The Green Mummy

“I cannot say. He refused to fix a date. But he usually remains away for a fortnight. I expect him back in that time, but he may come much earlier. He will come back when the fancy takes him.”

“I shall alter all that, when we are married,” muttered Mrs. Jasher with a frown. “He must be taught to be less selfish.”

“I fear you will never improve him in that respect,” said Lucy dryly, and rejoined the gentlemen in time to hear Random mention the name of Don Pedro de Gayangos.

“What is that, Sir Frank?” she asked.

Random turned toward her with his pleasant smile.

“My Spanish friend, whom I met at Genoa, is coming here to-morrow.”

“With his daughter?” questioned Mrs. Jasher roguishly.

“Of course,” replied the young soldier, coloring. “Donna Inez is quite devoted to her father and never leaves him.”

“She will one day, I expect,” said Hope innocently, for his eyes were on his sketch and not on Random’s face, “when the husband of her choice comes along.”

“Perhaps he has come along already,” tittered Mrs. Jasher significantly.

Lucy took pity on Random’s confusion.

“Where will they stay?”

“At the Warrior Inn. I have engaged the best rooms in the place. I fancy they will be comfortable there, as Mrs. Humber, the landlady, is a good housekeeper and an excellent cook. And I don’t think Don Pedro is hard to please.”

“A Spaniard, you say,” remarked Archie idly. “Does he speak English?”

“Admirably – so does the daughter.”

“But why does a Spaniard come to so out-of-the-way a place?” asked Mrs. Jasher, after a pause.

“I thought I told you the other day, when we spoke of the matter,” answered Sir Frank with surprise. “Don Pedro has come here to interview Professor Braddock about that missing mummy.”

Hope looked up sharply.

“What does he know about the mummy?”

“Nothing so far as I know, save that he came to Europe with the intention of purchasing it, and found himself forestalled by Professor Braddock. Don Pedro told me no more than that.”

“Humph!” murmured Hope to himself. “Don Pedro will be disappointed when he learns that the mummy is missing.”

Random did not catch the words and was about to ask him what he had said, when two tall figures, conducted by a shorter one, were seen moving on the white road which led to the Fort.

“Strangers!” said Mrs. Jasher, putting up her lorgnette, which she used for effect, although she had remarkably keen sight.

“How do you know?” asked Lucy carelessly.

“My dear, look how oddly the man is dressed.”

“I can’t tell at this distance,” said Lucy, “and if you can, Mrs. Jasher I really do not see why you require glasses.”

Mrs. Jasher laughed at the compliment to her sight, and colored through her rouge at the reproof to her vanity. Meanwhile, the smaller figure, which was that of a village lad leading a tall gentleman and a slender lady, pointed toward the group round Hope’s easel. Shortly, the boy ran back up to the village road, and the gentleman came along the pathway with the lady. Random, who had been looking at them intently, suddenly started, having at length recognized them.

“Don Pedro and his daughter,” he said in an astonished voice, and sprang forward to welcome the unexpected visitors.

“Now, my dear,” whispered the widow in Lucy’s ear, “we shall see the kind of woman Sir Frank prefers to you.”

“Well, as Sir Frank has seen the kind of man I prefer to him,” retorted Lucy, “that makes us quite equal.”

“I am glad these new-comers talk English,” said Hope, who had risen to his feet. “I know nothing of Spanish.”

“They are not Spanish, but Peruvian,” said Mrs. Jasher.

“The language is the same, more or less. Confound it! here is Random bringing them here. I wish he would take them to the Fort. There’s no more work for the next hour, I suppose,” and Hope, rather annoyed, began to pack his artistic traps.

On a nearer view, Don Pedro proved to be a tall, lean, dry man, not unlike Dore’s conception of Don Quixote. He must have had Indian blood in his veins, judging from his very dark eyes, his stiff, lank hair, worn somewhat long, and his high cheek-bones. Also, although he was arrayed in puritanic black, his barbaric love of color betrayed itself in a red tie and in a scarlet handkerchief which was twisted loosely round a soft slouch hat, It was the hat and the brilliant red of tie and handkerchief which had caught Mrs. Jasher’s eye at so great a distance, and which had led her to pronounce the man a stranger, for Mrs. Jasher well knew that no Englishman would affect such vivid tints. All the same, in spite of this eccentricity, Don Pedro looked a thorough Castilian gentleman, and bowed gravely when presented to the ladies by Random.

