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“But Random will come here as soon as he returns.”

“Very likely, but I can’t wait. I am anxious to hear what he has to say in his defense. Come, Cockatoo, my coat, my hat, my gloves. Stir yourself, you scoundrel!”

Archie was not unwilling to go, since he was anxious also to hear what Random would say to the absurd accusation brought against him by the Yankee. In a few minutes the two men were walking smartly down the road through the village, the Professor striving to keep up with Hope’s longer legs by trotting as hard as he could. Halfway down the village they met a trap, and in it Captain Hervey being driven to the Jessum railway station.

“Have you seen Don Pedro?” asked the Professor, stopping the vehicle.

“I reckon not,” answered Hervey stolidly. “He’s gone into Pierside to see the police. I’m off there also.”

“You had better come with us,” said Archie sternly; – “we are going to see Sir Frank Random.”

“Give him my respects,” said the skipper cold-bloodedly, “and say that he’s worth one hundred pounds to me,” he waved his hand and the trap moved away, but he looked back with a wry smile. “Say I’ll square the matter for double the money and command of his yacht.”

Braddock and Archie looked after the trap in disgust.

“What a scoundrel the man is!” said the Professor pettishly; “he’d sell his father for what he could get.”

“It shows how much his word is to be depended upon. I expect this accusation of Random is a put-up job.”

“I hope so, for Random’s sake,” said Braddock, trotting briskly along.

In a short time they arrived at the Fort and were informed that Sir Frank had not yet returned, but was expected back every moment. In the meanwhile, as Braddock and Hope were both extremely well known, they were shown into Random’s quarters, which were on the first floor. When the soldier-servant retired and the door was closed, Hope seated himself near the window, while Braddock trotted round, looking into things.

“It’s a dog kennel,” said the Professor. “I told Random that.”

“Perhaps we should have waited him in the mess,” suggested Archie.

“No! no! no! We couldn’t talk there, with a lot of silly young fools hanging about. I told Random that I would never enter the mess, so he invited me to come always to his quarters. He was in love with Lucy then,” chuckled the Professor, “and nothing was too good for me.”

“Not even the dog kennel,” said Hope dryly, for the Professor’s chatter was so rude as to be quite annoying.

“Pooh! pooh! pooh! Random doesn’t mind a joke. You, Hope, have no sense of humor. Your name is Scotch also. I believe you are a Caledonian.”

“I am nothing of the sort. I was born on this side of the border.”

“You might have been born at the North Pole for all I care,” said the little man politely. “I don’t like artists: they are usually silly. I wish Lucy had married a man of science. Now don’t talk rubbish. I know what you are going to say.”

“Well,” said Archie, humoring him, “what am I going to say?”

This non-plussed the irritable savant.

“Hum! Hum! hum! I don’t know and don’t care. Pouf! How hot this room is! What a number of books of travel Random has!” Braddock was now at the bookcase, which consisted of shelves swung by cords against the wall.

“Random travels a great deal,” Archie reminded him.

“Quite so: quite so. Wastes his money on that silly yacht. But he hasn’t traveled in South America. I expect he’s going there. Come here, Hope, and see the many, many books about Peru and Chili and Brazil. There must be a dozen, and all library books too.”

Archie sauntered towards the shelves.

“I expect Random is getting up the subject of South America, so as to talk to Donna Inez.”

“Probably! probably!” snapped Braddock, pulling several of the books out of place. “Why, there isn’t a – Ah, dear me! What a catastrophe!”

He might well say so, for in his desire to examine the books, they all tipped off the shelves and lay in a disorderly heap on the floor. Hope began to pick them up and replace them, and so did the author of the mischief. Among the books were several papers scribbled with notes, and Braddock bundled these all in a heap.. Shortly, he caught sight of the writing on one.

“Hullo! Latin,” said he, and read a line or two. “Oh!” he gasped, “Hope! Hope! The manuscript of Don Pedro!”

“Impossible!”

Archie rose and stared at the discolored paper.

“Sorry to have kept you,” said Random, entering at this moment.

“You villain!” shouted Braddock furiously, “so you are guilty after all?”

CHAPTER XVII. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE

Random was so taken aback by the fierce accusation of the Professor that he stood suddenly still at the door, and did not advance into the room. Yet he did not look so much afraid as puzzled. Whatever Braddock might have thought, Hope, from the expression on the young soldier’s face, was more than ever satisfied of his innocence.

“What are you talking about, Professor?” asked Random, genuinely surprised.

