"Oh, let the Professor have it," said Hope good-naturedly.

"No! no! no!"

Random laughed.

"I shall make the check payable to you, Miss Kendal, and you can give it to whomsoever you choose," he said; "and now, as everything has been settled so far, I suggest that we should retire."

"Come to my rooms at the inn," said Don Pedro, opening the door. "I have much to say to you. Good night, Professor; to-morrow let us go to Pierside and see if we cannot get at the truth."

"And to-morrow," cried Random, "I shall send the check, sir."

When the company departed, Lucy had another wrangle with her father about the check. As Archie had gone away, she could speak freely, and pointed out that he was enjoying her mother's income and was about to marry Mrs. Jasher, who was rich.

"Therefore," argued Lucy, "you certainly do not want to keep poor Archie's money."

"He paid me that sum on condition that I consented to the wedding."

"He did nothing of the sort," she cried indignantly. "I am not going to be bought and sold in this manner. Archie lent you the money, and it must be returned. Don't force me to think you selfish, father."

The upshot of the argument was that Lucy got her own way, and the Professor rather unwillingly agreed to part with the mummy and restore the thousand pounds. But he regretted doing so, as he wished to get all the money he could to go towards his proposed Egyptian expedition, and Mrs. Jasher's fortune, as he assured his step-daughter, was not so large as might be thought. However, Lucy overruled him, and retired to bed, congratulating herself that she would soon be able to marry Hope. She was beginning to grow a trifle weary of the Professor's selfish nature, and wondered how her mother had put up with it for so long.

Next day Braddock did not go with Don Pedro to Pierside, as he was very busy in his museum. The Peruvian went alone, and Archie, after a morning's work at his easel, sought out Widow Anne to ask questions. Lucy and Donna Inez paid an afternoon visit to Mrs. Jasher and found her in bed, as she had caught a mild sort of influenza. They expected to find Sir Frank here, but it seemed that he had not called. Thinking that he was detained by military business, the girls thought nothing more of his absence, although Donna Inez was somewhat downcast.

But Random was detained in his quarters by a letter which had arrived by the mid-day host, and which surprised him not a little. The postmark was London, and the writing, evidently a disguised hand, was almost illegible in its crudeness. The contents ran as follows, and it will be noticed that there is neither date nor address, and that it is written in the third person:

"If Sir Frank Random wants his character to be cleared and all suspicion of murder to be removed from him, he can be completely exonerated by the writer, if he will pay the same five thousand pounds. If Sir Frank Random is willing to do this, let him appoint a meeting-place in London, and the writer will send a messenger to receive the money and to hand over the proofs which will clear Sir Frank Random. If Sir Frank Random plays the writer false, or communicates with the police, proofs will be forthcoming which will prove him to be guilty of Sidney Bolton's death, and which will bring him to the scaffold without any chance of escape. A couple of lines in the Agony Column of The Daily Telegraph, signed 'Artillery,' and appointing a meeting-place, will suffice; but beware of treachery."



CHAPTER XXI. A STORY OF THE PAST

Mrs. Jasher's influenza proved to be very mild indeed.

When Donna Inez de Gayangos and Lucy paid a visit to her on the afternoon of the day succeeding the explanations in the museum, she was certainly in bed, and explained that she had been there since the Professor's visit on the previous day. Lucy was surprised at this, as she had left Mrs. Jasher perfectly well, and Braddock had not mentioned any ailment of the widow. But influenza, as Mrs. Jasher observed, was very rapid in its action, and she was always susceptible to disease from the fact that in Jamaica she had suffered from malaria. Still, she was feeling better and intended to rise from her bed on that evening, if only to lie on the couch in the pink drawing-room. Having thus detailed her reasons for being ill, the widow asked for news.

As no prohibition had been placed upon Lucy with regard to Hervey's visit and as Mrs. Jasher would be one of the family when she married the Professor, Miss Kendal had no hesitation in reporting all that had taken place. The narrative excited Mrs. Jasher, and she frequently interrupted with expressions of wonder. Even Donna Inez grew eloquent, and told the widow how she had defended Sir Frank against the American skipper.