“Mrs. Jasher, Miss Kendal, permit me to present Don Pedro de Gayangos.”

“I am charmed,” said the Peruvian, bowing, hat in hand, “and in turn, allow me, ladies, to introduce my daughter, Donna Inez de Gayangos.”

Archie was also presented to the Don and to the young lady, after which Lucy and Mrs. Jasher, while not appearing to look, made a thorough examination of the lady with whom Random was in love. No doubt Donna Inez was making an examination on her own account, and with the cleverness of the sex the three women, while chatting affably, learned all that there was to be learned from the outward appearance of each other in three minutes. Miss Kendal could not deny but what Donna Inez was very beautiful, and frankly admitted – inwardly, of course – her own inferiority. She was merely pretty, whereas the Peruvian lady was truly handsome and quite majestic in appearance.

Yet about Donna Inez there was the same indefinite barbaric look as characterized her father. Her face was lovely, dark and proud in expression, but there was an aloofness about it which puzzled the English girl. Donna Inez might have belonged to a race populating another planet of the solar system. She had large black, melting eyes, a straight Greek nose and perfect mouth, a well-rounded chin and magnificent hair, dark and glossy as the wing of the raven, which was arranged in the latest Parisian style of coiffure. Also, her gown – as the two women guessed in an instant – was from Paris. She was perfectly gloved and booted, and even if she betrayed somehow a barbaric taste for color in the dull ruddy hue of her dress, which was subdued with black braid, yet she looked quite a well-bred woman. All the same, her whole appearance gave an observant onlooker the idea that she would be more at home in a scanty robe and glittering with rudely wrought ornaments of gold. Perhaps Peru, where she came from, suggested the comparison, but Lucy’s thoughts flew back to an account of the Virgins of the Sun, which the Professor had once described. It occurred to her, perhaps wrongly, that in Donna Inez she beheld one who in former days would have been the bride of some gorgeous Inca.

“I fear you will find England dull after the sunshine of Lima,” said Lucy, having ended a swift examination.

Donna Inez shivered a trifle and glanced around at the gray misty air through which the pale sunshine struggled with difficulty.

“I certainly prefer the tropics to this,” she said in musical English, “but my father has come down here on business, and until it is concluded we shall remain in this place.”

“Then we must make things as bright as possible for you,” said Mrs. Jasher cheerfully, and desperately anxious to learn more of the new-comers. “You must come to see me, Donna Inez – yonder is my cottage.”

“Thank you, madame: you are very good.”

Meanwhile Don Pedro was talking to the two young men.

“Yes, I did arrive here earlier than I expected,” he was remarking, “but I have to return to Lima shortly, and I wish to get my business with Professor Braddock finished as speedily as possible.”

“I am sorry,” said Lucy politely, “but my father is absent.”

“And when will he return, Miss Kendal?”

“I can scarcely say – in a week or a fortnight.”

Don Pedro made a gesture of annoyance.

“It is a pity, as I am so very pressed for time. Still, I must remain until the Professor returns. I am so anxious to hear if the mummy has been found.”

“It is not found yet,” said Hope quickly, “and never will be.”

Don Pedro looked at him quietly.

“It must be found,” said he. “I have come all the way from Lima to obtain it. When you hear my story you will not be surprised at my desire to regain the mummy.”

“Regain it?” echoed Hope and Random in one breath.

Don Pedro nodded.

“The mummy was stolen from my father,” he said.

CHAPTER XI. THE MANUSCRIPT

It was certainly strange how constantly the subject of the missing mummy came uppermost. Since it had disappeared and since the man who had brought it to England was dead, it might have been thought that nothing more would be said about the matter. But Professor Braddock harped incessantly on his loss – which was perhaps natural – and Widow Anne also talked a great deal as to the possibility of the mummy, being found, as she hoped to learn by that means the name of the assassin who had strangled her poor boy. Now Don Pedro de Gayangos appeared with the strange information that the weird relic of Peruvian civilization had been stolen from his father. Apparently fate was not inclined to let the matter of the lost mummy drop, and was working round to a denouement, which would possibly include the solution of the mystery of Sidney Bolton’s death. Yet, on the face of it, there appeared to be no chance of the truth becoming known.

Of course, when Don Pedro announced that the Mummy had formerly belonged to his father, every one was anxious to hear how it had been stolen. The Gayangos family were established in Lima, and the embalmed body of Inca Caxas had been purchased from a gentleman residing in Malta. How, then, had it crossed the water, and how had Don Pedro learned its whereabouts, only to arrive too late to secure his missing property? Mrs. Jasher was especially anxious to learn these things, and explained her reasons to Lucy.

