The Green Mummy
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.
CHAPTER XX. THE LETTER
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