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?”
Hervey drew up the left sleeve of his reefer jacket, and showed on his bared wrist the symbol of the sun and the encircling serpent.
“Is that enough?” he drawled, “or do you want to look at this?” and he turned his head to reveal his scarred right temple.
“Then you admit that you are Vasa?”
“Wal,” drawled the captain again, “that's one of my names, I guess, though I haven't used it since I traded that blamed mummy in Paris, thirty years ago. There's nothing like owning up.”
“Are you not Swedish?” asked Lucy timidly.
“I am a citizen of the world, I guess,” replied Hervey with great politeness for him, “and America suits me for headquarters as well as any other nation. I might be Swedish or Danish or a Dago for choice. Vasa may be my name, or Hervey, or anything you like. But I guess I'm a man all through.”
“And a thief!” cried Don Pedro, who had resumed his seat, but was keeping quiet with difficulty.
“Not of those emeralds,” rejoined the skipper coolly: “Lord, to think of the chance I missed! Thirty years ago I could have looted them, and again the other day. But I never knew—I never knew,” cried Hervey regretfully, with his vividly blue eyes on the mummy. “I could jes' kick myself, gentlemen, when I think of the miss.”
“Then you didn't steal the manuscript along with the emeralds?”
“Wal, I did,” cried Hervey, turning to Archie, who had spoken, “but it was in a furren lingo, to which I didn't catch on. If I'd known I'd have learned about those blamed emeralds.”
“What did you do with the copy of the manuscript you stole?” asked Don Pedro sharply. “I know there was a copy, as my father told me so. I have the original myself, but the transcript—and not a translation, as I fancied—appeared in Sir Frank Random's room to-day, hidden behind some books.”
Hervey made no move, but smoked steadily, with his eyes on the carpet. However, Archie, who was observing keenly, saw that he was more startled than he would admit. The explanation had taken him by surprise.
“Explain!” cried the Peruvian sharply.
Hervey looked up and fixed a pair of very evil eyes on the Don.
“See here,” he remarked, “if the lady wasn't present, I'd show you that I take no orders from any yellow—that is, from any low-down Don.”
“Lucy, my dear, leave us,” said Braddock, rising, much excited; “we must have this matter sifted to the bottom, and if Hervey can explain better in your absence, I think you should go.”
Although Miss Kendal was very anxious to hear all that was to be heard, she saw the advisability of taking this advice, especially as Hope gave her arm a meaning nudge.
“I'll go,” she said meekly, and was escorted by her lover to the door. There she paused. “Tell me all that takes place,” she whispered, and when Archie nodded, she vanished promptly. The young man closed the door and returned to his seat in time to hear Don Pedro reiterate his request for an explanation.
“And 'spose I can't oblige,” said the skipper, now more at his ease since the lady was out of the room.
“Then I shall have you arrested,” was the quick reply.
“For what?”
“For the theft of my mummy.”
Hervey laughed raucously.
“I guess the law can't worry me about that after thirty years, and in a low-down country like Peru. Your Government has shifted fifty times since I looted the corpse.”
This was quite true, and there was absolutely no chance of the skipper being brought to book. Don Pedro looked rather disconsolate, and his gaze dropped under the glare of Hervey's eyes, which seemed unfair, seeing that the Don was as good as the captain was evil.
“You can't expect me to condone the theft,” he muttered.
“I reckon I don't expect anything,” retorted Hervey coolly “I looted the corpse, I don't deny, and—”
“After my father had treated you like a son,” said Don Pedro bitterly. “You were homeless and friendless, and my father took you in, only to find that you robbed him of his most precious possession.”
The skipper had the grace to blush, and shifted uneasily in his chair.
“You can't say truer than that,” he grumbled, averting his eyes. “I guess I'm a bad lot all through. But a friend of mine wanted the corpse, and offered me a heap of dollars to see the business through.”
“Do you mean to say that some one asked you to steal it?”
“No,” put in Braddock unexpectedly, “for I was the friend.”
“You!” Don Pedro swung round in great astonishment, but the Professor faced him with all the consciousness of innocence.
“Yes,” he remarked quietly, “as I told you, I was in Peru thirty years ago. I was then hunting for specimens of Inca mummies. Vasa—this man now called Hervey—told me that he could obtain a splendid specimen of a mummy, and I arranged to give him one hundred pounds to procure what I wanted. But I swear to you, De Gayangos,” continued the little man earnestly, “that I did not know he proposed to steal the mummy from you.”
