CHAPTER VIII. THE BARONET
Sir Frank Random was an amiable young gentleman with – as the saying goes – all his goods in the shop window. Fair-haired and tall, with a well-knit, athletic figure, a polished manner, and a man-of-the-world air, he strictly resembled the romantic officer of Bow Bells, Family Herald, Young Ladies’ Journal fiction. But the romance was all in his well-groomed looks, as he was as commonplace a Saxon as could be met with in a day’s march. Fond of sport, attentive to his duties as artillery captain, and devoted to what is romantically known as the fair sex, he sauntered easily through life, very well contented with himself and with his agreeable surroundings. He read fiction when he did read, and those weekly papers devoted to sport; troubled his head very little about politics, save when they had to do with a possible German invasion, and was always ready to do any one a good turn. His brother-officers declared that he was not half a bad sort, which was high praise from the usually reticent service man. His capacity may be accurately gauged by the fact that he did not possess a single enemy, and that every one spoke well of him. A mortal who possesses no quality likely to be envied by those around him is certain to belong to the rank and file of humanity. But these unconsidered units of mankind can always console themselves with the undoubted fact that mediocrity is invariably happy.
Such a man as Random would never set the Thames on fire, and certainly he had no ambition to perform that astounding feat. He was fond of his profession and intended to remain in the army as long as he could. He desired to marry and beget a family, and retire, when set free from soldiering, to his country seat, and there perform blamelessly the congenial role of a village squire, until called upon to join the respectable corpses in the Random vault. Not that he was a saint or ever could be one. Neither black nor white, he was simply gray, being an ordinary mixture of good and bad. As theology has provided no hereafter for gray people, it is hard to imagine where the bulk of humanity will go. But doubts on this point never troubled Random. He went to church, kept his mouth shut and his pores open and vaguely believed that it would be all right somehow. A very comfortable if superficial philosophy indeed.
It can easily be guessed that Random’s somewhat colorless personality would never attract Lucy Kendal, since the hues of her own character were deeper. For this reason she was drawn to Hope, who possessed that aggressive artistic temperament, where good and bad, are in violent contrast. Random took opinions from books, or from other people, and his mind, like a looking-glass, reflected whatever came along; but Hope possessed opinions of his own, both right and wrong, and held to these in the face of all verbal opposition. He could argue and did argue, when Random simply agreed. Lucy had similar idiosyncrasies, inherited from a clever father, so it was just as well that she preferred Archie to Frank. Had the latter young gentleman married her, he would have dwindled to Lady Random’s husband, and would have found too late that he had domesticated a kind of imitation George Eliot. When he congratulated Archie on his engagement somewhat ruefully, he little thought what an escape he had had.
But Professor Braddock, who did not belong to the gray tribe, knew nothing of this, as his Egyptological studies did not permit him time to argue on such commonplace matters. He therefore failed in advance when he set out to persuade Random into renewing his suit. As the fiery little man afterwards expressed himself, “I might as well have talked to a mollusc,” for Random politely declined to be used as an instrument to forward the Professor’s ambition at the cost of Miss Kendal’s unhappiness. The interview took place in Sir Frank’s quarters at the Fort on the day after Hervey had called to propose a search for the corpse. And it was during this interview that Braddock learned something which both startled and annoyed him.
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, sparsely 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 damned 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 assistant.”
“Oh yes. Silly young ass 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 shore 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 advertisement 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 assistant 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.”
“Humph!” said the Professor, unconvinced. “He could easily employ a third party.”
Random rose, looking and feeling annoyed.
“I assure you that Don Pedro is a gentleman and a man of honor. He would not stoop to – ”
“There! there!” Braddock waved his hands. “Sit down: sit down.”
“You shouldn’t say such things, Professor.”
“I say what I desire to say,” retorted the old gentleman tartly; “but we can dismiss the subject for the time being.”
“I am only too glad to do so,” said Random, who was ruffled out of his usual calm by the veiled accusation which Braddock had brought against his foreign friend, “and to get to a more agreeable subject, tell me how Miss Kendal is keeping.”
“She is ill, very ill,” said the Professor solemnly.
“Ill? Why, Hope, whom I met the other day, said that she was feeling very well and very happy.”
