The Green Mummy

Hope shrugged his square shoulders. He had not much belief in Don Pedro’s boasted royal memory, and did not think that he would recognize a young sailor of twenty in what would certainly be a grizzled old salt of fifty years. However, it was possible that the man might be right in his surmise, since Vasa alone could have known about the emeralds. The only doubt was whether he would have waited for thirty years before looting the mummy. Archie said nothing of these thoughts, as they would only serve to prolong an unprofitable discussion. But he made one suggestion.

“Your best plan,” he said suggestively, “is to write a description of Vasa – who, by the way, has probably changed his name – and hand it to the police, with the promise of a reward if he is found.”

“I am very poor, senor. Surely the Professor here – ”

“I can offer nothing,” said Braddock quickly, “as I am quite as poor as you are, if not more so, Sir Frank might help,” he added sarcastically.

“I shall not ask,” said Don Pedro loftily. “If Sir Frank chooses to become my son-in-law by purchasing back my royal ancestor, to which you have no right, I am willing that it should be so. But, poor as I am, I shall offer a reward myself, since the honor of the De Gayangoses is involved in this matter. What reward do you suggest, Mr. Hope?”

“Five hundred pounds,” said the Professor quickly.

“Too much,” said Hope sharply – “far too much. Make the reward one hundred pounds, Don Pedro. That is enough to tempt many a man.”

The Peruvian bowed and noted down the amount.

“I shall go at once to Pierside and see Inspector Date, who had to do with the inquest,” he remarked. “Meanwhile, Professor, please do not desecrate my royal ancestor’s body more than you can help.”

“I shall certainly not search for any more emeralds,” retorted Braddock dryly. “Now, clear out, both of you, and leave me to examine the mummy. Cockatoo, show these gentlemen out, and let no one else in.”

Don Pedro returned to the Warrior Hotel to inform his daughter of what had taken place, with the intention of going in the afternoon to Pierside. Meanwhile, he wrote out a full description of Vasa, making an allowance for the lapse of years and explaining the scar and the symbol on the left wrist. Hope also sought Lucy and related the latest development of the case. The girl was not surprised, as she likewise believed that the assassin had desired more than the mummy when he murdered Sidney Bolton.

“Mrs. Jasher did not know about the emeralds?” she asked suddenly.

“No,” replied Archie, much surprised. “Surely you do not suspect her of having a hand in the devilment?”

“Certainly not,” was the prompt answer. “Only I cannot understand how the mummy came to be in her garden.”

“It was brought up from the river, I expect.”

“But why to Mrs. Jasher’s garden?”

Hope shook his head.

“I cannot tell that. The whole thing is a mystery, and seems likely to remain so.”

“It seems to me,” said the girl, after a pause, “that it would be best for my father to return this mummy to Don Pedro, and have done with it, since it seems to bring bad luck. Then he can marry Mrs. Jasher, and go to Egypt on her fortune to seek for this tomb.”

“I doubt very much if Mrs. Jasher will marry the Professor now, after what he said last night.”

“Nonsense, my father was in a rage and said what first came into his mind. I daresay she is angry. However, I shall see her this afternoon, and put matters right.”

“You are very anxious that the Professor should marry the lady.”

“I am,” replied Lucy seriously, “as I want to leave my father comfortably settled when I marry you. The sooner he makes Mrs. Jasher his wife, the readier will he be to let me go, and I want to marry you as soon as I possibly can. I am tired of Gartley and of this present life.”

Of course to this speech Archie could make only one answer, and as that took the form of kissing, it was entirely satisfactory to Miss Kendal. Then they discussed the future and also the proposed engagement of Sir Frank Random to the Peruvian lady. But both left the subject of the mummy alone, as they were quite weary of the matter, and neither could suggest a solution of the mystery.

Meanwhile Professor Braddock had passed a very pleasant hour in examining the swathings of the mummy. But his pleasure was destined to be cut short sooner than he desired, as Captain Hiram Hervey unexpectedly arrived. Although Cockatoo – as he had been instructed – did his best to keep him out, the sailor forced his way in, and heralded his appearance by throwing the Kanaka head-foremost into the museum.

“What does this mean?” demanded the fiery Professor, while Cockatoo, with an angry expression, struggled to his feet, and Hervey, smoking his inevitable cheroot, stood on the threshold – “how dare you treat my property in this careless way.”

“Guess your property should behave itself then,” said the captain in careless tones, and sauntered into the room. “D’y think I’m goin’ to be chucked out by a measly nigger and – Great Scott!” – this latter exclamation was extorted by the sight of the mummy.

Braddock motioned to the still angry Cockatoo to move aside, and then nodded triumphantly.

“You didn’t expect to see that, did you?” he asked.

Hervey came to anchor on a chair and turned the cheroot in his mouth with an odd look at the mummy.

“When will he be hanged?”

Braddock stared.

“When will who be hanged?”

“The man as stole that thing.”

“We haven’t found him yet,” Braddock informed him swiftly.

“Then how in creation did you annex the corpse.”

The Professor sat down and explained. The lean, long mariner listened quietly, only nodding at intervals. He did not seem to be surprised when he heard that the corpse of the head Inca had been found in Mrs. Jasher’s garden, especially when Braddock explained the whereabouts of the property.

“Wal,” he drawled, “that don’t make my hair stand on end. I guess the garden was on his way and he used it for a cemetery.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded the perplexed scientist.

“About the man who strangled your help and yanked away the corpse.”

“But I don’t know who he is. Nobody knows.”

“Go slow. I do.”

“You!” Braddock started and flung himself across the room to seize Hervey by the lapels of his reefer coat. “You know. Tell me who he is, so that I can get the emeralds.”

“Emeralds!” Hervey removed Braddock’s plump hands and stared greedily.

“Don’t you know? No, of course you don’t. But two emeralds were buried with the mummy, and they have been stolen.”

“Who by?”

“No doubt by the assassin who murdered poor Sidney.”

Hervey spat on the floor, and his weather-beaten face took on an expression of, profound regret.

“I guess I’m a fool of the best.”

“Why?” asked Braddock, again puzzled.