The Green Mummy
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.
CHAPTER XIX. NEARER THE TRUTH
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?”