"What a dreadfully wicked man!" said Mrs. Jasher, when in possession of all the facts. "I really believe that he did kill poor Sidney."

"No," said Lucy decisively, "I don't think that. He would have murdered him on board had he intended the crime, as he could have done so with more safety. He is as innocent as Sir Frank."

"And no one dare say a word against him," cried Donna Inez with flashing eyes.

"He has a good defender, my dear," said the widow, patting the girl's hand.

"I love him," said Donna Inez, as if that explained everything, and perhaps it did, so far as she was concerned.

Mrs. Jasher smiled indulgently, then turned for further information to Lucy.

"Can it be possible," she said, "that Widow Anne is guilty?"

"Oh, I don't think so. She would not murder her own son, especially when she was so very fond of him. Archie told me, just before we came here, that he had called to see her. She still insists that Sidney borrowed the clothes, saying that Archie wanted them."

"What do you make of that, my dear?"

"Well," said Miss Kendal, pondering, "either Widow Anne herself was the woman who talked to Sidney through the Sailor's Rest window, and has invented this story to save herself, or Sidney did get the clothes and intended to use them as a disguise when he fled with the emeralds."

"In that case," said Mrs. Jasher, "the woman who talked through the window still remains a problem. Again, if Sidney Bolton intended to steal the emeralds, he could have done so in Malta, or on board the boat."

"No," said Lucy decisively. "The mummy was taken directly from the seller's house to the boat, and perhaps Sidney did not find the manuscript until he looked at the mummy. Then Captain Hervey kept an eye on Sidney, so that he could not open the mummy to steal the emeralds."

"Still, according to your own showing, Sidney looked at the actual mummy—he opened the mummy case, that is, else he could not have got the manuscript."

Lucy nodded.

"I think so, but of course we cannot be sure. But the packing case in which the mummy was stowed was placed in the hold of the steamer, and if Sidney had wished to steal the emeralds, he could not have done so without exciting Captain Hervey's suspicions."

"Then let us say that Sidney robbed the mummy when in the Sailor's Rest, and took the clothes he borrowed from his mother in order to fly in disguise. But what of the woman?"

Lucy shook her head.

"I cannot tell. We may learn more later. Don Pedro has gone to Pierside to search, and my father says that he will send Cockatoo there also to search."

"Well," sighed Mrs. Jasher wearily, "I hope that all this trouble will come to an end. That green mummy has proved most unlucky. Leave me now, dear girls, as I feel somewhat tired."

"Good-bye," said Lucy, kissing her. "I hope that you will be better this evening. Don't get up unless you feel quite able."

"Oh, I shall take my ease in the drawing-room."

"I thought you always called it the parlor," laughed the girl.

"Ah," Mrs. Jasher smiled, "you see I am practicing against the time when I shall be mistress of the Pyramids, You can't call that large room there a parlor," and she laughed weakly.

Altogether, Mrs. Jasher impressed both Lucy and Donna Inez with the fact that she was very weak and scarcely able, as she put it, to draw one leg after the other. Both the girls would have been surprised to see what a hearty meal Mrs. Jasher made that evening, when she was up and dressed. Perhaps she felt that her strength needed keeping up, but she certainly partook largely of the delicate dinner provided by Jane, who was a most excellent cook.

After dinner, Mrs. Jasher lay on a pink couch in the pink parlor by a splendid fire, for the night was cold and raw with a promise of rain. The widow had a small table at her elbow, on which stood a cup of coffee and a glass of liquor. The rose-colored curtains were drawn, the rose-shaded lamps were lighted, and the whole interior of the cottage looked very comfortable indeed. Mrs. Jasher, in a crocus-yellow tea-gown trimmed with rich black lace, reclined on her couch like Cleopatra in her barge. In the pink light she looked very well preserved, although her face wore an anxious expression. This was due to the fact that the mail had come in and the three letters brought by the postman had to do with creditors. Mrs. Jasher was always trying to make both ends meet, and had a hard struggle to keep her head above water. Certainly, since she had inherited the money of her brother, the Pekin merchant, she need not have looked so worried. But she did, and made no disguise of it, seeing that she was quite alone.