“You knew it was the green mummy?” asked Don Pedro sharply.
“No, I only knew that it was a mummy.”
“Did Vasa get it for you?”
“I guess not,” said the gentleman who confessed to that name. “The Professor went to Cuzco and got into trouble—”
“I was carried off to the mountains by some Indians,” interpolated the Professor, “and only escaped after a year's captivity. I did not mind that, as it gave me the opportunity of studying a decaying civilization. But when I returned a free man to Lima, I found that Vasa had left the country with the mummy.”
“That's so,” assented Hervey, waving his hand. “I got a berth as second mate on a wind-jammer sailing to Europe, and as the country wasn't healthy for me since I'd looted the green mummy, I took it abroad and yanked it to Paris, where I sold it for a couple of hundred pounds. With that, I changed my name and had a high old time. I never heard of the blamed thing again until the Professor here turned up with Mr. Bolton at Pierside, asking me to bring it in The Diver from Malta. It was what you'd call a coincidence, I reckon,” added Hervey lazily; “but I did cry small when I heard the Professor here had paid nine hundred for a thing I'd let slip for two hundred. Had I known of those infernal emeralds, I'd have ripped open the case on board and would have recouped myself. But I knew nothing, and Bolton never told me.”
“How could he,” asked Braddock quietly, “when he did not know that any jewels were buried with the dead? I did not know either. And I have explained why I wanted the mummy. But it never struck me until I hear what you say now, that this mummy,” he nodded towards the green case, “was the one which you had stolen at Lima from De Gayangos. But you must do me the justice, Captain Hervey, to tell Don Pedro that I never countenanced the theft.”
“No! you were square enough, I guess. The sin is on my own blessed shoulders, and I don't ask it to be shifted.”
“What did you do with the copy of the manuscript?” asked Don Pedro.
Hervey ruminated.
“I can't think,” he mused. “I found a screed of Latin along with the mummy, when I looted it from your Lima house, but it dropped out of my mind as to what became of it. Maybe I passed it along to the Paris man, and he sold it along with the corpse to the Maltese gent.”
“But I tell you this copy was found in Sir Frank's room,” insisted De Gayangos. “How did it come to be there?”
Captain Hervey rose and took a turn up and down the room. When Cockatoo came in his way he calmly kicked him aside.
“What do you think, Mr. Hope?” he asked, coming to a full stop before Archie, while Cockatoo crept away with a very dark scowl.
“I don't know what to think,” replied that young gentleman promptly, “save that Sir Frank is my very good friend, and that I take his word that he knows nothing of how the manuscript came to be hidden in his bookcase.”
“Huh!” said Hervey scornfully, and took another turn up and down the room in silence. “I surmise that your friend isn't a white man.”
Hope leaped to his feet.
“That's a lie,” he said distinctly.
“I'd have shot you for that down Chili way,” snapped the skipper.
“Possibly,” retorted the artist dryly, “but I happen to be handy with my revolver also. I say again that you lie. Random is not the man to commit so foul a crime.”
“Then how did the manuscript get into his room?” questioned Hervey.
“He is trying to learn, and, when he does, will come here to let us all know, Captain Hervey. But I ask you on what grounds you accuse him? Oh I know all you said to-day,” added Hope scornfully, waving his hand; “but you can't prove that Random got the manuscript.”
“If it's in his room, as you acknowledge, I can,” said Hervey, speaking in a much more cultivated tone. “See here. As I said before, that copy must have been passed along with the corpse to the Maltese man. Well, then, the Professor here bought the corpse, and with it the manuscript.”
“No,” contradicted the little man, prodigiously excited. “Bolton wrote to me full particulars of the mummy, but said nothing about any manuscript.”
“Well, he wouldn't,” replied Hervey calmly, “seeing that he'd know Latin.”
“He did know Latin,” admitted Braddock uneasily; “I taught him myself. But do you mean to say that he got that manuscript and read it and intended to keep the fact of the emeralds secret?”
Hervey nodded three times, and twisted his cheroot in his mouth.
“How else can you figure the business out?” he demanded quietly, and with his eyes fixed on the excited Professor. “Bolton must have got that manuscript, as I can't remember what I did with it, save pass it along with the corpse. He—as you admit—doesn't tell you about it when he writes. Well, then, I reckon he calculated getting this corpse to England, and intended to steal the emeralds when safely ashore.”
