The Green Mummy
“Then you did not love Lucy, and you dared to play fast and loose with
her affections,” raged Braddock, stamping.
“You are quite wrong,” said Sir Frank sharply; “I did love Miss Kendal,
or I should certainly not have asked her to be my wife. But when she
told me that she loved another man, I stood aside as any fellow would.”
“You should have insisted on--”
“On nothing, sir. I am not the man to force a woman to give me a heart
which belongs to another person. I am very glad that Miss Kendal is
engaged to Hope, as he is a capital fellow, and will make her a better
husband than I ever could have made her. Besides,” Random shrugged his
shoulders, “one nail drives another out.”
“Humph! That means you love another.”
“I am not bound to tell you my private affairs, Professor.”
“Quite so: quite so; but Inez is a pretty and romantic name.”
“I don't know what you are talking about, sir,” said Random stiffly.
Braddock chuckled, having read the truth in the flush which had crept
over Random's tanned face.
“I ask your pardon,” he said elaborately. “I am an old man, and I
was your father's friend. You must not mind if I have been a trifle
inquisitive.”
“Say no more, sir: that is all right.”
“I don't agree with you, Random. Things are not all right and never will
be until my mummy is discovered. Now you can help me.”
“In what way?” asked the other uneasily.
“With money. Understand, my boy,” added the Professor in a genial way
which he knew well how to assume, “I should have preferred Lucy becoming
your wife. However, since she prefers Hope, there's no more to be said
on that score. I therefore will not make the offer I came here to make.”
“An offer, sir?”
“Yes! I fancied that you loved Lucy and were broken-hearted by the news
of her engagement to Hope. I therefore intended to ask you to give me,
or rather lend me, five hundred pounds on condition that I helped you
to--”
“Stop, Professor,” said Random, coloring, “I should never have bought
Miss Kendal as my wife on those terms.”
“Of course! of course! and--as I say--there is no more to be said. I
shall therefore agree to Lucy's engagement to Hope”--Braddock carefully
omitted to say that he had already agreed and had been paid one thousand
pounds to agree--“and will congratulate you when you lead Donna Inez to
the altar.”
“I never said anything about Donna Inez, Professor Braddock.”
“Of course not: modern reticence. However, I can see through a brick
wall as well as most people. I understand, so let us drop the subject,
my boy. And this five hundred pounds--”
“I cannot lend it to you, Professor. The fact is, I lost heaps of coin
at Monte Carlo, and am not in a position to--”
“Very good, let us shelve that also,” said Braddock with apparent
heartiness, although he was really very angry at his failure. “I am
sorry, though, as I wish to get back the mummy and to revenge poor
Sidney Bolton's death.”
“How can the five hundred do that?” asked Random with interest.
“Well,” drawled the Professor with his eyes on the young man's attentive
face, “Captain Hervey of The Diver came to me yesterday and proposed
to search for the assassin and his plunder on condition that I paid him
five hundred pounds. I am, as you know, very poor for a scientist,
and so I wished to borrow the five hundred from you on condition that
Lucy--”
“We won't talk of that again,” said Random hurriedly; “but do you mean
to say that this Captain Hervey knows of anything likely to solve this
mystery?”
“He says that he does not, and merely proposes to search. From what I
have seen of the man I should think that he had all the capacities of a
good bloodhound and would certainly succeed. But he will not move a step
without money.”
“Five hundred pounds,” murmured Random thoughtfully, while the Professor
watched him closely. “I can tell you how to obtain it.”
“How? In what way?”
“Don Pedro seems to be rich, and he wants the mummy,” said the baronet.
“So when he comes here ask him to--”
“Certainly not: certainly not,” raged Braddock, clapping on his hat in
a fury. “How dare you make such a proposition to me, Random! If this Don
Pedro offers the reward and Hervey finds the mummy, he will simply hand
it over to your friend.”
“He can scarcely do that, since you have bought the mummy. But Don Pedro
is willing to purchase it from you.”
“Humph!” Braddock moved to the door, thinking. “I shall reserve my
decision until this man arrives. Good day,” and he departed.
Random did not attempt to detain him, as he was somewhat weary of the
Professor's vagaries. He knew very well that Braddock would call on
Don Pedro when he came to the Warrior Inn, and join forces with him in
searching for the lost goods. And the train of thought initiated by the
Professor's visit led Random to a certain drawer, whence he took the
photograph of a splendid-looking beauty. To this he pressed his lips. “I
wonder if your father will give you to me in exchange for that mummy,”
he thought, and kissed the pictured face again.
CHAPTER IX. MRS. JASHER'S LUCK'
Some weeks had now elapsed since the death and burial of Sidney Bolton,
and the excitement had simmered down to a gentle speculation as to who
had killed him. This question was discussed in a half-hearted manner
round the winter fires of Gartley, but gradually people were ceasing to
interest themselves in a crime, the mystery of which would apparently
never be solved. Life went on in the village and at the Pyramids much
in the same way, save that the Professor attended along with Cockatoo to
his museum and did not engage another assistant.
