“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 everyone,” 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 anyone, 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.”
“If they aren’t spiled with paint,”