“But he could have done that on the boat,” said Archie quickly.
“I guess not, with me about,” said Hervey coolly. “I'd have spotted his game and would have howled for shares.”
“You dare to say that?” demanded De Gayangos fiercely.
“Keep your hair on. I dare to say anything that comes up my darned back, you bet. I'm not going to knuckle down to a yellow-stomach—”
Out flew Don Pedro's long arm, and Hervey slammed against the wall. He slipped his hand around to his hip pocket with an ugly smile, but before he could use the revolver he produced, Hope dashed up his arm, and the ball went through the ceiling. “Lucy!” cried the young man, knowing that the drawing-room was overhead, and in a moment was out of the door, racing up the stairs at top speed. Some sense of shame seemed to overpower Hervey as he thought that he might have shot the girl, and he replaced the revolver in his pocket with a shrug.
“I climb down and apologize,” he said to Don Pedro, who bowed gravely.
“Hang you, sir; you might have shot my daughter,” cried Braddock. “The drawing-room, where she is sitting, is right overhead, and-”
As he spoke the door opened, and Lucy came in on Archie's arm. She was pale with fright, but had sustained no damage. It seemed that the revolver bullet had passed through the floor some distance away from where she was sitting.
“I offer my humble apologies, miss,” said the cowed Hervey.
“I'll break your neck, you ruffian!” growled Hope, who looked, and was, dangerous. “How dare you shoot here and—”
“It's all right,” interposed Lucy, not wishing for further trouble. “I am all safe. But I shall remain here for the rest of your interview, Captain Hervey, as I am sure you will not shoot again in the presence of a lady.”
“No, miss,” muttered the captain, and when again invited by the angry Professor to speak, resumed his discourse in low tones. “Wal, as I was saying,” he remarked, sitting down with a dogged look, “Bolton intended 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.
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 may have found the manuscript packed up in the mummy, amongst the graveclothes, in fact. If he read it—as he would and could, seeing that he was an excellent Latin scholar, thanks to Professor Braddock's training—he might have formed a design to steal the emeralds when he was in the Sailor's Rest. Then someone saved him the trouble, and packed him off to Gartley instead of the mummy.”
“But why should Widow Anne leave the manuscript in my room?” argued Random.
“Can't you see? Bolton knew that you wanted the mummy for Don Pedro, and was aware how you had—so to speak—used threats in the presence of witnesses, since you spoke out aloud on the deck.”
“Only to warn Bolton against the Indians,” pleaded Random.
“Exactly; but your words were capable of being twisted as Hervey has twisted them. Well, if Widow Anne really went to see her son—and from the lie about the borrowed clothes it looks like it—he may have given her the manuscript, so as to throw the blame on you.”
“The murder?”
“No, no,” said Archie testily. “Bolton did not expect to be murdered. But I really believe that he intended to fly with the emeralds, and hoped that when the manuscript was found in your room you would be accused. The idea was suggested to him, I believe, by your visit to The Diver.”
“What do you think, Miss Kendal?” asked Random nervously.
“I fancy that it is possible.”
Sir Frank turned to the Peruvian.
“Don Pedro,” he said proudly, “you have heard what Hervey says; do you believe that I am guilty?”
For answer De Gayangos took his daughter's hand and placed it in that of the young soldier.
“That will show you what I think,” he said gravely.
“Thank you, sir,” said Random, moved, and shook his future father-in-law heartily by the hand, while Donna Inez, throwing all restraint to the winds, kissed her lover exultingly on the check. In the midst of this scene Professor Braddock returned, looking very pleased.
“I have induced Hervey to hold his tongue for a few days until we can look into this matter,” he said, rubbing his hands “that is, if you think it wise, all of you. Otherwise, I am quite willing to go myself to-morrow and tell the police.”
“No,” said Archie rapidly, “let us thresh out the matter ourselves. We will save Sir Frank's name from a police court slur at all events.”
“I do not think there is any chance of Sir Frank being arrested,” said Don Pedro politely; “the evidence is insufficient. And at the worst he can provide an alibi.”
“I am not so sure of that,” said Random anxiously. “I went to London certainly, but I did not go to any place where I am known. However,” he added cheerfully, “I daresay I'll be able to defend myself. Still, the fact remains that we are no nearer to learning who killed Bolton than we were.”