“You know well enough,” retorted the Professor.

“Upon my word I don’t,” said the other, walking into the room and unbuckling his sword. “I find you here, with the contents of my bookcase on the floor, and you promptly accuse me of being guilty. Of what, I should like to know? Perhaps you can tell me Hope.”

“There is no need for Hope to tell you, sir. You are perfectly well aware of your own villainy.”

Random frowned.

“I allow a certain amount of latitude to my guests, Professor,” he said with marked dignity, “but for a man of your age and position you go too far. Be more explicit.”

“Allow me to speak,” intervened Archie, anticipating Braddock. “Random, the Professor has just had a visit from Captain Hiram Hervey, who was the skipper of The Diver. He accuses you of having murdered Bolton!”

“What?” the baronet started back, looking thunderstruck.

“Wait a moment. I have not finished yet. Hervey accuses you of this murder, of stealing the mummy, of gaining possession of the emeralds, and of placing the rifled corpse in Mrs. Jasher’s garden, so that she might be accused of committing the crime.”

“Exactly,” cried Braddock, seeing that his host remained silent from sheer surprise. “Hope has stated the case very clearly. Now, sir, your defense?”

“Defense! defense!” Random found his tongue at last and spoke indignantly. “I have no defense to make.”

“Ah! Then you acknowledge your guilt?”

“I acknowledge nothing. The accusation is too preposterous for any denial to be necessary. Do you believe this of me?” He looked from one to the other.

“I don’t,” said Archie quickly, “there is some mistake.”

“Thank you, Hope. And you, Professor?”

Braddock fidgeted about the room.

“I don’t know what to think,” he said at length. “Hervey spoke very decisively.”

“Oh, indeed,” returned Random dryly, and, walking to the door, he locked it. “In that case, I must ask you for an explanation, and neither of you shall leave this room until one is given. Your proofs?”

“Here is one of them,” snapped Braddock, throwing the manuscript on the table. “Where did you get this?”

Random took up the discolored paper with a bewildered air.

“I never set eyes on this before,” he said, much puzzled. “What is it?”

“A copy of the manuscript mentioned by Don Pedro, which describes the two emeralds buried with the mummy of Inca Caxas.”

“I see.” Random understood all in a moment. “So you say that I knew of the emeralds from this, and so murdered Bolton to obtain them.”

“Pardon me,” said Braddock with elaborate politeness. “Hervey says that you murdered my poor assistant, and although my discovery of this manuscript proves that you must have known about the jewels, I say nothing. I wait to hear your defense.”

“That’s very good of you,” remarked Sir Frank ironically. “So it seems that I am in the dock. Perhaps the counsel for the prosecution will state the evidence against me,” and he looked again from one to the other.

Archie shook the baronet by the hand very warmly.

“My dear fellow,” he declared decidedly, “I don’t believe one word of the evidence.”

“In that case there must be a flaw in it,” retorted Random, but did not seem to be unmoved by Hope’s generous action. “Sit down, Professor; it appears that you are against me.”

“Until I hear your defense,” said the old man obstinately.

“I cannot make any until I hear your evidence. Go on. I am waiting,” and Sir Frank flung himself into a chair, where he sat calmly, his eyes steadily fixed on the Professor’s face.

“Where did you get that manuscript?” asked Braddock sharply.

“I got it nowhere: this is the first time I have seen it.”

“Yet it was hidden amongst your books.”

“Then I can’t say how it got there. Were you looking for it?”

“No! Certainly not. To pass the time while waiting, I examined your library, and in pulling out a book, your case, being a swing one, over-balanced and shot its contents on to the floor. Amongst the papers which fell with the books, I caught a glimpse of the manuscript, and, noting that it was written in Latin, I picked it up, surprised to think that a frivolous young man, such as you are, should study a dead language. A few words showed me that the manuscript was a copy of the one referred to by Don Pedro.”

“One moment,” said Archie, who had been thinking. “Perhaps this is the original manuscript, which De Gayangos has given to you, Random.”

“It is good of you to afford me a loophole of escape,” said Sir Frank, leaning back with folded arms, “but De Gayangos gave me nothing. I saw the manuscript in his hands, when he showed it to us all at Mrs. Jasher’s. But whether this is the original or a copy I can’t say. Don Pedro certainly did not give it to me.”

“Has Don Pedro been in your quarters?” asked Hope thoughtfully.

“No. He has only visited me in the mess. And even if Don Pedro did come in here – for I guess what is in your mind – I really do not see why he should slip a manuscript which he values highly amongst my books.”