After a time she went to her desk and took out a bundle of bills and some other letters, also an account book and a bank book. Over these she pored for quite an hour. The clock struck nine before she looked up from this unpleasant task, and she found her financial position anything but satisfactory. With a weary sigh she rose and stared at herself in the mirror over the fireplace, frowning as she did so.

"Unless I can marry the Professor at once, I don't know what will happen to me," she mused gloomily. "I have managed very well so far, but things are coming to a crisis. These devils," she alluded to her creditors, "will not keep off much longer, and then the crash will come. I shall have to leave Gartley as poor as when I came, and there will be nothing left but the old nightmare life of despair and horror. I am getting older every day, and this is my last chance of getting married. I must force the Professor to have a speedy marriage. I must! I must!" and she began to pace the tiny room in a frenzy of terror and well-founded alarm.

As she was trying to calm herself and succeeding very badly, Jane entered the room with a card. It proved to be that of Sir Frank Random.

"It is rather a late hour for a visit," said Mrs. Jasher to the servant. "However, I feel so bored, that perhaps he will cheer me up. Ask him to come in."

When Jane left, she stood still for a moment or so, trying to think why the young man had called at so untoward an hour. But when his footsteps were heard approaching the door, she swept the books and the bills and the letters into the desk and locked it quickly. When Random appeared at the door, she was just leaving the desk to greet him, and no one would have taken the smiling, plump, well-preserved woman for the creature who lately had looked so haggard and careworn.

"I am glad to see you, Sir Frank," said Mrs. Jasher, nodding in a familiar manner. "Sit down in this very comfortable chair, and Jane shall bring you some coffee and kummel."

"No, thank you," said Random in his usual stiff way, but very politely. "I have just left the mess, where I had a good dinner."

Mrs. Jasher nodded, and sank again on the couch, which was opposite the chair which she had selected for her visitor.

"I see you are in mess kit," she said gayly; "quite a glorified creature to appear in my poor little parlor. Why are you not with Donna Inez? I have heard all about your engagement from Lucy. She was here to-day with Senorita De Gayangos."

"So I believe," said Random, still stiffly; "but you see I was anxious to come and see you."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Jasher equably, "you heard that I was ill. Yes; I have been in bed ever since yesterday afternoon, until a couple of hours ago. But I am now better. My dinner has done me good. Pass me that fan, please. The fire is so hot."

Sir Frank did as he was told, and she held the feather fan between her face and the fire, while he stared at her, wondering what to say.

"Don't you find this atmosphere very stuffy?" he remarked at length. "It would be a good thing to have the windows open."

Mrs. Jasher shrieked.

"My dear boy, are you mad? I have a touch of the influenza, and an open window would bring about my death. Why, this room is delightfully comfortable."

"There is such a strong perfume about it," sniffed Random pointedly.

"I should think you knew that scent by this time, Sir Frank. I use no other and never have done. Smell!" and she passed a flimsy handkerchief of lace.

Random took the handkerchief and placed it to his nostrils. As he did so a strange expression of triumph crept into his eyes.

"I think you told me once that it was a Chinese perfume," he said, returning the handkerchief.

Mrs. Jasher nodded, well pleased.

"I get it from a friend of my late husband who is in the British Embassy at Pekin. No one uses it but me."

"But surely some other person uses it?"

"Not in England; and I do not know why you should say so. It is a specialty of mine. Why," she added playfully, "if you met me in the dark you should know me, by this scent."

"Can you swear that no one else has ever used this perfume?" asked Random.

Mrs. Jasher lifted her penciled eyebrows.

"I do not know why you should ask me to swear," she said quietly, "but I assure you that I keep this perfume which comes from China to myself. Not even Lucy Kendal has it, although she greatly desired some. We women are selfish in some things, my dear man. It's a most delicious perfume."

"Yes," said Sir Frank, staring at her, "and very strong."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Only I should think that such a perfume would be good for the cold you contracted by going to London last night."

Mrs. Jasher turned suddenly pale under her rouge, and her hand clenched the fan so tightly as to break the handle.

"I have not been to London for quite a month," she faltered. "What a strange remark!"

"A true one," said the baronet, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket. "You went to London last night by the seven o'clock train to post this," and he held out the anonymous letter.