“I am sending Cockatoo to Pierside to-morrow to stop at the Sailor's Rest for a time,” said Braddock quickly. “He will watch Hervey, and if there is anything suspicious about his movements, we shall soon know.”
“And I turn amateur detective to-morrow and question Widow Anne,” said Hope, after which remark he had to explain matters to Braddock, who had been out of the room when Mrs. Bolton's strange request had been discussed.
Meanwhile Donna Inez had been whispering to her lover and pointing to the mummy. Don Pedro followed her thoughts and guessed what she was saying. Random proved the truth of his guess by, turning to him.
“Do you really want to take back the mummy to Peru, sir?” he asked quietly.
“Certainly. Inca Caxas was my forefather. I do not wish to leave him in this place. His body must be restored to its tomb. All the Indians, who look upon me as their present Inca expect me to bring the body back. Although,” added De Gayangos gravely, “I did not come to Europe to look for the mummy, as you know.”
“Then I shall buy the mummy,” said Random impetuously. “Professor, will you sell it to me?”
“Now that I have examined it thoroughly I shall be delighted,” said the little man, “say for two thousand pounds.”
“Not at all,” interposed Don Pedro; “you mean one thousand.”
“Of course he does,” said Lucy quickly; “and the check must be paid to Archie, Sir Frank.”
“To me! to me!” cried Braddock indignantly. “I insist.”
“The money belongs to Archie,” said Lucy obstinately. “You have seen what you desired to see, father and as Archie only lent you the money, it is only fair that he should have it again.”
“Oh, let the Professor have it,” said Hope good-naturedly.
“No! no! no!”
Random laughed.
“I shall make the check payable to you, Miss Kendal, and you can give it to whomsoever you choose,” he said; “and now, as everything has been settled so far, I suggest that we should retire.”
“Come to my rooms at the inn,” said Don Pedro, opening the door. “I have much to say to you. Good night, Professor; to-morrow let us go to Pierside and see if we cannot get at the truth.”
“And to-morrow,” cried Random, “I shall send the check, sir.”
When the company departed, Lucy had another wrangle with her father about the check. As Archie had gone away, she could speak freely, and pointed out that he was enjoying her mother's income and was about to marry Mrs. Jasher, who was rich.
“Therefore,” argued Lucy, “you certainly do not want to keep poor Archie's money.”
“He paid me that sum on condition that I consented to the wedding.”
“He did nothing of the sort,” she cried indignantly. “I am not going to be bought and sold in this manner. Archie lent you the money, and it must be returned. Don't force me to think you selfish, father.”
The upshot of the argument was that Lucy got her own way, and the Professor rather unwillingly agreed to part with the mummy and restore the thousand pounds. But he regretted doing so, as he wished to get all the money he could to go towards his proposed Egyptian expedition, and Mrs. Jasher's fortune, as he assured his step-daughter, was not so large as might be thought. However, Lucy overruled him, and retired to bed, congratulating herself that she would soon be able to marry Hope. She was beginning to grow a trifle weary of the Professor's selfish nature, and wondered how her mother had put up with it for so long.
Next day Braddock did not go with Don Pedro to Pierside, as he was very busy in his museum. The Peruvian went alone, and Archie, after a morning's work at his easel, sought out Widow Anne to ask questions. Lucy and Donna Inez paid an afternoon visit to Mrs. Jasher and found her in bed, as she had caught a mild sort of influenza. They expected to find Sir Frank here, but it seemed that he had not called. Thinking that he was detained by military business, the girls thought nothing more of his absence, although Donna Inez was somewhat downcast.
But Random was detained in his quarters by a letter which had arrived by the mid-day host, and which surprised him not a little. The postmark was London, and the writing, evidently a disguised hand, was almost illegible in its crudeness. The contents ran as follows, and it will be noticed that there is neither date nor address, and that it is written in the third person:
“If Sir Frank Random wants his character to be cleared and all suspicion of murder to be removed from him, he can be completely exonerated by the writer, if he will pay the same five thousand pounds. If Sir Frank Random is willing to do this, let him appoint a meeting-place in London, and the writer will send a messenger to receive the money and to hand over the proofs which will clear Sir Frank Random. If Sir Frank Random plays the writer false, or communicates with the police, proofs will be forthcoming which will prove him to be guilty of Sidney Bolton's death, and which will bring him to the scaffold without any chance of escape. A couple of lines in the Agony Column of The Daily Telegraph, signed `Artillery,' and appointing a meeting-place, will suffice; but beware of treachery.”
