The Green Mummy - Fergus Hume (best love novels of all time txt) 📗
- Author: Fergus Hume
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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.
“To think,” said Hervey, addressing the mummy, “that you were on board my boat, and I never looted you.”
“What!” Braddock stamped. “Would you have committed theft?”
“Theft be hanged!” was the reply. “It ain’t thieving to loot the dead. I guess a corpse hasn’t got any use for jewels. You bet I’d have gummed straightways onto that mummy, when I brought it from Malta in the old Diver, had I known it was a jeweler’s shop of sorts. Huh! Two emeralds, and I never knew. I could kick myself.”
“You are a blackguard,” gasped the astonished Professor.
“Oh, shucks!” was the elegant retort, “give it a rest. I’m no worse than that dandy gentleman who added murder to stealing, anyhow.”
“Ah!” Braddock bounded off his chair like an india-rubber ball, “you said that you knew who had committed the murder.”
“Wal,” drawled Hervey again, “I do and I don’t. That is I suspect, but I can’t swear to the business before a judge.”
“Who killed Bolton?” asked the Professor furiously. “Tell me at once.”
“Not me, unless it’s made worth my while.”
“It will be, by Don Pedro.”
“That yellow-stomach. What’s he got to do with it?”
“I have just told you the mummy belongs to him; he came to Europe to find it. He wants the emeralds, and intends to offer a reward of one hundred pounds for the discovery of the assassin.”
Hervey arose briskly.
“I’m right on the job,” said he, sauntering to the door. “I’ll go to that old inn of yours, where you say the Don’s stopping, and look him up. Guess I’ll trade.”
“But who killed Bolton?” asked Braddock, running to the door and gripping Hervey by his coat.
The mariner looked down on the anxious face of the plump little man with a grim smile.
“I can tell you,” said he, “as you can’t figure out the business, unless I’m on the racket. No, sir; I’m the white boy in thin circus.”
The Professor shook the lean sailor in his anxiety.
“Who is he?”
“That almighty aristocrat that came on board my ship, when I lay in the Thames on the very afternoon I arrived with Bolton.”
“Who do you mean?” demanded Braddock, more and more perplexed.
“Sir Frank Random.”
“What! did he kill Bolton and steal my mummy?”
“And hide it in that garden on his way to the Fort? I guess he did.”
The Professor sat down and closed his eyes with horror. When he opened them again, Hervey was gone.
But the Processor was not going to let Captain Hervey escape without giving him full information. Before the Yankee skipper could reach the front door, Braddock was at his heels, gasping and blowing like a grampus.
“Come back, come back. Tell me all.”
“I reckon not,” rejoined the mariner, removing Braddock’s grip. “You ain’t the one to give the money. I’ll go to the Don, or to Inspector Date of Pierside.”
“But Sir Frank must be innocent,” insisted Braddock.
“He’s got to prove it,” was the dry response. “Let me go.”
“No. You must tell me on what grounds - “
“Oh, the devil take you!” said Hervey hastily, and sat down on one of the hall chairs. “It’s this way, since you won’t let me skip until I tell you. This almighty aristocrat came to Pierside on the same afternoon as I cast, anchor. While Bolton was on board, he looked in to have a yarn of sorts.”
“What about?”
“Now, how in creation should I know?” snapped the skipper. “I wasn’t on hand, as I’d enough to do with unloading cargo. But his lordship went with Bolton to the state-room, and they talked for half an hour. When they came out, I saw that his lordship had his hair riz, and heard him saying things to Bolton.”
“What sort of things?”
“Well, for one, he said, `You’ll repent of this,’ and then again, `Your life isn’t safe while you keep it.’”
“Meaning the mummy?”
“I reckon that’s so, unless I am mistaken,” said Hervey serenely.
“Why didn’t you go to th, police with this information?”
“Me? Not much. Why, I saw no way of making dollars. And then, again, I did not think of putting things together, until I found that his lorship “
“Meaning Sir Frank,” interpolated the Professor, frowning.
“I’m talking Queen’s, or King’s, or Republican lingo, I guess, and I do mean his lorship,” said the skipper dryly - “until I found that his lorship had been in the public-house where the crime was committed.”
“The Sailor’s Rest? When did he go there?”
“In the evening. After his talk with Bolton, and after a row - as they both seemed to have their hair off - he skipped over the side and went back to his yacht, which wasn’t far away. Bolton took his blamed mummy ashore and got fixed at the Sailor’s Rest. I gathered afterwards, from the second mate of The Diver (which ain’t my ship now), that his lorship came into the hotel and had a drink. Afterwards my second mate saw him talking to Bolton through the window.”
“In the same place as the woman talked?’ questioned the Professor.
“That’s so, only it was later in the evening that the woman came along to give chin-music through the window. I am bound to say,” added the captain generously, “that no one I can place my hand on saw his lorship loafing about the hotel after dark. But what of that? He may have laid his plans, and arranged for the corpse to be found later, in that blamed packing case.”
“Is this all your evidence?”
“It’s enough, I guess.”
“Not to procure a warrant.”
“Why, a man in the States would be electrocuted on half the evidence.”
“I daresay,” retorted the little man with contempt, “but we are in a land where justice of the purest prevails. All your evidence is circumstantial. It proves nothing.”
The captain was considerably nettled.
“I calculate that it proves Sir Frank wanted the mummy, else why did he come on board my ship to see your infernal assistant. The words he used showed that he was warning Bolton how he’d do
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