“So Hope thinks, because he has forced her into an engagement.”
Random started to his feet.
“Forced her? Nonsense!”
“It isn’t nonsense, and don’t dare to speak like that to me, sir. I repeat that Lucy – poor child – is breaking her heart for you.”
The young man stared and then broke into a hearty laugh.
“Pardon me, sir, but that is impossible.”
“It isn’t, confound you!” said Braddock, who did not like being laughed at. “I know women.”
“You don’t know your daughter.”
“Step-daughter, you mean.”
“Ah, perhaps the more distant relationship accounts for your ignorance of her character,” said Random dryly. “You are quite wrong. I was in love with Miss Kendal, and asked her to be my wife before I went on leave. She refused me, saying that she loved Hope, and because of her refusal I took my broken heart to Monte Carlo, where I lost much more money than I had any right to lose.”
“Your broken heart seems to have mended quickly,” said Braddock, who was trying to suppress his wrath at this instance of Lucy’s duplicity, for so he considered it.
“Oh, pooh, it’s only my way of speaking,” laughed the young man. “If my heart had been really broken I should not have mentioned the fact.”
“Then you did not love Lucy, and you dared to play fast and loose with her affections,” raged Braddock, stamping.
“You are quite wrong,” said Sir Frank sharply; “I did love Miss Kendal, or I should certainly not have asked her to be my wife. But when she told me that she loved another man, I stood aside as any fellow would.”
“You should have insisted on – ”
“On nothing, sir. I am not the man to force a woman to give me a heart which belongs to another person. I am very glad that Miss Kendal is engaged to Hope, as he is a capital fellow, and will make her a better husband than I ever could have made her. Besides,” Random shrugged his shoulders, “one nail drives another out.”
“Humph! That means you love another.”
“I am not bound to tell you my private affairs, Professor.”
“Quite so: quite so; but Inez is a pretty and romantic name.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, sir,” said Random stiffly.
Braddock chuckled, having read the truth in the flush which had crept over Random’s tanned face.
“I ask your pardon,” he said elaborately. “I am an old man, and I was your father’s friend. You must not mind if I have been a trifle inquisitive.”
“Say no more, sir: that is all right.”
“I don’t agree with you, Random. Things are not all right and never will be until my mummy is discovered. Now you can help me.”
“In what way?” asked the other uneasily.
“With money. Understand, my boy,” added the Professor in a genial way which he knew well how to assume, “I should have preferred Lucy becoming your wife. However, since she prefers Hope, there’s no more to be said on that score. I therefore will not make the offer I came here to make.”
“An offer, sir?”
“Yes! I fancied that you loved Lucy and were broken-hearted by the news of her engagement to Hope. I therefore intended to ask you to give me, or rather lend me, five hundred pounds on condition that I helped you to – ”
“Stop, Professor,” said Random, coloring, “I should never have bought Miss Kendal as my wife on those terms.”
“Of course! of course! and – as I say – there is no more to be said. I shall therefore agree to Lucy’s engagement to Hope” – Braddock carefully omitted to say that he had already agreed and had been paid one thousand pounds to agree – “and will congratulate you when you lead Donna Inez to the altar.”
“I never said anything about Donna Inez, Professor Braddock.”
“Of course not: modern reticence. However, I can see through a brick wall as well as most people. I understand, so let us drop the subject, my boy. And this five hundred pounds – ”
“I cannot lend it to you, Professor. The fact is, I lost heaps of coin at Monte Carlo, and am not in a position to – ”
“Very good, let us shelve that also,” said Braddock with apparent heartiness, although he was really very angry at his failure. “I am sorry, though, as I wish to get back the mummy and to revenge poor Sidney Bolton’s death.”
“How can the five hundred do that?” asked Random with interest.
“Well,” drawled the Professor with his eyes on the young man’s attentive face, “Captain Hervey of The Diver came to me yesterday and proposed to search for the assassin and his plunder on condition that I paid him five hundred pounds. I am, as you know, very poor for a scientist, and so I wished to borrow the five hundred from you on condition that Lucy – ”
“We won’t talk of that again,” said Random hurriedly; “but do you mean to say that this Captain Hervey knows of anything likely to solve this mystery?”