“You see, my dear,” she said to the girl on the day after Don Pedro’s arrival in Gartley, “if we learn the past of that horrid mummy, we may gain a clue to the person who desired possession of the nasty thing, and so may hunt down this terrible criminal. Once he is found, the mummy may be secured again, and should I be able to return it to your father, out of gratitude he would certainly marry me.”

“You seem to think that the assassin is a man,” said Lucy dryly; “yet you forget that the person who talked to Sidney through the window of the Sailor’s Rest was a woman.”

“An old woman,” emphasized Mrs. Jasher briskly: “quite so.”

Lucy contradicted.

“Eliza Flight did not say if the woman was old or young, but merely stated that she wore a dark dress and a dark shawl over her head. Still, this mysterious woman was connected in some way with the murder, else she would not have been speaking to Sidney.”

“I don’t follow you, my dear. You talk as though poor Mr. Bolton expected to be murdered. For my part, I hold by the verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. The truth is to be found, if anywhere, in the past of the mummy.”

“We can discover nothing about that.”

“You forget what Don Pedro said, my dear,” remarked Mrs. Jasher hastily, “that the mummy had been stolen from his father. Let us hear what he has to say and we may find a clue. I am anxious that the Professor should regain the green mummy for reasons which you know of. And now, my hear, can you come to dinner to-night?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Miss Kendal hesitated. “Archie said that he would look in this evening.”

“I shall ask Mr. Hope also, my love. Don Pedro is coming and his daughter likewise. Needless to say Sir Frank will follow the young lady. We shall be a party of six, and after dinner we must induce Don Pedro to relate the story of how the mummy was stolen.”

“He may not be inclined.”

“Oh, I think so,” replied; Mrs. Jasher quickly. “He wants to get the mummy back again, and if we discuss the subject we may see some chance of securing it.”

“But Don Pedro will not wish it to be restored to my father.”

Mrs. Jasher shrugged her plump shoulders.

“Your father and Don Pedro can arrange that themselves. All I desire is, that the mummy should be found. Undoubtedly it belongs by purchase to the Professor, but as it has been stolen, this Peruvian gentleman may claim it. Well?”

“I shall come and Archie also,” assented Lucy, who was beginning to be interested in the matter. “The affair is somewhat romantic.”

“Criminal, my dear, criminal,” said Mrs. Jasher, rising to take her leave. “It is not a matter I care to mix myself up with. Still” – she laughed – “you know, why I am doing so.”

“If I had to take all this trouble to gain a husband,” observed Lucy somewhat acidly, “I should remain single all my life.”

“If you were as lonely as I am,” retorted the plump widow, “you would do your best to secure a man toy look after you. I should prefer a young and handsomer husband – such as Sir Frank Random, for instance but, as beggars cannot be choosers, I must content myself with old age, a famous scientist, and the chance of a possible title. Now mind, dear, to-night at seven – not a minute later,” and she bustled away to prepare for the reception of her guests.

It seemed to Lucy that Mrs. Jasher was taking a great deal of trouble to become Mrs. Braddock, especially as the Professor’s brother might live for many a long day yet, in which case the widow would not gain the title she coveted for years. However, the girl rather sympathized with Mrs. Jasher, who was a companionable soul, and fond of society. Circumstances condemned her to a somewhat lonely life in an isolated cottage in a rather dull neighborhood, so it was little to be wondered at that she should strive to move heaven and earth – as she was doing – in the hope of escaping from her solitude. Besides, although Miss Kendal did not wish to make a close companion of the widow, yet she did not dislike her, and, moreover, thought that she would make Professor Braddock a very presentable wife. Thinking thus, Lucy was quite willing to forward Mrs. Jasher’s plans by inducing Don Pedro to tell all he knew about this missing mummy.

Thus it came about that six people assembled in the tiny pink parlor of Mrs. Jasher at the hour of seven o’clock. It required dexterous management to seat the whole company in the dining room, which was only a trifle larger than the parlor. However, Mrs. Jasher contrived to place them round her hospitable board in, a fairly comfortable fashion, and, once seated, the dinner was so good that no one felt the drawbacks of scanty elbow room. The widow, as hostess, was placed at the head of the table; Don Pedro, as the eldest of the men, at the foot; and Sir Frank, with Donna Inez, faced Archie and Lucy Kendal. Jane, who was well instructed in waiting by her mistress, attended to her duties admirably, acting both as footman and butler. Lucy, indeed, had offered Mrs. Jasher the services of Cockatoo to hand round the wine, but the widow with a pretty shudder had declined.

