna Inez had been whispering to her lover and pointing to the mummy. Don Pedro followed her thoughts and guessed what she was saying. Random proved the truth of his guess by, turning to him.
“Do you really want to take back the mummy to Peru, sir?” he asked quietly.
“Certainly. Inca Caxas was my forefather. I do not wish to leave him in this place. His body must be restored to its tomb. All the Indians, who look upon me as their present Inca expect me to bring the body back. Although,” added De Gayangos gravely, “I did not come to Europe to look for the mummy, as you know.”
“Then I shall buy the mummy,” said Random impetuously. “Professor, will you sell it to me?”
“Now that I have examined it thoroughly I shall be delighted,” said the little man, “say for two thousand pounds.”
“Not at all,” interposed Don Pedro; “you mean one thousand.”
“Of course he does,” said Lucy quickly; “and the check must be paid to Archie, Sir Frank.”
“To me! to me!” cried Braddock indignantly. “I insist.”
“The money belongs to Archie,” said Lucy obstinately. “You have seen what you desired to see, father and as Archie only lent you the money, it is only fair that he should have it again.”
“Oh, let the Professor have it,” said Hope good-naturedly.
“No! no! no!”
Random laughed.
“I shall make the check payable to you, Miss Kendal, and you can give it to whomsoever you choose,” he said; “and now, as everything has been settled so far, I suggest that we should retire.”
“Come to my rooms at the inn,” said Don Pedro, opening the door. “I have much to say to you. Good night, Professor; to-morrow let us go to Pierside and see if we cannot get at the truth.”
“And to-morrow,” cried Random, “I shall send the check, sir.”
When the company departed, Lucy had another wrangle with her father about the check. As Archie had gone away, she could speak freely, and pointed out that he was enjoying her mother's income and was about to marry Mrs. Jasher, who was rich.
“Therefore,” argued Lucy, “you certainly do not want to keep poor Archie's money.”
“He paid me that sum on condition that I consented to the wedding.”
“He did nothing of the sort,” she cried indignantly. “I am not going to be bought and sold in this manner. Archie lent you the money, and it must be returned. Don't force me to think you selfish, father.”
The upshot of the argument was that Lucy got her own way, and the Professor rather unwillingly agreed to part with the mummy and restore the thousand pounds. But he regretted doing so, as he wished to get all the money he could to go towards his proposed Egyptian expedition, and Mrs. Jasher's fortune, as he assured his step-daughter, was not so large as might be thought. However, Lucy overruled him, and retired to bed, congratulating herself that she would soon be able to marry Hope. She was beginning to grow a trifle weary of the Professor's selfish nature, and wondered how her mother had put up with it for so long.
Next day Braddock did not go with Don Pedro to Pierside, as he was very busy in his museum. The Peruvian went alone, and Archie, after a morning's work at his easel, sought out Widow Anne to ask questions. Lucy and Donna Inez paid an afternoon visit to Mrs. Jasher and found her in bed, as she had caught a mild sort of influenza. They expected to find Sir Frank here, but it seemed that he had not called. Thinking that he was detained by military business, the girls thought nothing more of his absence, although Donna Inez was somewhat downcast.
But Random was detained in his quarters by a letter which had arrived by the mid-day host, and which surprised him not a little. The postmark was London, and the writing, evidently a disguised hand, was almost illegible in its crudeness. The contents ran as follows, and it will be noticed that there is neither date nor address, and that it is written in the third person:
“If Sir Frank Random wants his character to be cleared and all suspicion of murder to be removed from him, he can be completely exonerated by the writer, if he will pay the same five thousand pounds. If Sir Frank Random is willing to do this, let him appoint a meeting-place in London, and the writer will send a messenger to receive the money and to hand over the proofs which will clear Sir Frank Random. If Sir Frank Random plays the writer false, or communicates with the police, proofs will be forthcoming which will prove him to be guilty of Sidney Bolton's death, and which will bring him to the scaffold without any chance of escape. A couple of lines in the Agony Column of The Daily Telegraph, signed `Artillery,' and appointing a meeting-place, will suffice; but beware of treachery.”