Mrs. Jasher's influenza proved to be very mild indeed.
When Donna Inez de Gayangos and Lucy paid a visit to her on the afternoon of the day succeeding the explanations in the museum, she was certainly in bed, and explained that she had been there since the Professor's visit on the previous day. Lucy was surprised at this, as she had left Mrs. Jasher perfectly well, and Braddock had not mentioned any ailment of the widow. But influenza, as Mrs. Jasher observed, was very rapid in its action, and she was always susceptible to disease from the fact that in Jamaica she had suffered from malaria. Still, she was feeling better and intended to rise from her bed on that evening, if only to lie on the couch in the pink drawing-room. Having thus detailed her reasons for being ill, the widow asked for news.
As no prohibition had been placed upon Lucy with regard to Hervey's visit and as Mrs. Jasher would be one of the family when she married the Professor, Miss Kendal had no hesitation in reporting all that had taken place. The narrative excited Mrs. Jasher, and she frequently interrupted with expressions of wonder. Even Donna Inez grew eloquent, and told the widow how she had defended Sir Frank against the American skipper.
“What a dreadfully wicked man!” said Mrs. Jasher, when in possession of all the facts. “I really believe that he did kill poor Sidney.”
“No,” said Lucy decisively, “I don't think that. He would have murdered him on board had he intended the crime, as he could have done so with more safety. He is as innocent as Sir Frank.”
“And no one dare say a word against him,” cried Donna Inez with flashing eyes.
“He has a good defender, my dear,” said the widow, patting the girl's hand.
“I love him,” said Donna Inez, as if that explained everything, and perhaps it did, so far as she was concerned.
Mrs. Jasher smiled indulgently, then turned for further information to Lucy.
“Can it be possible,” she said, “that Widow Anne is guilty?”
“Oh, I don't think so. She would not murder her own son, especially when she was so very fond of him. Archie told me, just before we came here, that he had called to see her. She still insists that Sidney borrowed the clothes, saying that Archie wanted them.”
“What do you make of that, my dear?”
“Well,” said Miss Kendal, pondering, “either Widow Anne herself was the woman who talked to Sidney through the Sailor's Rest window, and has invented this story to save herself, or Sidney did get the clothes and intended to use them as a disguise when he fled with the emeralds.”
“In that case,” said Mrs. Jasher, “the woman who talked through the window still remains a problem. Again, if Sidney Bolton intended to steal the emeralds, he could have done so in Malta, or on board the boat.”
“No,” said Lucy decisively. “The mummy was taken directly from the seller's house to the boat, and perhaps Sidney did not find the manuscript until he looked at the mummy. Then Captain Hervey kept an eye on Sidney, so that he could not open the mummy to steal the emeralds.”
“Still, according to your own showing, Sidney looked at the actual mummy—he opened the mummy case, that is, else he could not have got the manuscript.”
Lucy nodded.
“I think so, but of course we cannot be sure. But the packing case in which the mummy was stowed was placed in the hold of the steamer, and if Sidney had wished to steal the emeralds, he could not have done so without exciting Captain Hervey's suspicions.”
“Then let us say that Sidney robbed the mummy when in the Sailor's Rest, and took the clothes he borrowed from his mother in order to fly in disguise. But what of the woman?”
Lucy shook her head.
“I cannot tell. We may learn more later. Don Pedro has gone to Pierside to search, and my father says that he will send Cockatoo there also to search.”
“Well,” sighed Mrs. Jasher wearily, “I hope that all this trouble will come to an end. That green mummy has proved most unlucky. Leave me now, dear girls, as I feel somewhat tired.”
“Good-bye,” said Lucy, kissing her. “I hope that you will be better this evening. Don't get up unless you feel quite able.”
“Oh, I shall take my ease in the drawing-room.”
“I thought you always called it the parlor,” laughed the girl.
“Ah,” Mrs. Jasher smiled, “you see I am practicing against the time when I shall be mistress of the Pyramids, You can't call that large room there a parlor,” and she laughed weakly.
Altogether, Mrs. Jasher impressed both Lucy and Donna Inez with the fact that she was very weak and scarcely able, as she put it, to draw one leg after the other. Both the girls would have been surprised to see what a hearty meal Mrs. Jasher made that evening, when she was up and dressed. Perhaps she felt that her strength needed keeping up, but she certainly partook largely of the delicate dinner provided by Jane, who was a most excellent cook.