The widow, now quite pale, and looking years older, sat up on the couch with a painful effort, which suggested old age.

"I don't understand," she said, trying to speak calmly. "I was not in London, and I did not post any letter. If you came here to insult me—"

"There can be no insult in asking a few questions," said Random, throwing aside his stiffness and speaking decisively. "I received this letter, which bears a London postmark, by the mid-day post. The handwriting is disguised, and there is neither address nor signature nor date. You manufactured your communication very cleverly, Mrs. Jasher, but you forgot that the Chinese perfume might betray you."

"The perfume! the perfume!" Mrs. Jasher gasped and saw in a moment how the late conversation had led her to fall into a trap.

"The letter retains traces of the perfume you use," went on the baronet relentlessly. "I have a remarkably keen sense of smell, and, as scent is a most powerful aid to memory, I speedily recollected that you used this especial perfume. You told me a few moments ago that no one else used it, and so you have proved the truth of my statement that this letter"—he tapped it—"is written by you."

"It's a lie—a mistake," stuttered Mrs. Jasher, now at bay and looking dangerous. Her society veneer was stripped off, and the adventuress pure and simple came to the surface.

Indignant at the way in which she had deceived everyone, and having much at stake, Random did not spare her.

"It is not a mistake," he insisted; "neither is it a lie. When I became aware that you must have written the letter, I drove at once to Jessum to see if you had gone to London, as you had posted it there. I learned from the station master and from a porter that you went to town by the seven o'clock train and returned by the midnight."

Mrs. Jasher leaped to her feet.

"They could not recognize me. I wore—" Then she stopped, confused at having so plainly betrayed herself.

"You wore a veil. All the same, Mrs. Jasher, you are too well known hereabouts for anyone to fail to recognize you. Besides, your remark just now proves that I am right. You wrote this blackmailing letter, and I demand an explanation."

"I have none to give," muttered the woman fiercely, and fighting every inch.

"If you refuse to explain to me you shall to the police," said Sir Frank, rising and making for the door.

Mrs. Jasher flung herself forward and clung to him.

"For God's sake, don't!"

"Then you will explain? You will tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Who murdered Sidney Bolton."

"I do not know. I swear I do not know," she cried feverishly.

"That is ridiculous," said Random coldly. "You say in this letter that you can hang me or save me. As you know that I am innocent, you must be aware who is guilty."

"It's all bluff. I know nothing," said Mrs. Jasher, releasing his arm and throwing herself on the couch. "I only wished to get money."

"Five thousand pounds—eh? Rather a large order," sneered Random, replacing the letter in his pocket. "You would not ask that sum for nothing: you must be aware of the truth. I suspected many people, Mrs. Jasher, but never you."

The woman rose and flung out her arms.

"No," she said in a deep voice, and fighting like a rat in a corner. "I tricked you all down here. Sir Frank, I will tell you the truth."

"About the murder?"

"I know nothing of that. About myself."

Random shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll hear about yourself first," he said. "I can learn details concerning the murder later. Go on."

"I know nothing of the murder or of the theft of the emeralds—"

"Yet you hid the mummy in this house, and afterwards placed it in your arbor to be found by the Professor, for some reason."

"I know nothing about that either," muttered Mrs. Jasher doggedly, and with very white lips. "That letter you have traced to me is all bluff."

"Then you admit having written it?"

"Yes," she said sullenly. "You know too much, and it is useless for me to deny the truth in the face of the evidence you bring against me. I would fight though," she added, raising her head like a snake its crest, "if I was not sick and tired of fighting."

"Fighting?"

"Yes, against trouble and worry and money difficulties and creditors. Oh," she struck her breast, "what do you know of life, you rich, easy-going man? I have been in the depths, and not through my own fault. I had a bad mother, a bad husband. I was dragged in the mire by those who should have helped me to rise. I have starved for days; I have wept for years; in all God's earth there is no more miserable a creature than I am."

"Kindly talk without so much melodrama," said Random cruelly.

"Ah," Mrs. Jasher sat down and locked her hands together, "you don't believe me. I daresay you don't understand, for life, real life, is a sealed book to you. It is useless for me to appeal to your sympathy, for you are so very ignorant. Let us stick to facts. What do you wish to know?"

