The Green Mummy

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"One thousand pounds: a mere nothing. Consider, Lucy, that if
you marry Random you will have a title."

Miss Kendal, whose patience was getting exhausted, stamped a very
neat boot.

"I don't know why you talk in this way, father."

"I wish to see you happy."

"Then your wish is granted: you do see me happy. But I won't be
happy long if you keep bothering me to marry a man I don't care
two straws about. I am going to be Mrs. Hope, so there."

"My dear child," said the Professor, who always became paternal
when most obstinate, "I have reason to believe that the green
mummy can be discovered and poor Sidney's death avenged if a
reward of five hundred pounds is offered. If Hope can give me
that money--"

"He will not: I shall not allow him to. He has lost too much
already."

"In that case I must apply to Sir Frank Random."

"Well, apply," she snapped, being decidedly angry; "it's none of
my business. I don't want to hear anything about it."

"It is your business, miss," cried Braddock, growing angry in his
turn and becoming very pink; "you know that only by getting you
to marry Random can I procure the money."

"Oh!" said Lucy coldly. "So this is why you sent for me. Now,
father, I have had enough of this. You gave your consent to
Archie being engaged to me in exchange for one thousand pounds.
As I love him I shall abide by the word you gave. If I had not
loved him I should have refused to marry him. You understand?"

"I understand that I have a very obstinate girl to deal with.
You shall marry as I choose."

"I shall do nothing of the sort. You have no right to dictate my
choice of a husband."

"No right, when I am your father?"

"You are not my father: merely my step-father--merely a relation
by marriage. I am of age. I can do as I like, and intend to."

"But, Lucy," implored Braddock, changing his tune, "think."

"I have thought. I marry Archie."

"But he is poor and Random is rich."

"I don't care. I love Archie and I don't love Frank."

"Would you have me lose the mummy for ever?"

"Yes, I would, if my misery is to be the price of its
restoration. Why should I sell myself to a man I care nothing
about, just because you want a musty, fusty old corpse? Now I am
going." Lucy walked to the door. "I shan't listen to another
word. And if you bother me again, I shall marry Archie at once
and leave the house."

"I can make you leave it in any case, you ungrateful girl,"
bellowed Braddock, who was purple with rage, never having a very
good temper at the best of times. "Look what I have done for
you!"

Miss Kendal could have pointed out that her step-father had done
nothing save attend to himself. But she disdained such an
argument, and without another word opened the door and walked
out. Almost immediately afterwards Cockatoo entered, much to the
relief of the Professor, who relieved his feelings by kicking the
unfortunate Kanaka. Then he sat down again to consider ways and
means of obtaining the necessary mummy and still more necessary
money.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BARONET

Sir Frank Random was an amiable young gentleman with--as the
saying goes--all his goods in the shop window. Fair-haired and
tall, with a well-knit, athletic figure, a polished manner, and a
man-of-the-world air, he strictly resembled the romantic officer
of Bow Bells, Family Herald, Young Ladies' Journal fiction. But
the romance was all in his well-groomed looks, as he was as
commonplace a Saxon as could be met with in a day's march. Fond
of sport, attentive to his duties as artillery captain, and
devoted to what is romantically known as the fair sex, he
sauntered easily through life, very well contented with himself
and with his agreeable surroundings. He read fiction when he did
read, and those weekly papers devoted to sport; troubled his head
very little about politics, save when they had to do with a
possible German invasion, and was always ready to do any one a
good turn. His brother-officers declared that he was not half a
bad sort, which was high praise from the usually reticent service
man. His capacity may be accurately gauged by the fact that he
did not possess a single enemy, and that every one spoke well of
him. A mortal who possesses no quality likely to be envied by
those around him is certain to belong to the rank and file of
humanity. But these unconsidered units of mankind can always
console themselves with the undoubted fact that mediocrity is
invariably happy.

Such a man as Random would never set the Thames on fire, and
certainly he had no ambition to perform that astounding feat. He
was fond of his profession and intended to remain in the army as
long as he could. He desired to marry and beget a family, and
retire, when set free from soldiering, to his country seat, and
there perform blamelessly the congenial role of a village squire,
until called upon to join the respectable corpses in the Random
vault. Not that he was a saint or ever could be one. Neither
black nor white, he was simply gray, being an ordinary mixture of
good and bad. As theology has provided no hereafter for gray
people, it is hard to imagine where the bulk of humanity will go.
But doubts on this point never troubled Random. He went to
church, kept his mouth shut and his pores open and vaguely
believed that it would be all right somehow. A very comfortable
if superficial philosophy indeed.

