The Green Mummy
“No, the whole thing is a mystery.”
Mrs. Jasher looked into the fire over the top of the fan.
“I have read the papers,” she said slowly, “and have gathered what I
could from what the reporters explained. But I intend to call on the
Professor and hear all that evidence which did not get into the papers.”
“I think that everything has been made public. The police have no clue
to the murderer. Why do you want to know?”
Mrs. Jasher made a movement of surprise.
“Why, I am the Professor's friend, of course, my dear, and naturally I
want to help him to solve this mystery.”
“There is no chance, so far as I can see, of it ever being solved,” said
Lucy. “It's very sweet of you, of course, but were I you I should not
talk about it to my father.”
“Why?” asked Mrs. Jasher quickly.
“Because he thinks of nothing else, and both Archie and I are trying to
get him off the subject. The mummy is lost and poor Sidney is buried.
There is no more to be said.”
“Still, if a reward was offered--”
“My father is too poor to offer a reward, and the Government will not do
so. And as people will not work without money, why--” Lucy completed her
sentence with a shrug.
“I might offer a reward if the dear Professor will let me,” said the
widow unexpectedly.
“You! But I thought that you were poor, as we are.”
“I was, and I am not very rich now. All the same, I have come in for
some thousands of pounds.”
“I congratulate you. A legacy?”
“Yes. You remember how I told you about my brother who was a Pekin
merchant. He is dead.”
“Oh, I am so sorry.”
“My dear, what is the use of being sorry. I never cry over spilt milk,
or assume a virtue which I have not. My brother and I were almost
strangers, as we lived apart for so many years. However, he came home to
die at Brighton, and a few weeks ago--just after this murder took place,
in fact--I was summoned to his death-bed. He lingered on until last week
and died in my arms. He left me nearly all his money, so I will be able
to help the Professor.”
“I don't see why you should,” said Lucy, wondering why Mrs. Jasher did
not wear mourning for the dead.
“Oh yes, you do see,” remarked the widow, raising her eyes and rubbing
her plump hands together. “I want to marry your father.”
Lucy did not express astonishment, as she had understood this for a long
time.
“I guessed as much.”
“And what do you say?”
Miss Kendal shrugged her shoulders.
“If my step-father,” she emphasized the word--“if my step-father
consents, why should I mind? I am going to marry Archie, and no doubt
the Professor will be lonely.”
“Then you do not disapprove of me as a mother.”
“My dear Mrs. Jasher,” said Lucy, coldly, “there is no relationship
between me and my step-father beyond the fact that he married my
mother. Therefore you can never be my mother. Were I stopping on at the
Pyramids, that question might arise, but as I become Mrs. Hope in six
months, we can be friends--nothing more.”
“I am quite content with that,” said Mrs. Jasher in a businesslike way.
“After all, I am no sentimentalist. But I am glad that you do not mind
my marrying the Professor, as I don't want you to prevent the match, my
dear.”
Lucy laughed.
“I assure you that I have no influence with my father, Mrs. Jasher. He
will marry you if he thinks fit and without consulting me. But,” added
the girl with emphasis, “I do not see what you gain in becoming Mrs.
Braddock.”
“I may become Lady Braddock,” said the widow, dryly. Then, in answer to
the open astonishment on Lucy's face, she hastened to remark: “Do you
mean to say that you don't know your father is heir to a baronetcy?”
“Oh, I know that,” rejoined Miss Kendal. “The Professor's brother, Sir
Donald Braddock, is an old man and unmarried. If he dies without heirs,
as it seems likely, the Professor will certainly take the title.”
“Well, then, there you are!” cried Mrs. Jasher, in her liveliest tone.
“I want to give my legacy for the title and preside over a scientific
salon in London.”
“I understand. But you will never get my father to live in London.”
“Wait until I marry him,” said the little woman shrewdly. “I'll make a
man of him. I know, of course, that mummies and sepulchral ornaments and
those sort of horrid things are dull, but the Professor will become Sir
Julian Braddock, and that is enough for me. I don't love him, of course,
as love between two elderly people is absurd, but I shall make him a
good wife, and with my money he can take his proper position in the
scientific world, which he doesn't occupy at present. I would rather he
had been artistic, as science is so dull. However, I am getting on in
years and wish to have some amusement before I die, so I must take what
I can get. What do you say?”
“I am quite agreeable, as, when I leave, someone must look after my
father, else he will be shamefully robbed by everyone in household
matters. We are good friends, so why not you as well as another.”
“You are a dear girl,” said Mrs. Jasher with a sigh of relief, and
kissed Lucy fondly. “I am sure we shall get on excellently.”
“At a distance. The artistic world doesn't touch on the scientific, you
know. And you forget, Mrs. Jasher, that my father wishes to go to Egypt
to explore this mysterious tomb.”
Mrs. Jasher nodded.
“Yes, I promised, when I came in for my brother's money, to help the
Professor to fit out his expedition. But it seems to me that the money
will be better spent in offering a reward so that the mummy can be
found.”
“Well,” said Lucy, laughing, “you can give the Professor his choice.”
“Before marriage, not after. He needs to be managed, like all men.”
“You will not find him easy to manage,” said Lucy dryly. “He is a very
obstinate man, and quite feminine in his persistency.”
“H'm! I recognize that he is a difficult character, and between you and
me dear, I should not marry him but for the title. It sounds rather like
an adventuress talking in this way, but, after all, if he makes me Lady
Braddock I can give him enough money to let him realize his desire of
getting the mummy back. It's six of one and half a dozen of the other.