Archie and Lucy were perfectly happy, as they looked forward to being
married in the spring, and Braddock showed no desire to interfere with
their engagement. They knew, of course, that he had called upon Sir
Frank, but were ignorant of what had taken place. Random himself called
at the Pyramids to congratulate Miss Kendal on her engagement, and
seemed so very pleased that she was going to marry the man of her
choice, that, woman-like, she grew rather annoyed. As the baronet had
been her lover, she thought that he should wear the willow for her
sake. But Random showed no disposition to do so, therefore Lucy shrewdly
guessed that his broken heart had been mended by another woman. The
Professor could have confirmed the truth of this from the hints which
Random had given him, but he said nothing about his interview with the
young man, nor did he mention that a Spanish gentleman from Peru was
seeking for the famous green mummy.
Considerably vexed that Random should be so cheerful, Lucy cast round to
learn the truth. She could scarcely ask the baronet himself, and Archie
professed himself unable to explain. Miss Kendal did not dream of
cross-examining Braddock, as it never entered her mind that the
dry-as-dust scientist would know anything. It then occurred to this
inquisitive young lady that Mrs. Jasher might be aware of Random's
secret, which made him so cheerful. Sir Frank was a great friend of
the plump widow, and frequently went to take afternoon tea at her small
house, which was situated no great distance from the Fort. In fact,
Mrs. Jasher entertained the officers largely, as she was hospitable
by nature, and liked to have presentable men about her for flirting
purposes. With good-looking youth she assumed the maternal air, and in
the role of a clever woman of the world professed to be the adviser of
one and all. In this way she became quite a favorite, and her little
parlor--she liked the old English word--was usually, well filled at the
hour of afternoon tea.
Twice already Lucy had called on Mrs. Jasher after the commotion caused
by the crime, as she wished to speak to her about the same; but on each
occasion the widow proved to be absent in London. However, the third
visit proved to be more lucky, for Mrs. Jasher was at home, and
expressed herself happy to see the girl.
“So good of you to come and see me in my little wooden hut,” said the
widow, kissing her guest.
And Mrs. Jasher's cottage really was a little wooden hut, being what was
left of an old-fashioned farmhouse, built before the stone age. It lay
on the verge of the marshes in an isolated position and was placed in
the middle of a square garden, protected from the winter floods by a low
stone wall solidly built, but of no great height. The road to the Fort
ran past the front part of the garden, but behind the marshes spread
towards the embankment, which cut off the view of the Thames. The
situation was not an ideal one, nor was the cottage, but money was
scarce with Mrs. Jasher, and she had obtained the whole place at a
surprisingly small rental. The house and grounds were dry enough in
summer, but decidedly damp in winter. Therefore, the widow went to a
flat in London, as a rule, for the season of fogs. But this winter she
had made up her mind--so she told Lucy--to remain in her own little
castle and brave the watery humors of the marshes.
“I can always keep fires burning in every room,” said Mrs. Jasher, when
she had removed her guest's hat and had settled her for a confidential
talk on the sofa. “And after all, my dear, there is no place like home.”
The room was small, and Mrs. Jasher was small, so she suited her
surroundings excellently. Also, the widow had the good taste to furnish
it sparsely, instead of crowding it with furniture; but what furniture
there was could not be improved upon. There were Chippendale chairs,
a Louis Quinze table, a Sheridan cabinet, and a satin-wood desk,
hand-painted, which was said to have been the property of the unhappy
Marie Antoinette. Oil-paintings adorned the rose-tinted walls, chiefly
landscapes, although one or two were portraits. Also, there were
water-colored pictures, framed and signed caricatures, many plates
of old china, and rice-paper adornments from Canton. The room was
essentially feminine, being filled with Indian stuffs, with silver
oddments, with flowers, and with other trifles. The walls, the carpet,
the hangings, and the upholstery of the arm-chairs were all of a rosy
hue, so that Mrs. Jasher looked as young as Dame Holda in the Venusberg.
A very pretty room and a very charming hostess, was the verdict of the
young gentlemen from the Fort, who came here to flirt when they were not
serving their country.
Mrs. Jasher in a tea-rose tea-gown for afternoon tea--she always liked
to be in keeping--rang for that beverage dear to the feminine heart, and
lighted a rose-shaded lamp. When a glow as of dawn spread through the
dainty room, she settled Lucy on the sofa near the fire, and drew up an
arm-chair on the other side of the hearth-rug. Outside it was cold and
foggy, but the rose-hued curtains shut out all that was disagreeable in
the weather, and in the absence of male society, the two women talked
more or less confidentially. Lucy did not dislike Mrs. Jasher, even
though she fancied that the lively widow was planning to become the
mistress of the Pyramids.
“Well, my dear girl,” said Mrs. Jasher, shading her face from the fire
with a large fan, “and how is your dear father after his late terrible
experiences?”
“He is perfectly well, and rather cross,” replied Lucy, smiling.
“Cross?”
“Of course. He has lost that wretched mummy.”
“And poor Sidney Bolton.”
“Oh, I don't think he cares for poor Sidney's death beyond the fact
that he misses his services. But the mummy cost nine hundred pounds, and
father is much annoyed, especially as Peruvian mummies are somewhat hard
to obtain. You see, Mrs. Jasher, father wishes to see the difference
between the Peruvian and Egyptian modes of embalming.”
“Ugh! How gruesome!” Mrs. Jasher shuddered. “But has anything been
discovered likely to show who killed this poor lad?”