“He says that he does not, and merely proposes to search. From what I have seen of the man I should think that he had all the capacities of a good bloodhound and would certainly succeed. But he will not move a step without money.”
“Five hundred pounds,” murmured Random thoughtfully, while the Professor watched him closely. “I can tell you how to obtain it.”
“How? In what way?”
“Don Pedro seems to be rich, and he wants the mummy,” said the baronet. “So when he comes here ask him to – ”
“Certainly not: certainly not,” raged Braddock, clapping on his hat in a fury. “How dare you make such a proposition to me, Random! If this Don Pedro offers the reward and Hervey finds the mummy, he will simply hand it over to your friend.”
“He can scarcely do that, since you have bought the mummy. But Don Pedro is willing to purchase it from you.”
“Humph!” Braddock moved to the door, thinking. “I shall reserve my decision until this man arrives. Good day,” and he departed.
Random did not attempt to detain him, as he was somewhat weary of the Professor’s vagaries. He knew very well that Braddock would call on Don Pedro when he came to the Warrior Inn, and join forces with him in searching for the lost goods. And the train of thought initiated by the Professor’s visit led Random to a certain drawer, whence he took the photograph of a splendid-looking beauty. To this he pressed his lips. “I wonder if your father will give you to me in exchange for that mummy,” he thought, and kissed the pictured face again.
CHAPTER IX. MRS. JASHER’S LUCK’
Some weeks had now elapsed since the death and burial of Sidney Bolton, and the excitement had simmered down to a gentle speculation as to who had killed him. This question was discussed in a half-hearted manner round the winter fires of Gartley, but gradually people were ceasing to interest themselves in a crime, the mystery of which would apparently never be solved. Life went on in the village and at the Pyramids much in the same way, save that the Professor attended along with Cockatoo to his museum and did not engage another assistant.
Archie and Lucy were perfectly happy, as they looked forward to being married in the spring, and Braddock showed no desire to interfere with their engagement. They knew, of course, that he had called upon Sir Frank, but were ignorant of what had taken place. Random himself called at the Pyramids to congratulate Miss Kendal on her engagement, and seemed so very pleased that she was going to marry the man of her choice, that, woman-like, she grew rather annoyed. As the baronet had been her lover, she thought that he should wear the willow for her sake. But Random showed no disposition to do so, therefore Lucy shrewdly guessed that his broken heart had been mended by another woman. The Professor could have confirmed the truth of this from the hints which Random had given him, but he said nothing about his interview with the young man, nor did he mention that a Spanish gentleman from Peru was seeking for the famous green mummy.
Considerably vexed that Random should be so cheerful, Lucy cast round to learn the truth. She could scarcely ask the baronet himself, and Archie professed himself unable to explain. Miss Kendal did not dream of cross-examining Braddock, as it never entered her mind that the dry-as-dust scientist would know anything. It then occurred to this inquisitive young lady that Mrs. Jasher might be aware of Random’s secret, which made him so cheerful. Sir Frank was a great friend of the plump widow, and frequently went to take afternoon tea at her small house, which was situated no great distance from the Fort. In fact, Mrs. Jasher entertained the officers largely, as she was hospitable by nature, and liked to have presentable men about her for flirting purposes. With good-looking youth she assumed the maternal air, and in the role of a clever woman of the world professed to be the adviser of one and all. In this way she became quite a favorite, and her little parlor – she liked the old English word – was usually, well filled at the hour of afternoon tea.
Twice already Lucy had called on Mrs. Jasher after the commotion caused by the crime, as she wished to speak to her about the same; but on each occasion the widow proved to be absent in London. However, the third visit proved to be more lucky, for Mrs. Jasher was at home, and expressed herself happy to see the girl.
“So good of you to come and see me in my little wooden hut,” said the widow, kissing her guest.
And Mrs. Jasher’s cottage really was a little wooden hut, being what was left of an old-fashioned farmhouse, built before the stone age. It lay on the verge of the marshes in an isolated position and was placed in the middle of a square garden, protected from the winter floods by a low stone wall solidly built, but of no great height. The road to the Fort ran past the front part of the garden, but behind the marshes spread towards the embankment, which cut off the view of the Thames. The situation was not an ideal one, nor was the cottage, but money was scarce with Mrs. Jasher, and she had obtained the whole place at a surprisingly small rental. The house and grounds were dry enough in summer, but decidedly damp in winter. Therefore, the widow went to a flat in London, as a rule, for the season of fogs. But this winter she had made up her mind – so she told Lucy – to remain in her own little castle and brave the watery humors of the marshes.