“Then you really never saw this before?” said Braddock, indicating the paper on the table, and impressed by Random’s earnestness.

“How often do you want me to deny it?” retorted the young man impatiently. “Perhaps you will state on what grounds I am accused?”

Braddock nodded and cleared his throat.

“Captain Hervey declared that your yacht arrived at Pierside almost at the same time as his steamer.”

“Quite right. When Don Pedro received a wire from Malta stating that the mummy had been sold to you, and that it was being shipped to London on The Diver, I got up steam at once, and chased the tramp to that port. As the tramp was slow, and my boat was fast, I arrived on the same day and almost at the same hour, even though Hervey’s boat had the start of mine.”

“Why were you anxious to follow The Diver?” asked Hope.

“Don Pedro wished to get back the mummy, and asked me to follow. As I was in love with Donna Inez, and still am, I was only too willing to oblige him.”

Braddock nodded again.

“Hervey says that you went on board The Diver, and had an interview with Bolton.”

“That is perfectly true, and my visit was paid for the same reason as I followed the steamer to London – that is, I acted on behalf of Don Pedro. I wished to ascertain for certain that the mummy was on board, and having done so from Bolton, I urged him to induce you to give back the same, free of charge, to De Gayangos, from whom it had been stolen. He refused, as he declared that he intended to deliver it to you.”

“I knew I could always trust Bolton,” said the Professor enthusiastically. “It would have been better for you to have come to me, Random.”

“I daresay; but I wished, as I told you, to make certain that the mummy was on board. That was the real reason for my visit; but, being in Bolton’s company, I naturally told him that Don Pedro claimed the mummy as his property, and warned him that if you or he kept the same, that there would be trouble.”

“Did you use threats?” asked Hope, remembering what he had overheard.

“No; certainly not.”

“Yes, you did,” cried Braddock quickly. “Hervey declares that you told Bolton that he would repent of keeping the mummy, and that his life would not be safe while he held it.”

To the surprise of both visitors, Random admitted using these serious threats without a moment’s hesitation.

“Don Pedro told me that many Indians, both in Lima and Cuzco, who look upon him as the lawful descendant of the last Inca, are anxiously expecting the return of the royal mummy. He also stated that when the Indians knew who held the mummy they would send one of themselves to get it back, if he – Don Pedro, that is – did not fetch it. To get back the mummy Don Pedro declared that these Indians would not stop short of murder. Hence my warning to Bolton.”

“Oh!” Archie jumped up with widely opened eyes. “Then perhaps this solves the problem. Bolton was murdered by some Peruvian Indian.”

Random shook his head gravely.

“Again you offer me a loophole of escape, my dear fellow,” he said sententiously, “but that theory will not hold water. At present the Indians in Lima and Cuzco do not know that the mummy has been found. Don Pedro only chanced upon the paper which announced the sale by accident and had no time to communicate with his barbaric friends in South America. Failing to get the mummy from you, Professor, he would have returned to Peru and then would have told who possessed the corpse of Inca Caxas, leaving the Indians to deal with the matter. In that case my warning to Bolton would be necessary. But at the time I told him, it was not necessary. However, Bolton remained true to you, Professor, and declined to surrender the mummy. I therefore wired to Don Pedro at Genoa that the mummy was on board The Diver and was being sent to Gartley. I also advised him to come to me here in order to be introduced to you. The rest you know.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Archie, to test if Random was willing to admit everything – as an innocent man certainly would – asked significantly,

“Did you see Bolton again after your interview on board ship?”

It was then that the baronet proved his good faith.

“Oh, yes,” he said easily and without hesitation. “I was walking about Pierside later, and, passing along that waterside alley near the Sailor’s Rest, I saw a window on the ground floor open, and Bolton looking out across the river. I stopped and asked him when he proposed to take the mummy to Gartley, and if it was on shore. He admitted that it was in the hotel, but declined to say when he would send it on to you, Professor. When he closed the window, I afterwards went into the hotel and had a drink in order to ask casually when Mr. Bolton intended to leave. I gathered – not directly, of course, but in a roundabout way – that he had arranged to go next morning and to send on his luggage. Then I left and went to London. In the course of time I returned here and learned of the murder and the disappearance of the corpse of Inca Caxas. And now,” Random stood up, “having admitted all this, perhaps you will believe me to be innocent.”

“You have no idea who murdered Bolton and placed his body in the packing case?” asked Braddock, manifestly disappointed.