"Who killed Sidney Bolton: who has the emeralds."

"I can't tell you. Listen! With my past life you have nothing to do. I will commence from the time I came down here. I had just lost my husband, and I managed to scrape together a few hundred pounds—oh, quite in a respectable way, I assure you," she added scoffingly, on seeing her listener wince. "I came here to try and live quietly, and, if possible, to secure a rich husband. I knew that the Fort was here and thought that I might marry an officer. However, the Professor's position attracted me, and I decided to marry him. I am engaged, and but for your cleverness in tracing that letter I should be Mrs. Braddock within a very short time. I have exhausted all my money. I am deeply, in debt. I cannot hold out longer."

"But the money you inherited—"

"That is all bluff also. I never had a brother. I inherit no money. I know nothing of Pekin, save that a friend of mine sends that scent to me as a yearly Christmas present. I am an adventuress, but perhaps not so bad as you think me. Lucy and Donna Inez have heard no wickedness from my lips. I have always been a good woman in one sense—a moral woman, that is—and I did wish to marry the Professor and live a happy life. Seeing that I was at the end of my resources, and that Professor Braddock expected a legacy with me before marriage, I looked round to, see how I could get the money. I heard that you were accused by Captain Hervey, and so last night I wrote that letter and posted it in London, thinking that you would yield to save yourself from arrest."

Random laughed cynically.

"You must have thought me weak," he muttered.

"I did," said Mrs. Jasher frankly. "To tell you the truth, I thought that you were a fool. But by tracing that letter and withstanding my demand, you have proved yourself to be more clever than I took you to be. Well, that is all. I know nothing of the murder. My letter is sheer bluff to extort from you five thousand pounds. Had you paid I should have passed it off to the Professor as the money left to me by my brother. But now—"

"Now," said Random, rising to go, "I shall tell what you have told me to the Professor, and—"

"And hand me over to the police," said Mrs. Jasher, shrugging her plump shoulders, "Well, I expected that. Yet I fancied for old times' sake that you might have been more lenient."

"We were never anything but acquaintances, Mrs. Jasher," said Random coldly, "so I fail to see why you should expect mercy after the way in which you have behaved. You expect to blackmail me, and yet go free. I must punish you somehow, so I shall tell Professor Braddock, as you certainly cannot marry him. But I shall not hand you over to the police."

"You won't?" Mrs. Jasher stared, scarcely able to believe her ears.

"No. Give me a day to think over matters, and I shall arrange what to do with you. I think there is some good in you, Mrs. Jasher, and so I shall see if I can't assist you. In the meantime I shall have your cottage watched, so that you may not run away."

"In that case, you may as well hand me over to the police," she said bitterly.

"Not at all," rejoined Random coolly. "I can trust my servant, who is stupid but honest and is devoted to me. I'll see that everything is kept quiet. But if you attempt to run away I shall have you arrested for blackmail. You understand?"

"Yes. You are treating me very well," she gasped. "When shall I see you?"

"To-morrow evening. I must talk the matter over with Braddock. To-morrow I shall arrange what to do, and probably I shall give you a chance of leading a new life in some other part of the world. What do you say?"

"I accept. Indeed, there is nothing else left for me to do."

"That is an ungrateful speech," said Random severely.

"I daresay. However, we can talk of gratitude to-morrow. Meanwhile, please leave me."

Sir Frank went to the door and there paused.

"Remember," he said distinctly, "that your cottage is being watched. Try to escape and I shall have you arrested."

Mrs. Jasher groaned and buried her face in the sofa cushion.



CHAPTER XXII. A WEDDING PRESENT

Mrs. Jasher had thought Random exceedingly clever in acting as he had done to trap her. She would have thought him still more clever had she known that he trusted to the power of suggestion to prevent her from trying to escape. Sir Frank had not the slightest intention of setting his soldier-servant to watch, as such was not the duty for which such servants are hired. But having impressed firmly on the adventuress's mind that he would act in this way, he departed, quite certain that the woman would not attempt to run away. Although no one was watching the cottage, Mrs. Jasher, believing what had been told her, would think that sharp eyes were on her doors and windows day and night, and would firmly believe that if she tried to get away she would be captured forthwith by the Pierside police, or perhaps by the village constable. Like an Eastern enchanter, the baronet had placed a spell on the cottage, and it acted admirably. Mrs. Jasher, although longing to escape and hide herself, remained where she was, cowed by a spy who did not exist.