After dinner, Mrs. Jasher lay on a pink couch in the pink parlor by a splendid fire, for the night was cold and raw with a promise of rain. The widow had a small table at her elbow, on which stood a cup of coffee and a glass of liquor. The rose-colored curtains were drawn, the rose-shaded lamps were lighted, and the whole interior of the cottage looked very comfortable indeed. Mrs. Jasher, in a crocus-yellow tea-gown trimmed with rich black lace, reclined on her couch like Cleopatra in her barge. In the pink light she looked very well preserved, although her face wore an anxious expression. This was due to the fact that the mail had come in and the three letters brought by the postman had to do with creditors. Mrs. Jasher was always trying to make both ends meet, and had a hard struggle to keep her head above water. Certainly, since she had inherited the money of her brother, the Pekin merchant, she need not have looked so worried. But she did, and made no disguise of it, seeing that she was quite alone.
After a time she went to her desk and took out a bundle of bills and some other letters, also an account book and a bank book. Over these she pored for quite an hour. The clock struck nine before she looked up from this unpleasant task, and she found her financial position anything but satisfactory. With a weary sigh she rose and stared at herself in the mirror over the fireplace, frowning as she did so.
“Unless I can marry the Professor at once, I don't know what will happen to me,” she mused gloomily. “I have managed very well so far, but things are coming to a crisis. These devils,” she alluded to her creditors, “will not keep off much longer, and then the crash will come. I shall have to leave Gartley as poor as when I came, and there will be nothing left but the old nightmare life of despair and horror. I am getting older every day, and this is my last chance of getting married. I must force the Professor to have a speedy marriage. I must! I must!” and she began to pace the tiny room in a frenzy of terror and well-founded alarm.
As she was trying to calm herself and succeeding very badly, Jane entered the room with a card. It proved to be that of Sir Frank Random.
“It is rather a late hour for a visit,” said Mrs. Jasher to the servant. “However, I feel so bored, that perhaps he will cheer me up. Ask him to come in.”
When Jane left, she stood still for a moment or so, trying to think why the young man had called at so untoward an hour. But when his footsteps were heard approaching the door, she swept the books and the bills and the letters into the desk and locked it quickly. When Random appeared at the door, she was just leaving the desk to greet him, and no one would have taken the smiling, plump, well-preserved woman for the creature who lately had looked so haggard and careworn.
“I am glad to see you, Sir Frank,” said Mrs. Jasher, nodding in a familiar manner. “Sit down in this very comfortable chair, and Jane shall bring you some coffee and kummel.”
“No, thank you,” said Random in his usual stiff way, but very politely. “I have just left the mess, where I had a good dinner.”
Mrs. Jasher nodded, and sank again on the couch, which was opposite the chair which she had selected for her visitor.
“I see you are in mess kit,” she said gayly; “quite a glorified creature to appear in my poor little parlor. Why are you not with Donna Inez? I have heard all about your engagement from Lucy. She was here to-day with Senorita De Gayangos.”
“So I believe,” said Random, still stiffly; “but you see I was anxious to come and see you.”
“Ah!” said Mrs. Jasher equably, “you heard that I was ill. Yes; I have been in bed ever since yesterday afternoon, until a couple of hours ago. But I am now better. My dinner has done me good. Pass me that fan, please. The fire is so hot.”
Sir Frank did as he was told, and she held the feather fan between her face and the fire, while he stared at her, wondering what to say.
“Don't you find this atmosphere very stuffy?” he remarked at length. “It would be a good thing to have the windows open.”
Mrs. Jasher shrieked.
“My dear boy, are you mad? I have a touch of the influenza, and an open window would bring about my death. Why, this room is delightfully comfortable.”
“There is such a strong perfume about it,” sniffed Random pointedly.
“I should think you knew that scent by this time, Sir Frank. I use no other and never have done. Smell!” and she passed a flimsy handkerchief of lace.
Random took the handkerchief and placed it to his nostrils. As he did so a strange expression of triumph crept into his eyes.
“I think you told me once that it was a Chinese perfume,” he said, returning the handkerchief.
Mrs. Jasher nodded, well pleased.
“I get it from a friend of my late husband who is in the British Embassy at Pekin. No one uses it but me.”
“But surely some other person uses it?”
“Not in England; and I do not know why you should say so. It is a specialty of mine. Why,” she added playfully, “if you met me in the dark you should know me, by this scent.”
