Three days went by, and Professor Braddock still remained absent in
London, although an occasional letter to Lucy requested such and such an
article from the museum to be forwarded, sometimes by post and on other
occasions by Cockatoo, who traveled up to town especially. The Kanaka
always returned with the news that his master was looking well, but
brought no word of the Professor's return. Lucy was not surprised, as
she was accustomed to Braddock's vagaries.
Meanwhile Don Pedro, comfortably established at the Warrior Inn,
wandered about Gartley in his dignified way, taking very little interest
in the village, but a great deal in the Pyramids. As the Professor was
absent, Lucy could not ask him to dinner, but she did invite him and
Donna Inez to afternoon tea. Don Pedro was anxious to peep into the
museum, but Cockatoo absolutely refused to let him enter, saying that
his master had forbidden anyone to view the collection during his
absence. And in this refusal Cockatoo was supported by Miss Kendal, who
had a wholesome dread of her step-father's rage, should he return and
find that a stranger had been making free of his sacred apartments. The
Peruvian gentleman expressed himself extremely disappointed, so much
so, indeed, that Lucy fancied he believed Braddock had the green mummy
hidden in the museum, in spite of the reported loss from the Sailor's
Rest.
Failing to get permission to range through the rooms of the Pyramids,
Don Pedro paid occasional visits to Pierside and questioned the police
regarding the Bolton murder. From Inspector Date he learned nothing of
any importance, and indeed that officer expressed his belief that not
until the Day of judgment would the truth become known. It then occurred
to De Gayangos to explore the neighborhood of the Sailor's Rest, and
to examine that public-house himself. He saw the famous window through
which the mysterious woman had talked to the deceased, and noted that
it looked across a stony, narrow path to the water's edge, wherefrom a
rugged jetty ran out into the stream for some little distance. Nothing
would have been easier, reflected Don Pedro, than for the assassin to
enter by the window, and, having accomplished his deed, to leave in the
same way, bearing the case containing the mummy. A few steps would carry
the man and his burden to a waiting boat, and once the craft slipped
into the mists on the river, all trace would be lost, as had truly
happened. In this way the Peruvian gentleman believed the murder and the
theft had been accomplished, but even supposing things had happened as
he surmised, still, he was as far as ever from unraveling the mystery.
While Don Pedro searched for his royal ancestor's corpse, and
incidentally for the thief and murderer, his daughter was being wooed by
Sir Frank Random. Heaven only knows what he saw in her--as Lucy observed
to young Hope--for the girl had not a word to say for herself. She was
undeniably handsome, and dressed with great taste, save for stray
hints of barbaric delight in color, doubtless inherited from her Inca
ancestors. All the same, she appeared to be devoid of small talk or
great talk, or any talk whatsoever. She sat and smiled and looked like
a handsome picture, but after her appearance had satisfied the eye,
she left much to be desired. Yet Sir Frank approved of her stately
quietness, and seemed anxious to make her his wife. Lucy, in spite of
the fact that he had so speedily got over her refusal to marry him, was
anxious that he should be happy with Donna Inez, whom he appeared to
love, and afforded him every opportunity of meeting the lady, so that
he might prosecute his wooing. All the same, she wondered that he should
desire to marry an iceberg, and Donna Inez, with her silent tongue and
cold smiles, was little else. However, as Frank Random was the
chief party concerned in the love-making--for Donna Inez was merely
passive--there was no more to be said.
Sometimes Hope came to dine at the Pyramids, and on these occasions
Mrs. Jasher was present in her character of chaperon. As Miss Kendal was
helping the widow to marry Professor Braddock, she in her turn did her
best to speed Archie's wooing. Certainly the young couple were engaged
and there was no understanding to be brought about. Nevertheless, Mrs.
Jasher was a useful article of furniture to be in the room when they
were together, for Gartley, like all English villages, was filled with
scandalmongers, who would have talked, had Hope and Lucy not employed
Mrs. Jasher as gooseberry. Sometimes Donna Inez came with the widow,
while her father was hunting for the mummy in Pierside, and then Sir
Frank Random would be sure to put in an appearance to woo his Dulcinea
in admiring silence. Mrs. Jasher declared that the two must have made
love by telepathy, for they rarely exchanged a word. But this was all
the better, as Archie and Lucy chattered a great deal, and two pair of
magpies--Mrs. Jasher declared--would have been too much for her nerves.