It can easily be guessed that Random's somewhat colorless
personality would never attract Lucy Kendal, since the hues of
her own character were deeper. For this reason she was drawn to
Hope, who possessed that aggressive artistic temperament, where
good and bad, are in violent contrast. Random took opinions from
books, or from other people, and his mind, like a looking-glass,
reflected whatever came along; but Hope possessed opinions of his
own, both right and wrong, and held to these in the face of all
verbal opposition. He could argue and did argue, when Random
simply agreed. Lucy had similar idiosyncrasies, inherited from a
clever father, so it was just as well that she preferred Archie
to Frank. Had the latter young gentleman married her, he would
have dwindled to Lady Random's husband, and would have found too
late that he had domesticated a kind of imitation George Eliot.
When he congratulated Archie on his engagement somewhat ruefully,
he little thought what an escape he had had.

But Professor Braddock, who did not belong to the gray tribe,
knew nothing of this, as his Egyptological studies did not permit
him time to argue on such commonplace matters. He therefore
failed in advance when he set out to persuade Random into
renewing his suit. As the fiery little man afterwards expressed
himself, "I might as well have talked to a mollusc," for Random
politely declined to be used as an instrument to forward the
Professor's ambition at the cost of Miss Kendal's unhappiness.
The interview took place in Sir Frank's quarters at the Fort on
the day after Hervey had called to propose a search for the
corpse. And it was during this interview that Braddock learned
something which both startled and annoyed him.

Random, at three o'clock, had just changed into mufti, when the
Professor was announced by his servant. Braddock, determined to
give his host no chance of denying himself, followed close on the
man's heels, and was in the room almost before Sir Frank had read
the card. It was a bare room, sparsely furnished, according to
the War Office's idea of comfort, and although the baronet had
added a few more civilized necessities, it still looked somewhat
dismal. Braddock, who liked comfort, shook hands carelessly with
his host and cast a disapproving eye on his surroundings.

"Dog kennel! dog kennel!" grumbled the polite Professor. "Bare
desolation like a damned dungeon. You might as well live in the
Sahara."

"It would certainly be warmer," replied Random, who knew the
scientist's snappy ways very well. "Take a chair, sir!"

"Hard as bricks, confound it! Hand me over a cushion. There,
that's better! No, I never drink between meals, thank you.
Smoke? Hang it, Random, you should know by this time that I
dislike making a chimney of my throat! There! there! don't fuss.
Take a seat and listen to what I have to say. It's important.
Poke the fire, please: it's cold."

Random placidly did as he was told, and then lighted a cigar, as
he sat down quietly.

"I am sorry to hear of your trouble, sir.'"

"Trouble! trouble! What particular trouble?"

"The death of your assistant."

"Oh yes. Silly young ass to get killed. Lost my mummy, too:
there's trouble if you like."

"The green mummy." Random looked into the fire, "Yes. I have
heard of the green mummy."

"I should think you have," snapped Braddock, warming his plump
hands. "Every penny-a-liner has been talking about it. When did
you return?"

"On the same day that that steamer with the mummy on board
arrived," was Random's odd reply.

The Professor stared suspiciously. "I don't see why you should
date your movements by my mummy," he retorted.

"Well, I had a reason in doing so."

"What reason?"

"The mummy--"

"What about it?--do you know where it is?" Braddock started to
his feet, and looked eagerly at the calm face of his host.

"No, I wish I did. How much did you pay for it, Professor?"

"What's that to you?" snapped the other, resuming his seat.

"Nothing at all. But it is a great deal to Don Pedro de
Gayangos."

"And who the deuce is he? Some Spanish Egyptologist?"

"I don't think he is an Egyptologist, sir."

"He must be, if he wants my mummy."

"You forget, Professor, that the green mummy comes from Peru."

"Who denied that it did, sir? You are illogical--infernally
so." The little man rose and straddled on the hearth-rug, with
his back to the fire and his hands under his coat-tails. "Now,
sir," he said, glaring at the young man like a school-master--
"what the deuce are you talking about? Out with it: no evasion."

"Oh, hang it, Professor, don't jump down my throat, spurs and
all," said Random, rather annoyed by this dictatorial tone.

"I never wear spurs: go on, sir, and don't argue."

Sir Frank could not help laughing, although he knew that it was
useless to induce Braddock to be civil. Not that the Professor,
meant to be rude, especially as he desired to conciliate Random.
But long years of fighting with other scientists and of having
his own scientific way had turned him into a kind of
school-master, and every one knows that they are the most
domineering of the human race.