“‘No. No more than I have any idea of the person who placed the mummy case and its contents in Mrs. Jasher’s garden.”

“Oh, you know that!” said Archie quickly.

“Yes. The news was all over the village this morning. I could hardly help knowing it. And I believe that the mummy has been taken to your house, Professor.”

“It has,” admitted Braddock dryly. “I took it myself from Mrs. Jasher’s arbor in a hand-cart, with the assistance of Cockatoo. But when I made an examination this morning in the presence of Hope and Don Pedro, I found that the swathings of the body had been ripped up, and that the emeralds mentioned in that manuscript had been stolen.”

“Strange!” said Random with a frown; “and by whom?”

“No doubt by the assassin of Sidney Bolton.”

“Probably.” Random kicked a mat straight with his foot. “At any rate the theft of the emeralds shows that it was not any Indian who killed Bolton. None of them would rifle so sacred a corpse.”

“Besides which – as you say – the Indians in Peru do not know that the mummy has reappeared after thirty years’ seclusion,” chimed in Hope, rising. “Well, and what is to be done now?”

For answer Sir Frank picked up the manuscript which still remained on the table.

“I shall see Don Pedro about this,” he said quietly, “and ascertain if it is the original or a copy.”

Braddock rose slowly and stared at the paper.

“Do you know Latin?” he asked.

“No,” rejoined Random, knowing what the savant meant. “I learned it, of course, but I have forgotten much. I might translate a word or two, but certainly not the hedge-priest Latin in which this is written.” He looked carefully at the manuscript as he spoke.

“But who could have placed it in your room?” questioned Archie.

“We cannot learn that until we see Don Pedro. If this is the original manuscript which we saw the other night, we may learn how it passed from the possession of De Gayangos to my bookcase. If it is a copy, then we must learn, if possible, who owned it.”

“Don Pedro said that a transcript or a translation had been made,” mentioned Hope.

“Evidently a transcript,” said Braddock, glaring at the paper in Random’s hand. “But how could that find its way from Lima to this place?”

“It might have been packed up with the mummy,” suggested Archie.

“No,” contradicted Random decisively, “in that event, the man in Malta from whom the mummy was bought would have discovered the emeralds, and would have taken them.”

“Perhaps he did. We have nothing to show that Bolton’s assassin committed the crime for the sake of the jewels.”

“He must have done so,” cried the Professor, irritably, “else there is no motive for the commission of the crime. But I think myself that we must start at the other end to find a clue. When we discover who placed the mummy in Mrs. Jasher’s garden – ”

“That will not be easy,” murmured Hope thoughtfully, “though, of course, the same must have been brought by river. Let us go down to the embankment and see if there are any signs of a boat having been brought there last night,” and he moved to the door. “Random?”

“I cannot leave the Fort, as I am on duty,” replied the officer, putting the manuscript away in a drawer and locking the same, “but this evening I shall see Don Pedro, and in the meanwhile I shall endeavor to learn from my servant who visited me lately while I was absent. The manuscript must have been brought here by someone. But I trust,” he added as he escorted his two visitors to the door, “that you now acquit me of – ”

“Yes! yes! yes!” cried Braddock, hastily cutting him short and shaking his hand. “I apologize for my suspicions. Now I maintain that you are innocent.”

“And I never believed you to be guilty,” cried Hope heartily.

“Thank you both,” said Random simply, and, having closed the door, he returned to a chair near the fire to smoke a pipe, and meditate over his future movements. “An enemy hath done this,” said Random, referring to the concealment of the manuscript, but he could think of no one who desired to harm him in any way.

CHAPTER XVIII. RECOGNITION

Lucy and Mrs. Jasher were having a confidential conversation in the small pink drawing-room. True to her promise, Miss Kendal had come to readjust matters between the fiery little Professor and the widow. But it was not an easy task, as Mrs. Jasher was righteously indignant at the rash words used to her.

“As if I knew anything about the matter,” she repeated again and again in angry tones. “Why, my dear, he as good as told me I had murdered – ”

Lucy did not let her finish.

“There! there!” she said, speaking as she would have done to a fretful child, “you know what my father is.”

“It seems to me that I am just beginning to learn,” said the widow bitterly, “and knowing how ready he is to believe ill of me, I think it is better we should part for ever.”

“But you’ll never be Lady Braddock.”

“Even if I married him, I am not sure that I should be, since I learn that his brother is singularly healthy and comes of a long-lived family. And it will not be pleasant to live with your father when he has such a temper.”

“That was only because he was excited. Think of your salon, and of the position you wish to hold in, London.”