She made a very good chaperon, as she allowed the young people to act as
they pleased, only sanctioning the meetings by her elderly presence.
One evening Mrs. Jasher was due to dinner, and Hope had already arrived.
No one else was expected, as Don Pedro had taken his daughter to the
theatre at Pierside and Sir Frank had gone to London in connection with
his military duties. It was a bitterly cold night, and already a fall
of snow had hinted that there was to be a real English Christmas of
the genuine kind. Lucy had prepared an excellent dinner for three, and
Archie had brought a set of new patience cards for Mrs. Jasher, who was
fond of the game. While the widow played, the lovers hoped to make love
undisturbed, and looked forward to a happy evening. But there was one
drawback, for although the dinner hour was supposed to be eight o'clock,
and it was now thirty minutes past, Mrs. Jasher had not arrived. Lucy
was dismayed.
“What can be keeping her?” she asked Archie, to which that young
gentleman replied that he did not know, and, what was more, he did not
care. Miss Kendal very properly rebuked this sentiment. “You ought to
care, Archie, for you know that if Mrs. Jasher does not come to dinner,
you will have to go away.”
“Why should I?” he inquired sulkily.
“People will talk.”
“Let them. I don't care.”
“Neither do I, you stupid boy. But my father will care, and if people
talk he will be very angry.”
“My dear Lucy,” and Archie put his arm round her waist to say this, “I
don't see why you should be afraid of the Professor. He is only your
step-father, and you aren't so very fond of him as to mind what he says.
Besides, we can marry soon, and then he can go hang.”
“But I don't want him to go hang,” she replied, laughing. “After all,
the Professor has always been kind to me, and as a step-father has
behaved very well, when he could easily have made himself disagreeable.
Another thing is that he can be very bad tempered when he likes, and if
I let people talk about us--which they will do if they get a chance--he
will behave so coldly to me, that I shall have a disagreeable time. As
we can't marry for ever so long, I don't want to be uncomfortable.”
“We can marry whenever you like,” said Hope unexpectedly.
“What, with your income so unsettled?”
“It is not unsettled.”
“Yes, it is. You will help that horrid spendthrift uncle of yours, and
until he and his family are solvent I don't see how we can be sure of
our money.”
“We are sure of it now, dearest. Uncle Simon has turned up trumps after
all, and so have his investments.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“I mean that yesterday I received a letter from him saying that he was
now rich, and would pay back all I had lent him. I went up to London
to-day, and had an interview. The result of that is that I am some
thousands to the good, that Uncle Simon is well off for the rest of his
life and will require no more assistance, and that my three hundred a
year is quite clear for ever and ever and ever.”
“Then we can marry,” cried Miss Kendal with a gasp of delight.
“Whenever you choose--next week if you like.”
“In January then--just after Christmas. We'll go on a trip to Italy and
return to take a flat in London. Oh, Archie, I am sorry I thought so
badly of your uncle. He has behaved very well. And what a mercy it is
that he will require no more assistance! You are sure he will not.”
“If he does, he won't get it,” said Hope candidly. “While I was a
bachelor I could assist him; but when I am married I must look after
myself and my wife.” He gave Lucy a hug. “It's all right now, dear,
and Uncle Simon has behaved excellently--far better than I expected.
We shall go to Italy for the honeymoon and need not hurry back until
we--well, say until we quarrel.”
“In that case we shall live in Italy for the rest of our lives,” said
Lucy with twinkling eyes; “but we must come back in a year and take a
studio in Chelsea.”
“Why not in Gartley? Remember, the Professor will be lonely.”
“No, he won't. Mrs. Jasher, as I told you, intends to marry him.”
“He might not wish to marry her”
“That doesn't matter,” rejoined Lucy, with the cleverness of a woman.