"It's a long story," said the baronet, with a shrug and a smile.

"Story! story! What story?"

"'That which I am about to tell you." And then

Random began hurriedly, so as to prevent further arguments of an
unprofitable kind. "I was at Genoa with my yacht, and there
stopped on shore at the Casa Bianca."

"What place is that?"

"An hotel. I there met with a certain Don Pedro de Gayangos and
his daughter, Donna Inez, He was a gentleman from Lima, and had
come to Europe in search of the green mummy."

Braddock stared.

"And what did this confounded Spaniard want with my green mummy?"
he demanded indignantly. "How did he know of its existence?--
what reason had he to try and obtain it? Answer, sir."

"I shall let Don Pedro answer himself," said Random dryly. "He
arrives in a couple of days, and intends to take rooms at the
Warrior Inn along with his daughter. Then you can question him,
Professor."

"I question you," snapped Braddock angrily.

"And I am answering to the best of my ability. Don Pedro told me
nothing beyond the fact that he wanted the mummy, and had come to
Europe to get it. In some way he learned that it was in Malta
and was for sale."

"Quite so: quite so," rasped the Professor. "He saw the
advertisement in the newspapers, as I did, and wanted to buy it
over my head."

"Oh, he wanted to buy it right enough, and wired to Malta," said
Random, "but in reply he received a letter stating that it had
been sold to you and was being taken to England on The Diver. I
followed The Diver in my yacht and arrived at Pierside an hour
after she did."

"Ah!" Braddock glared. "I begin to see light. This infernal
Spaniard was on board, and wanted my mummy. He knew that Bolton
had taken it to the Sailor's Rest and went there to kill the poor
lad and get my--"

"Nothing of the sort," interrupted Sir Frank impatiently. "Don
Pedro remained behind in Genoa, intending to write and ask if you
would sell him the mummy. I wrote and told him of the murder of
your assistant and related all that had happened. He wired to me
that he was coming to England at once, as--as I told you. He
will be in Gartley in a couple of days. That is the whole
story."

"It is a sufficiently strange one," grumbled Braddock, frowning.
"What does he want with my mummy?"

"I cannot tell you. But if you will sell--"

"Sell! sell! sell!" vociferated Braddock furiously.

"Don Pedro will give you a good price," finished Random calmly.

"I haven't got the mummy," said the Professor, sitting down and
wiping his pink head, "and if I had, I certainly would not sell.
However, I'll hear what this gentleman has to say when he
arrives. Perhaps he can throw some light on the mystery of this
crime."

"I am perfectly certain that he cannot, sir. Don Pedro--as I
said--was left behind in Genoa."

"Humph!" said the Professor, unconvinced. "He could easily
employ a third party."

Random rose, looking and feeling annoyed.

"I assure you that Don Pedro is a gentleman and a man of honor.
He would not stoop to--"

"There! there!" Braddock waved his hands. "Sit down: sit down."

"You shouldn't say such things, Professor."

"I say what I desire to say," retorted the old gentleman
tartly; "but we can dismiss the subject for the time being."

"I am only too glad to do so," said Random, who was ruffled out
of his usual calm by the veiled accusation which Braddock had
brought against his foreign friend, "and to get to a more
agreeable subject, tell me how Miss Kendal is keeping."

"She is ill, very ill," said the Professor solemnly.

"Ill? Why, Hope, whom I met the other day, said that she was
feeling very well and very happy."

"So Hope thinks, because he has forced her into an engagement."

Random started to his feet.

"Forced her? Nonsense!"

"It isn't nonsense, and don't dare to speak like that to me, sir.
I repeat that Lucy--poor child--is breaking her heart for you."

The young man stared and then broke into a hearty laugh.

"Pardon me, sir, but that is impossible."

"It isn't, confound you!" said Braddock, who did not like being
laughed at. "I know women."

"You don't know your daughter."

"Step-daughter, you mean."

"Ah, perhaps the more distant relationship accounts for your
ignorance of her character," said Random dryly. "You are quite
wrong. I was in love with Miss Kendal, and asked her to be my
wife before I went on leave. She refused me, saying that she
loved Hope, and because of her refusal I took my broken heart to
Monte Carlo, where I lost much more money than I had any right to
lose."

"Your broken heart seems to have mended quickly," said Braddock,
who was trying to suppress his wrath at this instance of Lucy's
duplicity, for so he considered it.

"Oh, pooh, it's only my way of speaking," laughed the young man.
"If my heart had been really broken I should not have mentioned
the fact."