“Can you swear that no one else has ever used this perfume?” asked Random.
Mrs. Jasher lifted her penciled eyebrows.
“I do not know why you should ask me to swear,” she said quietly, “but I assure you that I keep this perfume which comes from China to myself. Not even Lucy Kendal has it, although she greatly desired some. We women are selfish in some things, my dear man. It's a most delicious perfume.”
“Yes,” said Sir Frank, staring at her, “and very strong.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Only I should think that such a perfume would be good for the cold you contracted by going to London last night.”
Mrs. Jasher turned suddenly pale under her rouge, and her hand clenched the fan so tightly as to break the handle.
“I have not been to London for quite a month,” she faltered. “What a strange remark!”
“A true one,” said the baronet, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket. “You went to London last night by the seven o'clock train to post this,” and he held out the anonymous letter.
The widow, now quite pale, and looking years older, sat up on the couch with a painful effort, which suggested old age.
“I don't understand,” she said, trying to speak calmly. “I was not in London, and I did not post any letter. If you came here to insult me—”
“There can be no insult in asking a few questions,” said Random, throwing aside his stiffness and speaking decisively. “I received this letter, which bears a London postmark, by the mid-day post. The handwriting is disguised, and there is neither address nor signature nor date. You manufactured your communication very cleverly, Mrs. Jasher, but you forgot that the Chinese perfume might betray you.”
“The perfume! the perfume!” Mrs. Jasher gasped and saw in a moment how the late conversation had led her to fall into a trap.
“The letter retains traces of the perfume you use,” went on the baronet relentlessly. “I have a remarkably keen sense of smell, and, as scent is a most powerful aid to memory, I speedily recollected that you used this especial perfume. You told me a few moments ago that no one else used it, and so you have proved the truth of my statement that this letter”—he tapped it—“is written by you.”
“It's a lie—a mistake,” stuttered Mrs. Jasher, now at bay and looking dangerous. Her society veneer was stripped off, and the adventuress pure and simple came to the surface.
Indignant at the way in which she had deceived everyone, and having much at stake, Random did not spare her.
“It is not a mistake,” he insisted; “neither is it a lie. When I became aware that you must have written the letter, I drove at once to Jessum to see if you had gone to London, as you had posted it there. I learned from the station master and from a porter that you went to town by the seven o'clock train and returned by the midnight.”
Mrs. Jasher leaped to her feet.
“They could not recognize me. I wore—” Then she stopped, confused at having so plainly betrayed herself.
“You wore a veil. All the same, Mrs. Jasher, you are too well known hereabouts for anyone to fail to recognize you. Besides, your remark just now proves that I am right. You wrote this blackmailing letter, and I demand an explanation.”
“I have none to give,” muttered the woman fiercely, and fighting every inch.
“If you refuse to explain to me you shall to the police,” said Sir Frank, rising and making for the door.
Mrs. Jasher flung herself forward and clung to him.
“For God's sake, don't!”
“Then you will explain? You will tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Who murdered Sidney Bolton.”
“I do not know. I swear I do not know,” she cried feverishly.
“That is ridiculous,” said Random coldly. “You say in this letter that you can hang me or save me. As you know that I am innocent, you must be aware who is guilty.”
“It's all bluff. I know nothing,” said Mrs. Jasher, releasing his arm and throwing herself on the couch. “I only wished to get money.”
“Five thousand pounds—eh? Rather a large order,” sneered Random, replacing the letter in his pocket. “You would not ask that sum for nothing: you must be aware of the truth. I suspected many people, Mrs. Jasher, but never you.”
The woman rose and flung out her arms.
“No,” she said in a deep voice, and fighting like a rat in a corner. “I tricked you all down here. Sir Frank, I will tell you the truth.”
“About the murder?”
“I know nothing of that. About myself.”
Random shrugged his shoulders.
“I'll hear about yourself first,” he said. “I can learn details concerning the murder later. Go on.”
“I know nothing of the murder or of the theft of the emeralds—”
“Yet you hid the mummy in this house, and afterwards placed it in your arbor to be found by the Professor, for some reason.”
“I know nothing about that either,” muttered Mrs. Jasher doggedly, and with very white lips. “That letter you have traced to me is all bluff.”
“Then you admit having written it?”
