The Green Mummy
sex, he sauntered easily through life, very well contented with himself
and with his agreeable surroundings. He read fiction when he did read,
and those weekly papers devoted to sport; troubled his head very
little about politics, save when they had to do with a possible
German invasion, and was always ready to do any one a good turn. His
brother-officers declared that he was not half a bad sort, which was
high praise from the usually reticent service man. His capacity may be
accurately gauged by the fact that he did not possess a single enemy,
and that every one spoke well of him. A mortal who possesses no quality
likely to be envied by those around him is certain to belong to the rank
and file of humanity. But these unconsidered units of mankind can always
console themselves with the undoubted fact that mediocrity is invariably
happy.
Such a man as Random would never set the Thames on fire, and certainly
he had no ambition to perform that astounding feat. He was fond of his
profession and intended to remain in the army as long as he could. He
desired to marry and beget a family, and retire, when set free from
soldiering, to his country seat, and there perform blamelessly the
congenial role of a village squire, until called upon to join the
respectable corpses in the Random vault. Not that he was a saint or
ever could be one. Neither black nor white, he was simply gray, being an
ordinary mixture of good and bad. As theology has provided no hereafter
for gray people, it is hard to imagine where the bulk of humanity will
go. But doubts on this point never troubled Random. He went to church,
kept his mouth shut and his pores open and vaguely believed that it
would be all right somehow. A very comfortable if superficial philosophy
indeed.
It can easily be guessed that Random's somewhat colorless personality
would never attract Lucy Kendal, since the hues of her own character
were deeper. For this reason she was drawn to Hope, who possessed that
aggressive artistic temperament, where good and bad, are in violent
contrast. Random took opinions from books, or from other people, and
his mind, like a looking-glass, reflected whatever came along; but Hope
possessed opinions of his own, both right and wrong, and held to these
in the face of all verbal opposition. He could argue and did argue, when
Random simply agreed. Lucy had similar idiosyncrasies, inherited from
a clever father, so it was just as well that she preferred Archie
to Frank. Had the latter young gentleman married her, he would have
dwindled to Lady Random's husband, and would have found too late that he
had domesticated a kind of imitation George Eliot. When he congratulated
Archie on his engagement somewhat ruefully, he little thought what an
escape he had had.
But Professor Braddock, who did not belong to the gray tribe, knew
nothing of this, as his Egyptological studies did not permit him time to
argue on such commonplace matters. He therefore failed in advance when
he set out to persuade Random into renewing his suit. As the fiery
little man afterwards expressed himself, “I might as well have talked to
a mollusc,” for Random politely declined to be used as an instrument
to forward the Professor's ambition at the cost of Miss Kendal's
unhappiness. The interview took place in Sir Frank's quarters at the
Fort on the day after Hervey had called to propose a search for the
corpse. And it was during this interview that Braddock learned something
which both startled and annoyed him.
Random, at three o'clock, had just changed into mufti, when the
Professor was announced by his servant. Braddock, determined to give his
host no chance of denying himself, followed close on the man's heels,
and was in the room almost before Sir Frank had read the card. It was
a bare room, sparsely furnished, according to the War Office's idea
of comfort, and although the baronet had added a few more civilized
necessities, it still looked somewhat dismal. Braddock, who liked
comfort, shook hands carelessly with his host and cast a disapproving
eye on his surroundings.
“Dog kennel! dog kennel!” grumbled the polite Professor. “Bare
desolation like a damned dungeon. You might as well live in the Sahara.”
“It would certainly be warmer,” replied Random, who knew the scientist's
snappy ways very well. “Take a chair, sir!”
“Hard as bricks, confound it! Hand me over a cushion. There, that's
better! No, I never drink between meals, thank you. Smoke? Hang it,
Random, you should know by this time that I dislike making a chimney of
my throat! There! there! don't fuss. Take a seat and listen to what I
have to say. It's important. Poke the fire, please: it's cold.”
Random placidly did as he was told, and then lighted a cigar, as he sat
down quietly.
“I am sorry to hear of your trouble, sir.'”
“Trouble! trouble! What particular trouble?”
“The death of your assistant.”
“Oh yes. Silly young ass to get killed. Lost my mummy, too: there's
trouble if you like.”
“The green mummy.” Random looked into the fire, “Yes. I have heard of
the green mummy.”
“I should think you have,” snapped Braddock, warming his plump hands.
“Every penny-a-liner has been talking about it. When did you return?”
“On the same day that that steamer with the mummy on board arrived,” was
Random's odd reply.
The Professor stared suspiciously. “I don't see why you should date your
movements by my mummy,” he retorted.
“Well, I had a reason in doing so.”
“What reason?”
“The mummy--”
“What about it?--do you know where it is?” Braddock started to his feet,
and looked eagerly at the calm face of his host.
“No, I wish I did. How much did you pay for it, Professor?”
“What's that to you?” snapped the other, resuming his seat.
“Nothing at all. But it is a great deal to Don Pedro de Gayangos.”
“And who the deuce is he? Some Spanish Egyptologist?”
“I don't think he is an Egyptologist, sir.”
“He must be, if he wants my mummy.”
“You forget, Professor, that the green mummy comes from Peru.”