“She can manage to bring the marriage about. Besides, I want to break
with the old life here, and begin quite a new one with you. When I
am your wife and Mrs. Jasher is my step-father's, everything will be
capitally arranged.”
“Well, I hope so,” said Archie heartily, “for I want you all to myself
and have no desire to share you with anyone else. But I say,” he glanced
at his watch; “it is getting towards nine o'clock, and I am desperately
hungry. Can't we go to dinner?”
“Not until Mrs. Jasher arrives,” said Lucy primly.
“Oh, bother--!”
Hope, being quite exasperated with hunger, would have launched out into
a speech condemning the widow's unpunctuality, when in the hall below
the drawing-room was heard the sound of the door opening and closing.
Without doubt this was Mrs. Jasher arriving at last, and Lucy ran out
of the room and down the stairs to welcome her in her eagerness to get
Archie seated at the dinner table. The young man lingered by the open
door of the drawing-room, ready to welcome the widow, when he heard Lucy
utter an exclamation of surprise and became aware that she was ascending
the stairs along with Professor Braddock. At once he reflected there
would be trouble, since he was in the house with Lucy, and lacked the
necessary chaperon which Braddock's primitive Anglo-Saxon instincts
insisted upon.
“I did not know you were returning to-night,” Lucy was saying when she
re-entered the drawing-room with her step-father.
“I arrived by the six o'clock train,” explained the Professor, unwinding
a large red scarf from his neck, and struggling out of his overcoat with
the assistance of his daughter. “Ha, Hope, good evening.”
“Where have you been since?” asked Lucy, throwing the Professor's coat
and wraps on to a chair.
“With Mrs. Jasher,” said Braddock, warming his plump hands at the fire.
“So you must blame me that she is not here to preside at dinner as the
chaperon of you young people.”
Lucy and her lover glanced at one another in surprise. This light and
airy tone was a new one for the Professor to take. Instead of being
angry, he seemed to be unusually gay, and looked at them in quite a
jocular manner for a dry-as-dust scientist.
“We waited dinner for her, father,” ventured Lucy timidly.
“Then I am ready to eat it,” announced Braddock. “I am extremely hungry,
my dear. I can't live on love, you know.”
“Live on love?” Lucy stared, and Archie laughed quietly.
“Oh yes, you may smile and look astonished;” went on the Professor
good-humoredly, “but science does not destroy the primeval instincts
entirely. Lucy, my dear,” he took her hand and patted it, “while in
London and in lodgings, it was borne in upon me forcibly how lonely I
was and how lonely I would be when you married our young friend yonder.
I had intended to come down to-morrow, but to-night, such was my feeling
of loneliness that I considered favorably your idea that I should find a
second helpmate in Mrs. Jasher. I have always had a profound admiration
for that lady, and so--on the spur of the moment, as I may say--I
decided to come down this evening and propose.”
“Oh,” Lucy clapped her hands, very well satisfied with the unexpected
news, “and have you?”
“Mrs. Jasher,” said the Professor gravely, “did me the honor to promise
to become my wife this evening.”
“She will become your wife this evening?” said Archie, smiling.
Braddock, with one of those odd twists of humor which were
characteristic of him, became irascible.
“Confound it, sir, don't I speak English,” he snapped, with his eyes
glaring rebuke. “She promised this evening to become Mrs. Braddock.
We shall marry--so we have arranged--in the springtime, which is the
natural pairing season for human beings as well as for birds. And I am
glad to say that Mrs. Jasher takes a deep interest in archaeology.”
“And, what is more, she is a splendid housekeeper,” said Lucy.
The temporary anger of the Professor vanished. He drew his step-daughter
towards him and kissed her on the cheek.
“I believe that I have to thank you for putting the idea into my head,”
said he, “and also--if Mrs. Jasher is to be believed--for aiding her
to see the mutual advantage it would be to both of us to marry. Ha,” he
released Lucy and rubbed his hands, “let us go to dinner.”
“I am very glad,” said Miss Kendal heartily.
“So am I, so am I,” replied Braddock, nodding. “As you very truly
observed, my child, the house would have gone to rack and ruin without
a woman to look after my interests. Well,” he took the arms of the two
young people, “I really think that we must have a bottle of champagne on
the strength of it.”
