The Green Mummy Part 13

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Trouble! trouble! What particular trouble?"

"The death of your a.s.sistant."

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

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

"I should think you have," snapped Braddock, warming his plump hands.

"Every penny-a-liner has been talking about it. When did you return?"

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

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

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

"What reason?"

"The mummy--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Story! story! What story?"

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

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

"What place is that?"

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

Braddock stared.

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

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

"I question you," snapped Braddock angrily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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