"Then you did not love Lucy, and you dared to play fast and loose
with her affections," raged Braddock, stamping.

"You are quite wrong," said Sir Frank sharply; "I did love Miss
Kendal, or I should certainly not have asked her to be my wife.
But when she told me that she loved another man, I stood aside as
any fellow would."

"You should have insisted on--"

"On nothing, sir. I am not the man to force a woman to give me a
heart which belongs to another person. I am very glad that Miss
Kendal is engaged to Hope, as he is a capital fellow, and will
make her a better husband than I ever could have made her.
Besides," Random shrugged his shoulders, "one nail drives another
out."

"Humph! That means you love another."

"I am not bound to tell you my private affairs, Professor."

"Quite so: quite so; but Inez is a pretty and romantic name."

"I don't know what you are talking about, sir," said Random
stiffly.

Braddock chuckled, having read the truth in the flush which had
crept over Random's tanned face.

"I ask your pardon," he said elaborately. "I am an old man, and
I was your father's friend. You must not mind if I have been a
trifle inquisitive."

"Say no more, sir: that is all right."

"I don't agree with you, Random. Things are not all right and
never will be until my mummy is discovered. Now you can help
me."

"In what way?" asked the other uneasily.

"With money. Understand, my boy," added the Professor in a
genial way which he knew well how to assume, "I should have
preferred Lucy becoming your wife. However, since she prefers
Hope, there's no more to be said on that score. I therefore will
not make the offer I came here to make."

"An offer, sir?"

"Yes! I fancied that you loved Lucy and were broken-hearted by
the news of her engagement to Hope. I therefore intended to ask
you to give me, or rather lend me, five hundred pounds on
condition that I helped you to--"

"Stop, Professor," said Random, coloring, "I should never have
bought Miss Kendal as my wife on those terms."

"Of course! of course! and--as I say--there is no more to be
said. I shall therefore agree to Lucy's engagement to Hope"--
Braddock carefully omitted to say that he had already agreed and
had been paid one thousand pounds to agree--"and will
congratulate you when you lead Donna Inez to the altar."

"I never said anything about Donna Inez, Professor Braddock."

"Of course not: modern reticence. However, I can see through a
brick wall as well as most people. I understand, so let us drop
the subject, my boy. And this five hundred pounds--"

"I cannot lend it to you, Professor. The fact is, I lost heaps
of coin at Monte Carlo, and am not in a position to--"

"Very good, let us shelve that also," said Braddock with apparent
heartiness, although he was really very angry at his failure. "I
am sorry, though, as I wish to get back the mummy and to revenge
poor Sidney Bolton's death."

"How can the five hundred do that?" asked Random with interest.

"Well," drawled the Professor with his eyes on the young man's
attentive face, "Captain Hervey of The Diver came to me yesterday
and proposed to search for the assassin and his plunder on
condition that I paid him five hundred pounds. I am, as you
know, very poor for a scientist, and so I wished to borrow the
five hundred from you on condition that Lucy--"

"We won't talk of that again," said Random hurriedly; "but do you
mean to say that this Captain Hervey knows of anything likely to
solve this mystery?"

"He says that he does not, and merely proposes to search. From
what I have seen of the man I should think that he had all the
capacities of a good bloodhound and would certainly succeed. But
he will not move a step without money."

"Five hundred pounds," murmured Random thoughtfully, while the
Professor watched him closely. "I can tell you how to obtain
it."

"How? In what way?"

"Don Pedro seems to be rich, and he wants the mummy," said the
baronet. "So when he comes here ask him to--"

"Certainly not: certainly not," raged Braddock, clapping on his
hat in a fury. "How dare you make such a proposition to me,
Random! If this Don Pedro offers the reward and Hervey finds the
mummy, he will simply hand it over to your friend."

"He can scarcely do that, since you have bought the mummy. But
Don Pedro is willing to purchase it from you."

"Humph!" Braddock moved to the door, thinking. "I shall reserve
my decision until this man arrives. Good day," and he departed.

Random did not attempt to detain him, as he was somewhat weary of
the Professor's vagaries. He knew very well that Braddock would
call on Don Pedro when he came to the Warrior Inn, and join
forces with him in searching for the lost goods. And the train
of thought initiated by the Professor's visit led Random to a
certain drawer, whence he took the photograph of a
splendid-looking beauty. To this he pressed his lips. "I
wonder if your father will give you to me in exchange for that
mummy," he thought, and kissed the pictured face again.