The next day Random went to the Pyramids as soon as his duties permitted and saw the Professor. To the prospective bridegroom he explained all that had happened, and displayed the anonymous letter, with an account of how he had proved Mrs. Jasher to be the writer. Braddock's hair could not stand on end, as he had none, but he lost his temper completely, and raged up and down the museum in a way which frightened Cockatoo out of his barbaric wits. When more quiet he sat down to discuss the matter, and promptly demanded that Mrs. Jasher should be handed over to the police. But he might have guessed that Sir Frank would refuse to follow this extreme advice.

"She has acted badly, I admit," said the young man. "All the same, I think she is a better woman than you may think, Professor."

"Think! think! think!" shouted the fiery little man, getting up once more to trot up and down like an infuriated poodle. "I think she is a bad woman, a wicked woman. To deceive me into thinking her rich and—"

"But surely, Professor, you wished to marry her also for love?"

"Nothing of the sort, sir: nothing of the sort. I leave love and such-like trash to those like yourself and Hope, who have nothing else to think about."

"But a marriage without love—"

"Pooh! pooh! pooh! Don't argue with me, Random. Love is all moonshine. I did not love my first wife—Lucy's mother—and yet we were very happy. Had I made Mrs. Jasher my second, we should have got on excellently, provided the money was forthcoming for my Egyptian expedition. What am I to do now, I ask you, Random? Even the thousand pounds you pay for the mummy goes back to that infernal Hope because of Lucy's silly ideas. I have nothing—absolutely nothing, and that tomb is amongst those Ethiopian hills, I swear, waiting to be opened. Oh, what a chance I have missed!—what a chance! But I shall see Mrs. Jasher myself. She knows about this murder."

"She declares that she does not."

"Don't tell me! don't tell me!" vociferated the Professor. "She would not have written that letter had she known nothing."

"That was bluff. I explained all that."

"Bluff be hanged!" cried Braddock, only he used a more vigorous word. "I do not believe that she would have dared to act on such a slight foundation. I shall see her myself this very afternoon and force her to confess. In one way or another I shall find the assassin and make him disgorge those emeralds under the penalty of being hanged. Then I can sell them and finance my Egyptian expedition."

"But you forget, Professor, that the emeralds, when found, belong to Don Pedro."

"They don't," rasped the little man, turning purple with rage. "I refuse to let him have them. I bought the mummy, and the contents of the mummy, including those emeralds. They are mine."

"No," said Random sharply. "I buy the mummy, from you, so they pass into my possession and belong to De Gayangos. I shall give them to him."

"You'll have to find them first," said Braddock savagely; "and as to the mummy, you shan't have it. I decline to sell it. So there!"

"If you don't," said Random very distinctly, "Don Pedro will bring an action against you, and Captain Hervey will be called as a witness to prove that the mummy was stolen."

"Don Pedro hasn't the money," said Braddock triumphantly; "he can't pay lawyer's fees."

"But I can," rejoined the young man very dryly. "As I am going to marry Donna Inez, it is only just that I should help my future father-in-law in every way. He has a romantic feeling about this relic of poor humanity and wishes to take it back to Peru. He shall do so."

"And what about me?—what about me?"

"Well," said Random, speaking slowly with the intention of still further irritating the little man, whose selfishness annoyed him, "if I were you I should marry Mrs. Jasher and settle down quietly in this house to live on what income you have."

Braddock turned purple again and spluttered.

"How dare you make a proposition like that to me, sir?" he bellowed. "You ask me to marry this low woman, this adventuress, this—this—this—" Words failed him.

Of course Random had no intention of advising such a marriage, although he did not think so badly of Mrs. Jasher as did the Professor. But the little man was so venomous that the young man took a delight in stirring him up, using the widow's name as a red rag to this particular bull.

"I do not think Mrs. Jasher is a bad woman," he remarked.