“Ah, well,” said Mrs. Jasher, visibly softening, “there is something to be said there. After all, one can never find a man who is perfection. And a very amiable man is usually a fool. One can’t expect a rose to be without thorns. But really, my dear,” she surveyed Lucy with mild surprise, “you appear to be very anxious that I should marry your father.”

“I want to see my father made comfortable before I marry Archie,” said the girl with a blush. “Of course my father is quite a child in household affairs and needs everything done for him. Archie – I am glad to say – is now in a position to marry me in the spring. I want you to be married about the same time, and then you can live in Gartley, and – ”

“No, my dear,” said Mrs. Jasher firmly, “if I marry your father, he wishes us to go at once to Egypt in search of this tomb.”

“I know that he wants you to help with the money left to you by your late brother. But surely you will not go up the Nile yourself?”

“No, certainly not,” said the widow promptly. “I shall remain in Cairo while the Professor goes on his excursion into Ethiopia. I know that Cairo is a very charming place, and that I shall be able to enjoy myself there.”

“Then you have decided to forgive my father for his rash words?”

“I must,” sighed Mrs. Jasher. “I am so tired of being an unprotected widow without a recognized position in the world. Even with my brother’s money, – not that it is so very much – I shall still be looked upon askance if I go into society. But as Mrs. Braddock, or Lady Braddock, no one will dare to say a word against me. Yes, my dear, if your father comes and, asks my pardon he shall have it. We women are so weak,” ended the widow virtuously, as if she was not making a virtue of necessity.

Things being thus settled, the two talked on amiably for some time, and discussed the chances of Random marrying Donna Inez. Both acknowledged that the Peruvian lady was handsome enough, but had not a word to say for herself.

While thus chattering, Professor Braddock trotted into the room, looking brisk and bright from his stroll in the cold frosty air. Gifted as he was with scientific assurance, the little man was not at all taken aback by the cold reception of Mrs. Jasher, but rubbed his hands cheerfully.

“Ah, there you are, Selina,” said he, looking like a bright-eyed robin. “I hope you are feeling well.”

“How can you expect me to feel well after what you said?” remarked Mrs. Jasher reproachfully, and anxious to make a virtue of forgiveness.

“Oh, I beg pardon: I beg pardon. Surely, Selina, you are not going to make a fuss over a trifle like that?”

“I did not give you permission to call me Selina.”

“Quite so. But as we are to be married, I may as well get used to your Christian name, my dear.”

“I am not so sure that we will be married,” said Mrs. Jasher stiffly.

“Oh, but we must,” cried Braddock in dismay. “I am depending upon your money to finance my expedition to Queen Tahoser’s tomb.”

“I see,” observed the widow coldly, while Lucy sat quietly by and allowed the elder woman to conduct the campaign, “you want me for my money. There is no love in the question.”

“My dear, as soon as I have the time – say during our voyage to Cairo, whence we start inland up the Nile for Ethiopia – I shall make love whenever you like. And, confound it, Selina, I admire you no end – to use a slang phrase. You are a fine woman and a sensible woman, and I am afraid that you are throwing yourself away on a snuffy old man like myself.”

“Oh no! no! Pray do not say that,” cried Mrs. Jasher, visibly moved by this flattery. “You will make a very good husband if you will only strive to govern your temper.”

“Temper! temper! Bless the woman – I mean you, Selina – I have the very best temper in the world. However, you shall govern it and myself also if you like. Come,” he took her hand, “let us be friends and fix the wedding day.”

Mrs. Jasher did not withdraw her hand.

“Then you do not believe that I have anything to do with this terrible murder?” she asked playfully.

“No! no! I was heated last night. I spoke rashly and hastily. Forgive and forget, Selina. You are innocent – quite innocent, in spite of the mummy being in your confounded garden. After all, the evidence is stronger against Random than against you. Perhaps he put it there: it’s on his way to the Fort, you see. Never mind. He has exonerated himself, and no doubt, when confronted with Hervey, will be able to silence that blackguard. And I am quite sure that Hervey is a blackguard,” ended Braddock, rubbing his bald head.

The two ladies looked at one another in amazement, not knowing what to say. They were ignorant of the theft of the emeralds and of the accusation of Sir Frank by the Yankee skipper. But, with his usual absentmindedness, Braddock had forgotten all about that, and sat in his chair rubbing his head quite pink and rattling on cheerfully.