And I'll be good to him: you need not fear.”
“I am quite sure that, good or bad, the Professor will have his own way.
It is not his happiness I am thinking of so much as yours.”
“Really. Here is the tea. Put the table near the fire, Jane, between
Miss Kendal and myself. Thank you. The muffins on the fender. Thank you.
No, there is nothing more. Close the door when you go out.”
The tea equippage having been arranged, Mrs. Jasher poured out a cup
of Souchong, and handed it to her guest, resuming the subject of her
proposed marriage meanwhile.
“I don't see why you should be anxious about me, dear. I am quite
able to look after myself. And the Professor seems to be kind-hearted
enough.”
“Oh, he is kind-hearted when he gets his own way. Give him his hobby and
he will never bother you. But he won't live in London, and he will not
consent to this salon you wish to institute.”
“Why not? It means fame to him. I shall gather round me all the
scientists of London and make my house a centre of interest. The
Professor can stop in his laboratory if he likes. As his wife, I can
do all that is necessary. Well, my dear”--Mrs. Jasher took a cup of
tea--“we need not talk the subject threadbare. You do not disapprove of
my marriage with your step-father, so you can leave the rest to me. If
you can give me a hint of how to proceed to bring about this marriage,
of course I am not above taking it.”
Lucy glanced at the tea-gown.
“As you will have to tell the Professor that your brother is dead to
account for possessing the money,” she said pointedly, “I should advise
you to go into mourning. Professor Braddock will be shocked otherwise.”
“Dear me, what a tender heart he must have!” said Mrs. Jasher
flippantly. “My brother was very little to me, poor man, so he cannot
be anything to the Professor. However, I shall adopt your advice, and,
after all, black suits me very well. There”--she swept her hands across
the tea-table--“that is settled. Now about yourself?”
“Archie and I marry in the springtime.”
“And your other admirer, who has come back?”
“Sir Frank Random?” said Lucy, coloring.
“Of course. He called to see me a day or so ago, and seems less
broken-hearted than he should be.”
Lucy nodded and colored still deeper.
“I suppose some other woman has consoled him.”
“Of course. Catch a modern man wearing the willow for any girl, however
dear. Are you angry?”
“Oh no, no.”
“Oh yes, yes, I think,” said the widow, laughing, “else you are no
woman, my dear. I know I should be angry to see a man get over his
rejection so rapidly.”
“Who is she?” asked Lucy abruptly.
“Donna Inez de Gayangos.”
“A Spaniard?”
“I believe so--a colonial Spaniard, at least--from Lima. Her father, Don
Pedro de Gayangos, met Sir Frank in Genoa by chance.”
“Well?” demanded Lucy impatiently.
Mrs. Jasher shrugged her plump shoulders.
“Well, my dear, can't you put two and two together. Of course Sir Frank
fell in love with this dark-hued angel.”
“Dark-hued! and I am light-haired. What a compliment!”
“Perhaps Sir Frank wanted a change. He played on white and lost, and
therefore stakes his money on black to win. That's the result of having
been at Monte Carlo. Besides, this young lady is rich, I understand, and
Sir Frank--so he told me--lost much more money at Monte Carlo than he
could afford. Well, you don't look pleased.”
Lucy roused herself from a fit of abstraction.
“Oh yes, I am pleased, of course. I suppose, as any woman would, I felt
rather hurt for the moment in being forgotten so soon. But, after all,
I can't blame Sir Frank for consoling himself. If I am married first,
he shall dance at my wedding: if he is married first, I shall dance at
his.”
“And you shall both dance at mine,” said Mrs. Jasher. “Why, there is
quite an epidemic of matrimony. Well, Donna Inez arrives here with her
father in a day, or so. They stop at the Warrior Inn, I believe.”
“That horrid place?”
“Oh, it is clean and respectable. Besides, Sir Frank can hardly ask
them to stop in the Fort, and I have no room in this bandbox of mine.
However, the two of them--Donna Inez and Frank, I mean--can come here
and flirt; so can you and Archie if you like.”
“I fear four people in this room would not do,” laughed Lucy, rising to
take her leave. “Well, I hope Sir Frank will marry this lady and that
you will become Mrs. Braddock. Only one thing I should like to know.”
“And that is?”
“Why was the mummy stolen. It was not valuable save to a scientist.”
“By that argument a scientist must be the murderer and thief,” said Mrs.
Jasher. “However, we shall see. Meanwhile, live every moment of love's
golden hours: they never return.”
“That is good advice; I shall take it and my leave,” said Lucy, and
departed in a very happy frame of mind.
CHAPTER X. THE DON AND HIS DAUGHTER
Professor Braddock was usually the most methodical of men, and timed his
life by the clock and the almanac. He rose at seven, summer and winter,
to partake of a hearty breakfast, which served him until dinner came at
five thirty. Braddock dined at this unusual hour--save when there was
company--as he did not eat any luncheon and scorned the very idea of
afternoon tea. Two meals a day, he maintained, was enough for any man
who led a sedentary life, as too much food was apt to clog the wheels of
the intellect. He usually worked in his museum--if the indulgence of his
hobby could be called work--from nine until four, after which hour he
took a short walk in the garden or through the village. On finishing his
dinner he would glance over some scientific publication, or perhaps,