"What! what! what! After what she has done? Blackmail! blackmail! blackmail!"

"That is bad, I admit, but she has failed to get what she wanted, and, after all, you indirectly are the cause of her writing that blackmailing letter."

"I am?—I am? How dare you?"

"You see, she wanted to get five thousand out of me as her dowry."

"Yes, and told me lies about her damned brother who was a Pekin merchant, when after all he never existed."

"Oh, I don't defend that," said Random coolly. "Mrs. Jasher has behaved badly on the whole. Still, Professor, I think there is good in her, as I said before. She evidently had bad parents and a bad husband; but, so far as I can gather, she is not an immoral woman. The poor wretch only came here to try and drag herself out of the mire. If she had married you I feel sure that she would have made you a most excellent wife."

The Professor was in such a rage that he suddenly became calm.

"Of course you talk absolute rubbish," he said caustically. "Had I my way this woman would be whipped at a cart's tail for the shameful way in which she has deceived us all. However, I shall see her to-day and make her confess who murdered Bolton."

"Don Pedro will be greatly obliged if you do. He wants those emeralds."

"So do I, and if I get them I shall keep them," snapped Braddock; "and if you haven't anything more to say you can leave me. I'm busy."

As there was nothing more to be done with the choleric little man, Sir Frank took the hint and departed. He went forthwith to the Warrior Inn to see Don Pedro and also Donna Inez. But it so happened that the girl had gone to the Pyramids on a visit to Miss Kendal, and Random was sorry that he had missed her. However, it was just as well, as he could now talk freely to De Gayangos. To him he related the whole story of Mrs. Jasher, and discovered that the Peruvian also, as Braddock had done, insisted that Mrs. Jasher knew the truth.

"She would not have written that letter if she did not know it," said Don Pedro.

"Then you think that she should be arrested?"

"No. We can deal with this matter ourselves. At present she is quite safe, as she certainly will not leave her cottage, seeing that she thinks it is being watched. Let us permit Braddock to interview her, and see what he can learn. Then we can discuss the matter and come to a decision."

Random nodded absently.

"I wonder if Mrs. Jasher was the woman who talked to Bolton through the window?" he remarked.

"It is not impossible. Although that does not explain why Bolton borrowed a female disguise from this mother."

"Mrs. Jasher might have worn it."

"That would argue some understanding between Bolton and Mrs. Jasher, and a knowledge of the manuscript before Bolton left for Malta. We know that he could only have seen the manuscript for the first time at Malta. It was evidently stowed away in the swathings of the mummy by my father, who forgot all about it when he gave me the original."

"Hervey forgot also. I wonder if that is true?"

"I am certain it is," said Don Pedro emphatically, "for, if Hervey, or Vasa, or whatever you like to call him, had found that manuscript and had got it translated, he certainly would have opened the mummy and have secured the emeralds. No, Sir Frank, I believe that his theory is partly true. Bolton intended to run away with the emeralds, and send the empty mummy to Professor Braddock; for, if you remember, he arranged that the landlord of the Sailor's Rest should forward the case next morning, even if he happened to be away. Bolton intended to be away—with the emeralds."

"Then you do not believe that Hervey placed the manuscript in my room?"

"He declared most emphatically that he did not," said Don Pedro, "when at Pierside yesterday I went to the Sailor's Rest and saw him. He told Braddock only the other day that he had lost his chance of a sailing vessel, and, as yet, had not got another one. But when he returned to Pierside he found a letter waiting him—so he told me—giving him command of a four thousand ton tramp steamer called The Firefly. He is to sail at once—to-morrow, I believe."

"Then what is he going to do about this murder business?"

"He can do nothing at present, as, if he remains in Pierside, he will lose his new command. To-morrow he drops down stream, but meantime he intends to write out the whole story of the theft of the mummy. I have promised to give him fifty pounds for doing so, as I want to get back the mummy, free of charge, from Braddock."

"I think Braddock will stick to the mummy in any event," said Random grimly.

"Not when Hervey writes out his evidence. He will not have it completed by the time he sails, as he is very busy. But he has promised to send off a boat to the jetty near the Fort to-morrow evening, when he is dropping down stream. I shall be there with fifty pounds in gold."