“I went down with Hope to the embankment,” he continued, “but neither of us could see any sign of a boat. There’s the rude, short jetty, of course, and if a boat came, a boat could go away without leaving any trace. Perhaps that is so. However, we must wait until we see Don Pedro and Hervey again, and then – ”

Lucy broke in desperately.

“What are you talking about, father? Why do you bring in Sir Frank’s name in that way?”

“What do you expect me to say?” retorted the little man. “After all, the manuscript was found in his room, and the emeralds are gone. I saw that for myself, as did Hope and Don Pedro, in whose presence I opened the mummy case.”

Mrs. Jasher rose in her astonishment.

“Are the emeralds gone?” she gasped.

“Yes! yes! yes!” cried Braddock irritably. “Am I not telling you so? I almost believe in Hervey’s accusation of Random, and yet the boy exonerated himself very forcibly – very forcibly indeed.”

“Will you explain all that has happened, father?” said Lucy, who was becoming more and more perplexed by this rambling chatter. “We are quite in the dark.”

“So am I: so is Hope: so is every one,” chuckled Braddock. “Ah, yes: of course, you were not present when these events took place.”

“What events? – what events?” demanded Mrs. Jasher, now quite exasperated.

“I am about to tell you,” snapped her future husband, and related all that had taken place since the arrival of Captain Hervey in the museum at the Pyramids. The women listened with interest and with growing astonishment, only interrupting the narrator with a simultaneous exclamation of indignation when they heard that Sir Frank was accused.

“It is utterly and wholly absurd,” cried Lucy angrily. “Sir Frank is the soul of honor.”

“So I think, my dear,” chimed in Mrs. Jasher. “And what does he say to – ?”

Braddock interrupted.

“I am about to tell you, if you will stop talking,” he cried crossly. “That is so like a woman. She asks for an explanation and then prevents the man from giving it. Random offers a very good defense, I am bound to say,” and he detailed what Sir Frank had said.

When the history was finished, Lucy rose to go.

“I shall see Archie at once,” she said, moving hastily, towards the door.

“What for?” demanded her father benignly.

Lucy turned.

“This thing can’t go on,” she declared resolutely. “Mrs. Jasher was accused by you, father – ”

“Only in a heated moment,” cried the Professor, excusing himself.

“Never mind, she was accused,” retorted Lucy stubbornly, “and now this sailor accuses Sir Frank. Who knows who will be charged next with committing the crime? I shall ask Archie to take the matter up, and hunt down the real criminal. Until the guilty person is found, I foresee that we shall never have a moment’s peace.”

“I quite agree with you,” said Mrs. Jasher earnestly. “For my own sake I wish the matter of this mystery to be cleared up. Why don’t you help me?” she added, turning to Braddock, who listened placidly.

“I am helping,” said Braddock quietly. “I intend to set Cockatoo on the trail at once. He shall take up his abode in the Sailor’s Rest on some pretext, and no doubt will be able to find a clue.”

“What?” cried the widow incredulously, “a savage like that?”

“Cockatoo is much cleverer than the average white man,” said Braddock dryly, “especially in following a trail. He, if any one, will learn the truth. I would much rather trust the Kanaka than young Hope.”

“Nonsense!” cried Lucy, standing up for her lover. “Archie is the one to discover the assassin. I’ll see him at once. And you, father?”

“I, my dear,” said the Professor calmly, “shall remain here and make my peace with the future Mrs. Braddock.”

“You have made it already,” said the widow graciously, and extended her hand, which the Professor kissed unexpectedly, and then sat back in his chair, looking quite abashed at his outburst of gallantry.

Seeing that everything was going well, Lucy left the elderly couple to continue their courting, and hurried to Archie’s lodgings in the village. However, he happened to be out, and his landlady did not know when he would return. Rather annoyed by this, since she greatly desired to unbosom herself, Miss Kendal walked disconsolately towards the Pyramids. On the way she was stopped by Widow Anne, looking more dismal and funereal than ever, and garrulous with copious draughts of gin. Not that she was intoxicated, but her tongue was loose, and she wept freely for no apparent reason. According to herself, she had stopped Lucy to demand back from Mr. Hope through the girl certain articles of attire which had been borrowed for artistic purposes. These, consisting of a shawl and a skirt and a bodice, were of extraordinary value, and Mrs. Bolton wanted them back or their equivalent in value. She mentioned that she would prefer the sum of five pounds.

“Why do you not ask Mr. Hope yourself?” said Lucy who was too impatient to bear with the old creature’s maunderings. “If you gave him the things he will no doubt return them.”