The Green Mummy
Sir Frank laughed, as, aided by the artist, he struggled into his
military greatcoat.
“I don't suppose that Mrs. Jasher will be dangerous,” he remarked.
“We'll get what we can out of her, and then arrange what is best to be
done to recoup her fallen fortunes. Then she can go where she chooses,
and we can,--as the French say--return to our muttons.”
“I think Donna Inez and Lucy would be annoyed to hear themselves called
muttons,” laughed Archie, and the two men left the room.
The night was darker than ever, and a fine rain was falling incessantly.
When they left the dimly lighted archway of the fort through the
smaller, gate set in the larger one they stepped into midnight blackness
such as must have been spread over the land of Egypt. In accordance
with the primitive customs of Gartley inhabitants, one of them at least
should have been furnished with a lantern, as it was no easy task
to pick a clean way through the mud.---However, Archie, knowing the
surroundings better even than Random, led the way, and they walked
slowly through the iron gate on the hard high road which led to the
Fort. Immediately beyond this they turned towards the narrow cinder path
which led through the marshes to Mrs. Jasher's cottage, and toiled on
cautiously through the misty rain, which fell continuously. The fog was
drifting up from the mouth of the river and was growing so thick that
they could not see the somewhat feeble lights of the cottage. However,
Archie's instincts led him aright, and they blundered finally upon the
wooden gate. Here they paused in shocked surprise, for a woman's scream
rang out wildly and suddenly.
“What, in heaven's name, is that?” asked Hope, aghast.
“We must find out,” breathed Random, and raced through the white
cotton-wool of the fog up the path. As he reached the veranda the door
opened and a woman came running out screaming. But other screams inside
the cottage still continued.
“What is the matter?” cried Random, seizing the woman.
She proved to be Jane.
“Oh, sir, my mistress is being murdered--”
Hope plunged past her into the corridor, not waiting to hear more. The
cries had died down to a low moaning, and he dashed into the pink parlor
to find it in smoky darkness. Striking a match, he held it above his
head. It showed Mrs. Jasher prone on the floor, and a dark figure
smashing its way through the flimsy window. There was a snarl and the
figure vanished as the match went out.
CHAPTER XXIV. A CONFESSION
Jane was still being held by Sir Frank at the floor, and was still
screaming, fully convinced that her captor was a burglar, in spite of
having recognized him by his voice. Random was so exasperated by her
stupidity that he shook her.
“What is the matter, you fool?” he demanded. “Don't you know that I am a
friend?”
“Y-e-s, s-i-r,” gasped Jane, fetching her breath again after the
shaking; “but go for the police. My mistress is being murdered.”
“Mr. Hope is looking after that, and the screams have ceased. Who was
with your mistress?”
“I don't know, sir,” sobbed the servant. “I didn't know anyone had
called, and then I heard the screaming. I looked into the parlor to see
what was the matter, but the lamp had been thrown over and had gone
out, and there was a dreadful struggle going on in the darkness, so I
screamed and ran out and then I--oh--oh” Jane showed symptoms of renewed
hysteria, and clutched Random tightly, as a man came cautiously round
the corner.
“Are you there, Random?” asked Hope's voice.
“It's so infernally dark and foggy that I have missed him.”
“Missed who?”
“The man who was trying to murder Mrs. Jasher, He got her down when I
entered and struck a match. Then he dashed through the window before I
could catch him or even recognize him. He's vanished in the mist.”
“It's no use looking for him anyhow,” said Random, peering into the
dense blackness, which was thick with damp. “We had better see after
Mrs. Jasher.”
“Whom have you got there?”
“Jane--who seems to have lost her head.”
“It's a mercy I haven't lost my life, sir, with burglars and murderers
all about the place,” sobbed the girl, dropping on to the veranda.
Random promptly hauled her to her feet.
“Go and get a candle, and keep calm if you can,” he said in an abrupt
military voice. “This is no time to play the fool.”
His sharpness had great effect on the girl, and she became much more her
usual self. Hope lighted another match, and the trio proceeded through
the passage towards the kitchen, where Jane had left a lamp burning.
Seizing this from its bracket, Sir Frank retraced his way along the
passage to the pink parlor, followed closely by Hope and timorously
by Jane. A dreadful scene presented itself. The dainty little room
was literally smashed to pieces, as though a gigantic bull had been
wallowing therein. The lamp lay on the floor, surrounded by several
extinguished candles. It was a mercy that all the lights had been put
out when overturned, else the gim-crack cottage would have been long
since in a blaze. Chairs and tables and screens were also overturned,
and the one window had its rose-hued curtains torn down and its glass
broken, showing only too clearly the way in which the murderer had
escaped. And that the man who had attacked Mrs. Jasher was a murderer
could be seen from the stream of blood that ran slowly from Mrs.
Jasher's breast. Apparently she had been stabbed in the lungs, for the
wound was on the right side. There she lay, poor woman, in her tawdry
finery, crumpled up, battered and bruised, dead amongst the ruins of her
home. Jane immediately began to scream again.
“Stop her, Hope,” cried Random, who was kneeling by the body and feeling
the heart. “Mrs. Jasher is not dead. Hold your noise, woman, and go
for a doctor.” This was to Jane, who, prevented from screaming, took to
whimpering.