“That dreadful creature with his yellow mop of hair gives me the shivers,” she declared.

Considering the isolation of the district, and the narrow limits of Mrs. Jasher’s income, the meal was truly, admirable, being well cooked and well served, while the table was arrayed like an altar for the reception of the various dishes. Whatever Mrs. Jasher might be as an adventuress, she certainly proved herself to be a capital housekeeper, and Lucy foresaw that, if she did become Mrs. Braddock, the Professor would fare sumptuously, for the rest of his scientific life. When the meal was ended the widow produced a box of superfine cigars and another of cigarettes, after which she left the gentlemen to sip their wine, and took her two young friends to chatter chiffons in the tiny parlor. And it said much for Mrs. Jasher’s methodical ways that, considering the limited space, everything went – as the saying goes – like clockwork. Likewise, the widow had proved herself a wonderful hostess, as she kept the ball of conversation rolling briskly and induced a spirit of fraternity, uncommon in an ordinary dinner party.

During the meal Mrs. Jasher had kept off the subject of the mummy, which was the excuse for the entertainment; but when the gentlemen strolled into the parlor, feeling well fed and happy, she hinted at Don Pedro’s quest. As the night was cold and the Peruvian gentleman came from the tropics, he was established in a well padded arm-chair close to the sea-coal fire, and with her own fair hands Mrs. Jasher gave him a cup of fragrant coffee, which was rendered still more agreeable to the palate by the introduction of a vanilla bean. With this and with a good cigar – for the ladies gave the gentlemen permission to smoke – Don Pedro felt very happy and easy, and complimented Mrs. Jasher warmly on her capability of making her fellow-creatures comfortable.

“It is altogether comfortable, madame,” said Don Pedro, rising to make a courtly bow. In fact, so agreeable was the foreigner that Mrs. Jasher dreamed for one swift moment of throwing over the dry-as-dust scientist to become a Spanish lady of Lima.

“You flatter me, Don Pedro,” she said, waving a wholly unnecessary fan out of compliment to her guest’s Spanish extraction. “Indeed, I am very glad that you are pleased with my poor little house.”

“Pardon, madame, but no house can be poor when it is a casket to contain such a jewel.”

“There!” said Lucy somewhat satirically to the young men, while Mrs. Jasher blushed and bridled, “what Englishman could turn such a compliment? It reminds one of Georgian times.”

“We are more sober now than my fathers were then,” said Hope, smiling, “and I am sure if Random thought for a few minutes he could produce something pretty. Go on, Random.”

“My brain is not equal to the strain after dinner,” said Sir Frank.

As for Donna Inez, she did not speak, but sat smiling quietly in her corner of the room, looking remarkably handsome. As a young girl Lucy was pretty, and Mrs. Jasher was a comely widow, but neither one had the majestic looks of the Spanish lady. She smiled, a veritable queen amidst the gim-crack ornaments of Mrs. Jasher’s parlor, and Sir Frank, who was fathoms deep in love, could not keep his eyes off her face.

For a few minutes the conversation was frivolous, quite the Shakespeare and musical glasses kind of speech. Then Mrs. Jasher, who had no idea that her good dinner should be wasted in charming nothings, introduced the subject of the mummy by a reference to Professor Braddock. It was characteristic of her cleverness that she did not address Don Pedro, but pointed her speech at Lucy Kendal.

“I do hope your father will return with that mummy,” she observed, after a dexterous allusion to the late tragedy.

“I don’t think he has gone to look for it,” replied Miss Kendal indifferently.

“But surely he desired to get it back, after paying nearly one thousand pounds for it,” said Mrs. Jasher, with well-feigned astonishment.

“Oh, of course; but he would scarcely look for it in London.”

“Has Professor Braddock gone to search for the mummy?” asked Don Pedro.

“No,” answered Lucy. “He is visiting the British Museum to make some researches in the Egyptian department.”

“When do you expect him back, please?”

Lucy shrugged her shoulders.

“I can’t say, Don Pedro. My father comes and goes as the whim takes him.”

The Spanish gentleman looked thoughtfully into the fire.

“I shall be glad to see the Professor when he returns,” he said in his excellent, slow-sounding English. “My concern about this mummy is deep.”