CHAPTER IX

MRS. JASHER'S LUCK'

Some weeks had now elapsed since the death and burial of Sidney
Bolton, and the excitement had simmered down to a gentle
speculation as to who had killed him. This question was
discussed in a half-hearted manner round the winter fires of
Gartley, but gradually people were ceasing to interest themselves
in a crime, the mystery of which would apparently never be
solved. Life went on in the village and at the Pyramids much in
the same way, save that the Professor attended along with
Cockatoo to his museum and did not engage another assistant.

Archie and Lucy were perfectly happy, as they looked forward to
being married in the spring, and Braddock showed no desire to
interfere with their engagement. They knew, of course, that he
had called upon Sir Frank, but were ignorant of what had taken
place. Random himself called at the Pyramids to congratulate
Miss Kendal on her engagement, and seemed so very pleased that
she was going to marry the man of her choice, that, woman-like,
she grew rather annoyed. As the baronet had been her lover, she
thought that he should wear the willow for her sake. But Random
showed no disposition to do so, therefore Lucy shrewdly guessed
that his broken heart had been mended by another woman. The
Professor could have confirmed the truth of this from the hints
which Random had given him, but he said nothing about his
interview with the young man, nor did he mention that a Spanish
gentleman from Peru was seeking for the famous green mummy.

Considerably vexed that Random should be so cheerful, Lucy cast
round to learn the truth. She could scarcely ask the baronet
himself, and Archie professed himself unable to explain. Miss
Kendal did not dream of cross-examining Braddock, as it never
entered her mind that the dry-as-dust scientist would know
anything. It then occurred to this inquisitive young lady that
Mrs. Jasher might be aware of Random's secret, which made him so
cheerful. Sir Frank was a great friend of the plump widow, and
frequently went to take afternoon tea at her small house, which
was situated no great distance from the Fort. In fact, Mrs.
Jasher entertained the officers largely, as she was hospitable by
nature, and liked to have presentable men about her for flirting
purposes. With good-looking youth she assumed the maternal air,
and in the role of a clever woman of the world professed to be
the adviser of one and all. In this way she became quite a
favorite, and her little parlor--she liked the old English word
--was usually, well filled at the hour of afternoon tea.

Twice already Lucy had called on Mrs. Jasher after the commotion
caused by the crime, as she wished to speak to her about the
same; but on each occasion the widow proved to be absent in
London. However, the third visit proved to be more lucky, for
Mrs. Jasher was at home, and expressed herself happy to see the
girl.

"So good of you to come and see me in my little wooden hut," said
the widow, kissing her guest.

And Mrs. Jasher's cottage really was a little wooden hut, being
what was left of an old-fashioned farmhouse, built before the
stone age. It lay on the verge of the marshes in an isolated
position and was placed in the middle of a square garden,
protected from the winter floods by a low stone wall solidly
built, but of no great height. The road to the Fort ran past the
front part of the garden, but behind the marshes spread towards
the embankment, which cut off the view of the Thames. The
situation was not an ideal one, nor was the cottage, but money
was scarce with Mrs. Jasher, and she had obtained the whole place
at a surprisingly small rental. The house and grounds were dry
enough in summer, but decidedly damp in winter. Therefore, the
widow went to a flat in London, as a rule, for the season of
fogs. But this winter she had made up her mind--so she told
Lucy--to remain in her own little castle and brave the watery
humors of the marshes.

"I can always keep fires burning in every room," said Mrs.
Jasher, when she had removed her guest's hat and had settled her
for a confidential talk on the sofa. "And after all, my dear,
there is no place like home."

The room was small, and Mrs. Jasher was small, so she suited her
surroundings excellently. Also, the widow had the good taste to
furnish it sparsely, instead of crowding it with furniture; but
what furniture there was could not be improved upon. There were
Chippendale chairs, a Louis Quinze table, a Sheridan cabinet, and
a satin-wood desk, hand-painted, which was said to have been the
property of the unhappy Marie Antoinette. Oil-paintings adorned
the rose-tinted walls, chiefly landscapes, although one or two
were portraits. Also, there were water-colored pictures, framed
and signed caricatures, many plates of old china, and rice-paper
adornments from Canton. The room was essentially feminine, being
filled with Indian stuffs, with silver oddments, with flowers,
and with other trifles. The walls, the carpet, the hangings, and
the upholstery of the arm-chairs were all of a rosy hue, so that
Mrs. Jasher looked as young as Dame Holda in the Venusberg. A
very pretty room and a very charming hostess, was the verdict of
the young gentlemen from the Fort, who came here to flirt when
they were not serving their country.

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