“Yes,” she said sullenly. “You know too much, and it is useless for me to deny the truth in the face of the evidence you bring against me. I would fight though,” she added, raising her head like a snake its crest, “if I was not sick and tired of fighting.”
“Fighting?”
“Yes, against trouble and worry and money difficulties and creditors. Oh,” she struck her breast, “what do you know of life, you rich, easy-going man? I have been in the depths, and not through my own fault. I had a bad mother, a bad husband. I was dragged in the mire by those who should have helped me to rise. I have starved for days; I have wept for years; in all God's earth there is no more miserable a creature than I am.”
“Kindly talk without so much melodrama,” said Random cruelly.
“Ah,” Mrs. Jasher sat down and locked her hands together, “you don't believe me. I daresay you don't understand, for life, real life, is a sealed book to you. It is useless for me to appeal to your sympathy, for you are so very ignorant. Let us stick to facts. What do you wish to know?”
“Who killed Sidney Bolton: who has the emeralds.”
“I can't tell you. Listen! With my past life you have nothing to do. I will commence from the time I came down here. I had just lost my husband, and I managed to scrape together a few hundred pounds—oh, quite in a respectable way, I assure you,” she added scoffingly, on seeing her listener wince. “I came here to try and live quietly, and, if possible, to secure a rich husband. I knew that the Fort was here and thought that I might marry an officer. However, the Professor's position attracted me, and I decided to marry him. I am engaged, and but for your cleverness in tracing that letter I should be Mrs. Braddock within a very short time. I have exhausted all my money. I am deeply, in debt. I cannot hold out longer.”
“But the money you inherited—”
“That is all bluff also. I never had a brother. I inherit no money. I know nothing of Pekin, save that a friend of mine sends that scent to me as a yearly Christmas present. I am an adventuress, but perhaps not so bad as you think me. Lucy and Donna Inez have heard no wickedness from my lips. I have always been a good woman in one sense—a moral woman, that is—and I did wish to marry the Professor and live a happy life. Seeing that I was at the end of my resources, and that Professor Braddock expected a legacy with me before marriage, I looked round to, see how I could get the money. I heard that you were accused by Captain Hervey, and so last night I wrote that letter and posted it in London, thinking that you would yield to save yourself from arrest.”
Random laughed cynically.
“You must have thought me weak,” he muttered.
“I did,” said Mrs. Jasher frankly. “To tell you the truth, I thought that you were a fool. But by tracing that letter and withstanding my demand, you have proved yourself to be more clever than I took you to be. Well, that is all. I know nothing of the murder. My letter is sheer bluff to extort from you five thousand pounds. Had you paid I should have passed it off to the Professor as the money left to me by my brother. But now—”
“Now,” said Random, rising to go, “I shall tell what you have told me to the Professor, and—”
“And hand me over to the police,” said Mrs. Jasher, shrugging her plump shoulders, “Well, I expected that. Yet I fancied for old times' sake that you might have been more lenient.”
“We were never anything but acquaintances, Mrs. Jasher,” said Random coldly, “so I fail to see why you should expect mercy after the way in which you have behaved. You expect to blackmail me, and yet go free. I must punish you somehow, so I shall tell Professor Braddock, as you certainly cannot marry him. But I shall not hand you over to the police.”
“You won't?” Mrs. Jasher stared, scarcely able to believe her ears.
“No. Give me a day to think over matters, and I shall arrange what to do with you. I think there is some good in you, Mrs. Jasher, and so I shall see if I can't assist you. In the meantime I shall have your cottage watched, so that you may not run away.”
“In that case, you may as well hand me over to the police,” she said bitterly.
“Not at all,” rejoined Random coolly. “I can trust my servant, who is stupid but honest and is devoted to me. I'll see that everything is kept quiet. But if you attempt to run away I shall have you arrested for blackmail. You understand?”
“Yes. You are treating me very well,” she gasped. “When shall I see you?”
“To-morrow evening. I must talk the matter over with Braddock. To-morrow I shall arrange what to do, and probably I shall give you a chance of leading a new life in some other part of the world. What do you say?”
“I accept. Indeed, there is nothing else left for me to do.”
“That is an ungrateful speech,” said Random severely.
“I daresay. However, we can talk of gratitude to-morrow. Meanwhile, please leave me.”
Sir Frank went to the door and there paused.
“Remember,” he said distinctly, “that your cottage is being watched. Try to escape and I shall have you arrested.”
Mrs. Jasher groaned and buried her face in the sofa cushion.