“I can always keep fires burning in every room,” said Mrs. Jasher, when she had removed her guest’s hat and had settled her for a confidential talk on the sofa. “And after all, my dear, there is no place like home.”
The room was small, and Mrs. Jasher was small, so she suited her surroundings excellently. Also, the widow had the good taste to furnish it sparsely, instead of crowding it with furniture; but what furniture there was could not be improved upon. There were Chippendale chairs, a Louis Quinze table, a Sheridan cabinet, and a satin-wood desk, hand-painted, which was said to have been the property of the unhappy Marie Antoinette. Oil-paintings adorned the rose-tinted walls, chiefly landscapes, although one or two were portraits. Also, there were water-colored pictures, framed and signed caricatures, many plates of old china, and rice-paper adornments from Canton. The room was essentially feminine, being filled with Indian stuffs, with silver oddments, with flowers, and with other trifles. The walls, the carpet, the hangings, and the upholstery of the arm-chairs were all of a rosy hue, so that Mrs. Jasher looked as young as Dame Holda in the Venusberg. A very pretty room and a very charming hostess, was the verdict of the young gentlemen from the Fort, who came here to flirt when they were not serving their country.
Mrs. Jasher in a tea-rose tea-gown for afternoon tea – she always liked to be in keeping – rang for that beverage dear to the feminine heart, and lighted a rose-shaded lamp. When a glow as of dawn spread through the dainty room, she settled Lucy on the sofa near the fire, and drew up an arm-chair on the other side of the hearth-rug. Outside it was cold and foggy, but the rose-hued curtains shut out all that was disagreeable in the weather, and in the absence of male society, the two women talked more or less confidentially. Lucy did not dislike Mrs. Jasher, even though she fancied that the lively widow was planning to become the mistress of the Pyramids.
“Well, my dear girl,” said Mrs. Jasher, shading her face from the fire with a large fan, “and how is your dear father after his late terrible experiences?”
“He is perfectly well, and rather cross,” replied Lucy, smiling.
“Cross?”
“Of course. He has lost that wretched mummy.”
“And poor Sidney Bolton.”
“Oh, I don’t think he cares for poor Sidney’s death beyond the fact that he misses his services. But the mummy cost nine hundred pounds, and father is much annoyed, especially as Peruvian mummies are somewhat hard to obtain. You see, Mrs. Jasher, father wishes to see the difference between the Peruvian and Egyptian modes of embalming.”
“Ugh! How gruesome!” Mrs. Jasher shuddered. “But has anything been discovered likely to show who killed this poor lad?”
“No, the whole thing is a mystery.”
Mrs. Jasher looked into the fire over the top of the fan.
“I have read the papers,” she said slowly, “and have gathered what I could from what the reporters explained. But I intend to call on the Professor and hear all that evidence which did not get into the papers.”
“I think that everything has been made public. The police have no clue to the murderer. Why do you want to know?”
Mrs. Jasher made a movement of surprise.
“Why, I am the Professor’s friend, of course, my dear, and naturally I want to help him to solve this mystery.”
“There is no chance, so far as I can see, of it ever being solved,” said Lucy. “It’s very sweet of you, of course, but were I you I should not talk about it to my father.”
“Why?” asked Mrs. Jasher quickly.
“Because he thinks of nothing else, and both Archie and I are trying to get him off the subject. The mummy is lost and poor Sidney is buried. There is no more to be said.”
“Still, if a reward was offered – ”
“My father is too poor to offer a reward, and the Government will not do so. And as people will not work without money, why – ” Lucy completed her sentence with a shrug.
“I might offer a reward if the dear Professor will let me,” said the widow unexpectedly.
“You! But I thought that you were poor, as we are.”
“I was, and I am not very rich now. All the same, I have come in for some thousands of pounds.”
“I congratulate you. A legacy?”