“Who denied that it did, sir? You are illogical--infernally so.” The
little man rose and straddled on the hearth-rug, with his back to the
fire and his hands under his coat-tails. “Now, sir,” he said, glaring
at the young man like a school-master--“what the deuce are you talking
about? Out with it: no evasion.”
“Oh, hang it, Professor, don't jump down my throat, spurs and all,” said
Random, rather annoyed by this dictatorial tone.
“I never wear spurs: go on, sir, and don't argue.”
Sir Frank could not help laughing, although he knew that it was useless
to induce Braddock to be civil. Not that the Professor, meant to be
rude, especially as he desired to conciliate Random. But long years of
fighting with other scientists and of having his own scientific way had
turned him into a kind of school-master, and every one knows that they
are the most domineering of the human race.
“It's a long story,” said the baronet, with a shrug and a smile.
“Story! story! What story?”
“'That which I am about to tell you.” And then
Random began hurriedly, so as to prevent further arguments of an
unprofitable kind. “I was at Genoa with my yacht, and there stopped on
shore at the Casa Bianca.”
“What place is that?”
“An hotel. I there met with a certain Don Pedro de Gayangos and his
daughter, Donna Inez, He was a gentleman from Lima, and had come to
Europe in search of the green mummy.”
Braddock stared.
“And what did this confounded Spaniard want with my green mummy?” he
demanded indignantly. “How did he know of its existence?--what reason
had he to try and obtain it? Answer, sir.”
“I shall let Don Pedro answer himself,” said Random dryly. “He arrives
in a couple of days, and intends to take rooms at the Warrior Inn along
with his daughter. Then you can question him, Professor.”
“I question you,” snapped Braddock angrily.
“And I am answering to the best of my ability. Don Pedro told me nothing
beyond the fact that he wanted the mummy, and had come to Europe to get
it. In some way he learned that it was in Malta and was for sale.”
“Quite so: quite so,” rasped the Professor. “He saw the advertisement in
the newspapers, as I did, and wanted to buy it over my head.”
“Oh, he wanted to buy it right enough, and wired to Malta,” said Random,
“but in reply he received a letter stating that it had been sold to you
and was being taken to England on The Diver. I followed The Diver in my
yacht and arrived at Pierside an hour after she did.”
“Ah!” Braddock glared. “I begin to see light. This infernal Spaniard was
on board, and wanted my mummy. He knew that Bolton had taken it to the
Sailor's Rest and went there to kill the poor lad and get my--”
“Nothing of the sort,” interrupted Sir Frank impatiently. “Don Pedro
remained behind in Genoa, intending to write and ask if you would sell
him the mummy. I wrote and told him of the murder of your assistant
and related all that had happened. He wired to me that he was coming to
England at once, as--as I told you. He will be in Gartley in a couple of
days. That is the whole story.”
“It is a sufficiently strange one,” grumbled Braddock, frowning. “What
does he want with my mummy?”
“I cannot tell you. But if you will sell--”
“Sell! sell! sell!” vociferated Braddock furiously.
“Don Pedro will give you a good price,” finished Random calmly.
“I haven't got the mummy,” said the Professor, sitting down and wiping
his pink head, “and if I had, I certainly would not sell. However, I'll
hear what this gentleman has to say when he arrives. Perhaps he can
throw some light on the mystery of this crime.”
“I am perfectly certain that he cannot, sir. Don Pedro--as I said--was
left behind in Genoa.”
“Humph!” said the Professor, unconvinced. “He could easily employ a
third party.”
Random rose, looking and feeling annoyed.
“I assure you that Don Pedro is a gentleman and a man of honor. He would
not stoop to--”
“There! there!” Braddock waved his hands. “Sit down: sit down.”
“You shouldn't say such things, Professor.”
“I say what I desire to say,” retorted the old gentleman tartly; “but we
can dismiss the subject for the time being.”
“I am only too glad to do so,” said Random, who was ruffled out of his
usual calm by the veiled accusation which Braddock had brought against
his foreign friend, “and to get to a more agreeable subject, tell me how
Miss Kendal is keeping.”
“She is ill, very ill,” said the Professor solemnly.
“Ill? Why, Hope, whom I met the other day, said that she was feeling
very well and very happy.”
“So Hope thinks, because he has forced her into an engagement.”
Random started to his feet.
“Forced her? Nonsense!”
“It isn't nonsense, and don't dare to speak like that to me, sir. I
repeat that Lucy--poor child--is breaking her heart for you.”
The young man stared and then broke into a hearty laugh.
“Pardon me, sir, but that is impossible.”
“It isn't, confound you!” said Braddock, who did not like being laughed
at. “I know women.”
“You don't know your daughter.”
“Step-daughter, you mean.”
“Ah, perhaps the more distant relationship accounts for your ignorance
of her character,” said Random dryly. “You are quite wrong. I was in
love with Miss Kendal, and asked her to be my wife before I went on
leave. She refused me, saying that she loved Hope, and because of her
refusal I took my broken heart to Monte Carlo, where I lost much more
money than I had any right to lose.”
“Your broken heart seems to have mended quickly,” said Braddock, who was
trying to suppress his wrath at this instance of Lucy's duplicity, for
so he considered it.
“Oh, pooh, it's only my way of speaking,” laughed the young man. “If my
heart had been really broken I should not have mentioned the fact.”