“Dear me,” remarked Mrs. Jasher, shielding her fair cheek with the unnecessary fan, and venturing on a joke, “is the mummy a relative?”

“Yes, madame,” replied Don Pedro, gravely and unexpectedly.

At this every one, very naturally, looked astonished – that is, all save Donna Inez, who still preserved her fixed smile. Mrs. Jasher took a mental note of the same, and decided that the young lady was not very intelligent. Meanwhile Don Pedro continued his speech after a glance round the circle.

“I have the blood of the royal Inca race in my veins,” he said with pride.

“Ha!” murmured the widow to herself, “then that accounts for your love of color, which is so un-English;” then she raised her voice. “Tell us all about it, Don Pedro,” she entreated; “we are usually so dull here that a romantic story excites us dreadfully.”

“I do not know that it is very romantic,” said Don Pedro with a polite smile, “and if you will not find it dull – ”

“Oh, no!” said Archie, who was as anxious as Mrs. Jasher to hear what was to be said about the mummy. “Come, sir, we are all attention.”

Don Pedro bowed again, and again swept the circle with his deep-set eyes.

“The Inca Caxas,” he remarked, “was one of the decadent rulers of ancient Peru. At the Conquest by the Spaniards, Inca Atahuallpa was murdered by Pizarro, as you probably know. Inca Toparca succeeded him as a puppet king. He died also, and it was suspected that he was slain by a native chief called Challcuchima. Then Manco succeeded, and is looked upon by historians as the last Inca of Peru. But he was not.”

“This is news, indeed,” said Random lazily. “And who was the last Inca?”

“The man who is now the green mummy.”

“Inca Caxas,” ventured Lucy timidly.

Don Pedro looked at her sharply. “How do you come to know the name?”

“You mentioned it just now, but, before that, I heard my father mention it,” said Lucy, who was surprised at the sharpness of his tone.

“And where did the Professor learn the name?” asked Don Pedro anxiously.

Lucy shook her head.

“I cannot say. But go on with the story,” she continued, with the naive curiosity of a child.

“Yes, do,” pleaded Mrs. Jasher, who was listening with all her ears.

The Peruvian meditated for a few minutes, then slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat and brought out a discolored parchment, scrawled and scribbled with odd-looking letters in purple ink somewhat faded.

“Did you ever see this before?” he asked Lucy, “or any manuscript like it?”

“No,” she answered, bending forward to examine the parchment carefully.

Don Pedro again swept an inquiring eye round the circle, but everyone denied having seen the manuscript.

“What is it?” asked Sir Frank curiously.

Don Pedro restored the manuscript to his pocket.

“It is an account of the embalming of Inca Caxas, written by his son, who was my ancestor.”

“Then you are descended from this Inca?” said Mrs. Jasher eagerly.

“I am. Had I my rights I should rule Peru. As it is, I am a poor gentleman with very little money. That,” added Don Pedro with emphasis, “is why I wish to recover the mummy of my great ancestor.”

“Is it then so valuable?” asked Archie suddenly. He was thinking of some reason why the mummy should have been stolen.

“Well, in itself it is of no great value, save to an archaeologist,” was Don Pedro’s reply; “but I had better tell you the story of how it was stolen from my father.”

“Go on, go on,” cried Mrs. Jasher. “This is most interesting.”

Don Pedro plunged into his story without further preamble.

“Inca Caxas held his state amidst the solitudes of the Andes, away from the cruel men who had conquered his country. He died and was buried. This manuscript,” – he touched his pocket – “was written by his son, and details the ceremonies, the place of sepulchre, and also gives a list of the jewels with which the mummy was buried.”

“Jewels,” murmured Hope under his breath. “I thought as much.”

“The son of Inca Caxas married a Spanish lady and made peace with the Spaniards. He came to live at Cuzco, and brought with him, for some purpose which the manuscript does not disclose, the mummy of his father. But the manuscript was lost for years, and although my family – the De Gayangoses – became poor, no member of it knew that, concealed in the corpse of Inca Caxas, were two large emeralds of immense value. The mummy of our royal ancestor was treated as a sacred thing and venerated accordingly. Afterwards my family came to live at Lima, and I still dwell in the old house.”

“But how was the mummy stolen from you?” asked Random curiously.

“I am coming to that,” said Don Pedro, frowning at the interruption. “I was not in Lima at the time; but I had met the man who stole the precious mummy.”