“Yes. You remember how I told you about my brother who was a Pekin merchant. He is dead.”
“Oh, I am so sorry.”
“My dear, what is the use of being sorry. I never cry over spilt milk, or assume a virtue which I have not. My brother and I were almost strangers, as we lived apart for so many years. However, he came home to die at Brighton, and a few weeks ago – just after this murder took place, in fact – I was summoned to his death-bed. He lingered on until last week and died in my arms. He left me nearly all his money, so I will be able to help the Professor.”
“I don’t see why you should,” said Lucy, wondering why Mrs. Jasher did not wear mourning for the dead.
“Oh yes, you do see,” remarked the widow, raising her eyes and rubbing her plump hands together. “I want to marry your father.”
Lucy did not express astonishment, as she had understood this for a long time.
“I guessed as much.”
“And what do you say?”
Miss Kendal shrugged her shoulders.
“If my step-father,” she emphasized the word – “if my step-father consents, why should I mind? I am going to marry Archie, and no doubt the Professor will be lonely.”
“Then you do not disapprove of me as a mother.”
“My dear Mrs. Jasher,” said Lucy, coldly, “there is no relationship between me and my step-father beyond the fact that he married my mother. Therefore you can never be my mother. Were I stopping on at the Pyramids, that question might arise, but as I become Mrs. Hope in six months, we can be friends – nothing more.”
“I am quite content with that,” said Mrs. Jasher in a businesslike way. “After all, I am no sentimentalist. But I am glad that you do not mind my marrying the Professor, as I don’t want you to prevent the match, my dear.”
Lucy laughed.
“I assure you that I have no influence with my father, Mrs. Jasher. He will marry you if he thinks fit and without consulting me. But,” added the girl with emphasis, “I do not see what you gain in becoming Mrs. Braddock.”
“I may become Lady Braddock,” said the widow, dryly. Then, in answer to the open astonishment on Lucy’s face, she hastened to remark: “Do you mean to say that you don’t know your father is heir to a baronetcy?”
“Oh, I know that,” rejoined Miss Kendal. “The Professor’s brother, Sir Donald Braddock, is an old man and unmarried. If he dies without heirs, as it seems likely, the Professor will certainly take the title.”
“Well, then, there you are!” cried Mrs. Jasher, in her liveliest tone. “I want to give my legacy for the title and preside over a scientific salon in London.”
“I understand. But you will never get my father to live in London.”
“Wait until I marry him,” said the little woman shrewdly. “I’ll make a man of him. I know, of course, that mummies and sepulchral ornaments and those sort of horrid things are dull, but the Professor will become Sir Julian Braddock, and that is enough for me. I don’t love him, of course, as love between two elderly people is absurd, but I shall make him a good wife, and with my money he can take his proper position in the scientific world, which he doesn’t occupy at present. I would rather he had been artistic, as science is so dull. However, I am getting on in years and wish to have some amusement before I die, so I must take what I can get. What do you say?”
“I am quite agreeable, as, when I leave, someone must look after my father, else he will be shamefully robbed by everyone in household matters. We are good friends, so why not you as well as another.”
“You are a dear girl,” said Mrs. Jasher with a sigh of relief, and kissed Lucy fondly. “I am sure we shall get on excellently.”
“At a distance. The artistic world doesn’t touch on the scientific, you know. And you forget, Mrs. Jasher, that my father wishes to go to Egypt to explore this mysterious tomb.”
Mrs. Jasher nodded.
“Yes, I promised, when I came in for my brother’s money, to help the Professor to fit out his expedition. But it seems to me that the money will be better spent in offering a reward so that the mummy can be found.”
“Well,” said Lucy, laughing, “you can give the Professor his choice.”
“Before marriage, not after. He needs to be managed, like all men.”
“You will not find him easy to manage,” said Lucy dryly. “He is a very obstinate man, and quite feminine in his persistency.”
“H’m! I recognize that he is a difficult character, and between you and me dear, I should not marry him but for the title. It sounds rather like an adventuress talking in this way, but, after all, if he makes me Lady Braddock I can give him enough money to let him realize his desire of getting the mummy back. It’s six of one and half a dozen of the other. And I’ll be good to him: you need not fear.”