“I had better go,” said Hope quickly; “and I'll go to the Fort and alarm
the men. Perhaps they may catch the man.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Of course not,” said Archie indignantly. “I only caught a glimpse of
him by the feeble light of a lucifer match. Then he leaped through the
window and I after him. I made a grab at him, but lost him in the mist.
I don't know in the least what he is like.”
“Then how can anyone arrest him?” snapped Random, raising Mrs. Jasher's
head. “Give what alarm you like, but race for Robinson up the village.
We must save this poor woman's life, if only to learn who killed her.”
“But she isn't dead yet--she isn't dead yet,” wailed Jane, clapping her
hands, while Hope, knowing the value of time, promptly ran out of the
house to get further assistance.
“She soon will be,” said Sir Frank, whose temper was not of the best at
so critical a moment in dealing with a fool. “Go and bring me brandy at
once, and afterwards linen and hot water. We must do our best to staunch
this wound and revive her.”
For the next quarter of an hour the man and the woman labored hard to
save Mrs. Jasher's life. Random bound up the wound in a rough and ready
fashion, and Jane fed the pale lips of her mistress with sips of brandy.
Mrs. Jasher gradually became more alive, and a faint sigh escaped from
her lips, as her wounded bosom rose and fell with recovered breath. When
Sir Frank was in hopes that she would speak, she suddenly relapsed again
into a comatose state. Luckily at that moment Archie returned with young
Dr. Robinson at his heels, and also was followed by Painter, the village
constable, who had luckily been picked up in the fog.
Robinson whistled as he looked at the insensible woman.
“She's had a narrow squeak,” he muttered, lifting the body with the
assistance of Random.
“Will she recover?” questioned Hope anxiously.
“I can't tell you yet,” answered the doctor; and with Sir Frank he
carried the heavy body of the widow into her bedroom. “How did it
happen?”
“That is my business,” said Painter, who had followed, and who was now
filled with importance. “You look after the body, sir, and I'll question
these gentlemen and the servant.”
“Servant yourself! Such sauce!” muttered Jane, with an angry toss of her
cap at the daring young policeman. “I know nothing. I left my mistress
in the parlor writing letters, and never heard anyone come in. The bell
didn't sound anyhow. The first thing I knew that anything was wrong was
on hearing the screams. When I looked into the parlor the candles and
the lamp were out, and there was a struggle going on in the dark. Then
I cried out, very naturally, I'm sure, and ran straight into the arms of
these gentlemen, as soon as I could get the front door open.”
After delivering this address, Jane was called away to assist the doctor
in the bedroom, and along with Archie and Random the constable repaired
to the pink parlor to hear what they had to say. Of course they could
tell him even less than Jane had told, and Archie protested that he was
quite unable to describe the man who had dashed out of the window.
“Ah,” said Painter sapiently, “he got out there; but how did he enter?”
“No doubt by the door,” said Random sharply.
“We don't know that, sir. Jane says she did not hear the bell.”
“Mrs. Jasher might have let the man in, whomsoever he was, secretly.”
“Why should she, sir?”
“Ah! now you are asking more than I can tell you. Only Mrs. Jasher can
explain, and it seems to me that she will die.”
Meanwhile, in some mysterious way the news of the crime had spread
through the village, and although it was growing late--for it was past
ten o'clock--a dozen or so of villagers came along. Also there arrived
a number of soldiers under a smart sergeant, and to him Sir Frank
explained what had happened. In the fainthearted way--for the mist was
now like cotton-wool--the military and the civilians hunted through the
marshes round the cottage, hoping to come across the assassin hiding
in a ditch. Needless to say, they found no one and nothing, for it was
worse than looking for a needle in a bundle of hay. The man had come out
of the mist, and, after executing the deed, had vanished into the mist,
and there was not the very slightest chance of finding him. Gradually,
as it drew towards midnight, the soldiers went back to the Fort, and the
villagers to their homes. But, along with the doctor and the constable,
Hope and his military friend stopped on. They were determined to get at
the root of the mystery, and when Mrs. Jasher became sensible she would
be able to reveal the truth.
“It's all of a piece with the sending of the emerald,” said Random
to the artist, “and that is connected, as we know, with the death of
Bolton.”
“Do you think that this man who has struck down Mrs. Jasher is the same
one who strangled Sidney Bolton?”
“I should think so. Perhaps Mrs. Jasher sent the emerald after all, and
this man killed her out of revenge.”
“But how would he know that she had the emerald?”
“God knows! She may have been his accomplice.”
Archie knit his brows.
“Who the devil can this mysterious person be?”
“I can only reply as you have done, my friend. God knows.”
“Well, I am certain that God will not let him escape this time. This
will bring Gartley once more into notoriety,” went on Hope. “By the way,
I saw one of the servants from the Pyramids here. I hope the fool won't
go home and frighten Lucy's life out of her.”
“Go to the Pyramids and see her,” suggested Sir Frank. “Mrs. Jasher is
still unconscious, and will be for hours, the doctor tells me.”
“It is too late to go to the Pyramids, Random.”
“If they know of this new tragedy there, I'll bet they are not in bed.”
Hope nodded.
“All the same, I'll remain here until Mrs. Jasher can speak,” he said,
and sat smoking with Random in the dining-room, as the most comfortable
room in the house.