The Green Mummy Part 11

"I require the services of the man," said Braddock stiffly. "As to you, sir: you've been paid for your business in connection with Bolton's pa.s.sage and the shipment of my mummy, so there is no more to be said."

"Heaps more! heaps, you bet," remarked the man of the sea placidly, and controlling a temper which in less civilized parts would have led him to wipe the floor with the plump scientist. "My owners were paid fur that racket: not me. No, sir. So I've paddled into this port to see if I can rake in a few dollars on my own."

"I've no dollars to give you--in charity, that is."

"Huh! An' who asked charity, you bald-headed jelly-bag?"

Braddock grew scarlet with fury. "If you speak to me like that, you ruffian, I'll throw you out."

"What?--you?"

"Yes, me," and the Professor stood on tip-toe, like the bantam he was.

"You make me smile, and likewise tired," murmured Hervey, admiring the little man's pluck. "See here, Professor, touching that mummy?"

"My mummy: my green mummy. What about it?" Braddock rose to the fly thrown by this skilful angler.

"That's so. What will you sh.e.l.l out if I pa.s.s along that corpse?"

"Ah!" The Professor again stood on tip-toe, gasping and purple in the face. He almost squeaked in the extremity of his anger. "I knew it."

"Knew what?" demanded the skipper, genuinely surprised.

"I knew that you had stolen my mummy. Yes, you needn't deny it. Bolton, like the silly fool he was, told you how valuable the mummy was, and you strangled the poor devil to get my property."

"Go slow," said the captain, in no wise perturbed by this accusation.

"I would have you remember that at the inquest it was stated that the window was locked and the door was open. How then could I waltz into that blamed hotel and arrange for a funeral? 'Sides, I guess shooting is mor'n my line than garrotting. I leave that to the East Coast Yellow-Stomachs."

Braddock sat down and wiped his face. He saw plainly enough that he had not a leg to stand on, as Hervey was plainly innocent.

"'Sides," went on the skipper, chewing his cheroot, "I guess if I'd wanted that old corpse of yours, I'd have yanked Bolton overside, and set down the accident to bad weather. Better fur me to loot the case aboard than to make a fool of myself ash.o.r.e. No, sir, H.H. don't run 'is own perticler private circus in that blamed way."

"H.H. Who the devil is H.H.?"

"Me, you bet. Hiram Hervey, citizen of the U.S.A. Nantucket neighborhood for home life. And see, don't you get m'hair riz, or I'll scalp."

"You can't scalp me," chuckled Braddock, pa.s.sing his hand over a very bald head. "See here, what do you want?"

"Name a price and I'll float round to get back your verdant corpse."

"I thought you were going to the South Seas?"

"In three months, pearl-fishing. Lots of time, I reckon, to run this old circus I want you to finance."

"Have you any suspicions?"

"No, 'sept I don't believe in that window business."

"What do you mean?" Braddock sat upright.

"Well," drawled the Yankee, "y'see, I interviewed the gal as told that perticler lie in court."

"Eliza Flight. Was it a lie she told?"

"Well, not exactly. The window was snibbed, but that was done after the chap who sent your pal to Kingdom Come had got out."

"Do you mean to say that the window was locked from the outside?" asked Braddock, and then, when Hervey nodded, he exclaimed "Impossible!"

"Narry an impossibility, you bet. The chap who engineered the circus was all-fired smart. The snib was an old one, and he yanked a piece of string round it, and pa.s.sed the string through the crack between the upper and lower sash of the window. When outside he pulled, and the snib slid into place. But he left the string on the ground outside. I picked it up nex' day and guessed the racket he'd been on. I tried the same business and brought off the deal."

"It sounds wonderful and yet impossible," cried Braddock, rubbing his bald head and walking excitedly to and fro. "See here, I'll come along with you and see how it's done."

"You bet you won't, unless you sh.e.l.l out. See here"--Hervey leaned forward--"from that window business it's plain that no one inside the shanty corpsed your pal. The chap as did it entered and left by the window, and made tracks with that old corp you want. Now you pa.s.s along five hundred pounds--that's English currency, I reckon--and I'll smell round for the robber."

"And where do you think I can obtain five hundred pounds?" asked the Professor very dryly.

"Well, I guess if that blamed corpse is worth it, you'll be willing to trade. Y'don't live in this shanty for nothing."

"My good friend, I have enough to live on, and obtain this house at a small rent on account of its isolation. But I can no more find the sum of five hundred pounds than fly."

Hervey rose and straightened his legs.

"Then I guess I'd best be getting back to Pierside."

"One moment, sir. Did anything happen on the voyage?--did Bolton say anything likely to lead you to suppose that he was in danger of being robbed and murdered?"

"No," said the skipper musingly, and pulling his goatee. "He told me that he had secured the old corpse, and was bringing it home to you. I didn't talk much to Bolton; he wasn't my style."

"Have you any idea who killed him?"

"No, I ain't."

"Then how do you propose to find the criminal who has the mummy?"

"You give me five hundred pounds and see," said Hervey coolly.

"I haven't got the money."

"Then I reckon you don't get the corpse. So long," and the skipper strolled towards the door. Braddock followed him.

"You have a clue?"

"No, I've got nothing; not even that five hundred pounds you make such a fuss over. It's a wasted day with H.H., I surmise. Wait!" He scribbled on a card and flung it across the room. "That's my Pierside address if you should change your blamed mind."

The Professor picked up the card. "The Sailor's Rest! What, are you stopping there?" Then, when Hervey nodded, he cried violently, "Why, I believe you have a clue, and stop at the hotel to follow it up."