Shortly the trio were seated at the table, and Braddock explained that
Mrs. Jasher, being overcome by his proposal, had not been able to face
the ordeal of congratulations.
“But she will come to-morrow,” said he, as Cockatoo filled three
glasses.
“Indeed, I shall congratulate her to-night,” said Lucy obstinately. “As
soon as dinner is over, I shall go with Archie to her house, and tell
her how pleased I am.”
“It is very cold for you to be out, Lucy dear,” urged Archie anxiously.
“Oh, I can wrap up warmly,” she answered.
Strange to say, the Professor made no objection to the excursion,
although Hope quite expected such a stickler for etiquette to refuse
permission to his step-daughter. But Braddock seemed rather pleased
than otherwise. His proposal of marriage seemed to have put him into
excellent humor, and he raised his glass with a chuckle.
“I drink to your happiness, my dear Lucy, and to that of Mrs. Jasher's.”
“And I drink to Archie's and to yours, father,” she replied. “I am glad
that you will not be lonely when we are married. Archie and I wish to
become one in January.”
“Yes,” said Hope, finishing his champagne, “my income is now all right,
as my uncle has paid up.”
“Very good, very good. I make no objection,” said Braddock placidly. “I
will give you a handsome wedding present, Lucy, for you may have heard
that my future wife has money left to her by her brother, who was lately
a merchant in Pekin. She is heart and hand with me in our proposed
expedition to Egypt.”
“Will you go there for the honeymoon, sir?” asked Hope.
“Not exactly for the honeymoon, since we are to be married in spring,
and my expedition to the tomb of Queen Tahoser cannot start until the
late autumn. But Mrs. Braddock will come with me. That is only just,
since it will be her money which will furnish the sinews of war.”
“Well, everything is arranged very well,” said Lucy. “I marry Archie;
you, father, make Mrs. Jasher your wife; and I suspect Sir Frank will
marry Donna Inez.”
“Ha!” said Braddock with a start, “the daughter of De Gayangos, who has
come here for the missing mummy. Mrs. Jasher told me somewhat of that,
my dear. But I shall see Don Pedro myself to-morrow. Meanwhile, let us
eat and drink. I must go down to the museum, and you--”
“We shall go to congratulate Mrs. Jasher,” said Lucy.
So it was arranged, and shortly Professor Braddock retired into his
sanctum along with the devoted Cockatoo, who displayed lively joy on
beholding his master once more. Lucy, after being carefully wrapped up
by Archie, set out with that young man to congratulate the bride-elect.
It was just half-past nine when they started out.
The night was frosty and the stars twinkled like jewels in a cloudless
sky of dark blue. The moon shone with hard brilliance on the ground,
which was powdered with a light fall of snow. As the young people walked
briskly through the village, their footsteps rang on the frosty earth
and they scrunched the snow in their quick tread. The Warrior Inn was
still open, as it was not late, and lights shone from the windows of the
various cottages. When the two, following the road through the marshes,
emerged from the village, they saw the great mass of the Fort bulking
blackly against the clear sky, the glittering stream of the Thames,
and the marshes outlined in delicate white. The fairy world of snow and
moonlight appealed to Archie's artistic sense, and Lucy approving of the
same, they did not hurry to arrive at their destination.
But shortly they saw the squarely fenced acre of ground near the
embankment, wherein Mrs. Jasher's humble abode was placed. Light shone
through the pink curtains of the drawing-room, showing that the widow
had not yet retired. In a few minutes the lovers were at the gate and
promptly entered. It was then that one of those odd things happened
which would argue that some people are possessed of a sixth sense.
Archie closed the gate after him, and, glancing right and left, walked
up the snowy path with Lucy. To the right was a leafless arbor, also
powdered with snow, and against the white bulked a dark form something
like a coffin. Hope out of curiosity went up to it.
“What the deuce is this?” he asked himself; then raised his voice in
loud surprise. “Lucy! Lucy! come here!”
“What is it?” she asked, running up.
“Look”--he pointed to the oddly shaped case--“the green mummy!”