"Supposing he fails to stop or send the boat?"

"Then he will not get his fifty pounds," retorted Don Pedro. "The man is a rascal, and deserves prison rather than reward, but since the mummy was stolen by him thirty years back, he alone can prove my ownership."

"But why take all this trouble?" argued the baronet. "I can buy the mummy from Braddock."

"No," said Don Pedro. "I have a right to my own property."

Random lingered until late in the afternoon and until darkness fell, as he was anxious to see Donna Inez. But she did not appear until late. Meanwhile Archie Hope put in an appearance, having come to see Don Pedro with an account of his interview with Widow Anne. Before coming to the inn he had called on Professor Braddock, and from him had heard all about the wickedness of Mrs. Jasher. His surprise was very great.

"I should not have believed it," he declared. "Poor woman!"

"Ah," said Random, rather pleased, "you are more merciful than the Professor, Hope. He calls her a bad woman."

"Humph! I don't think that Braddock is so good that he can afford to throw a stone," said Archie rather sourly. "Mrs. Jasher has not behaved well, but I should like to hear her complete story before judging. There must be a lot of good in her, or Lucy, who has been with her a great deal, would have found her out long ago. I go by a woman's judgment of a woman. But Mrs. Jasher must have been anxious to marry."

"She was; as Professor Braddock knows," said Random quickly.

"I am not thinking of that so much as of what Widow Anne told me."

"Oh," said Don Pedro, looking up from where he was seated, "so you have seen that old woman? What does she say about the clothes?"

"She sticks to her story. Sidney, she declares, borrowed the clothes to give to me for a model. Now, I never asked Bolton to do this, so I fancy the disguise must have been intended for himself, or for Mrs. Jasher."

"But what had Mrs. Jasher to do with him?" demanded Random sharply.

"Well, it's odd," replied Hope slowly, "but Mrs. Bolton declares that her son was in love with Mrs. Jasher, and when he returned from Malta intended to marry her."

"Impossible!" cried Sir Frank. "She engaged herself to Braddock."

"But only after Bolton's death, remember."

Don Pedro nodded.

"That is true. But what you say, Mr. Hope, proves the truth of Hervey's theory."

"In what way?"

"Mrs. Jasher, as we know from what Random told us, wanted money. She would not marry a man who was poor. Bolton was poor, but of course the emeralds would make him wealthy, as they are of immense value. Probably he intended to steal them in order to marry this woman. This implicates Mrs. Jasher in the crime."

"Yes," assented Sir Frank, nodding. "But as Bolton did not know that the emeralds existed before he bought the mummy in Malta, I do not see why he should borrow a disguise beforehand for Mrs. Jasher to meet him at the Sailor's Rest."

"The thing is easily settled," said Hope impatiently. "Let us both go to Mrs. Jasher's this evening, and insist upon the truth being told. If she confesses about her secret engagement to Sidney Bolton, she may admit that the clothes were borrowed for her."

"And she may admit also that she placed the manuscript in my room," said Sir Frank after a pause. "Hervey did not place it there, but it is just possible that Mrs. Jasher, having got it from Bolton when she talked to him through the window, may have done so."

"Nonsense!" said Hope with vigorous commonsense. "Mrs. Jasher would be spotted in a moment if she had gone to your quarters. She had to pass the sentry, remember. Then, again, we have not yet proved that she was the woman in Mrs. Bolton's clothes who spoke through the window. That can all be settled if we speak to her this evening."

"Very good." Random glanced at his watch. "I must get back. Don Pedro, will you tell Inez that I shall come in this evening? We can then talk further about these matters. Hope?"

"I shall stop here, as I wish to consult Don Pedro."

Random nodded and took a reluctant departure. He dearly wished, as an engaged lover should, to remain on the chance that Donna Inez might return, but duty called him and he was forced to obey.

The night was very dark, although it was not particularly late. But there was no rain, and Random walked rapidly through the village and down the road to the Fort. He caught a glimpse of the lights of Mrs. Jasher's cottage twinkling in the distance, and smiled grimly as he thought of the invisible spell he had placed thereon. No doubt Mrs. Jasher was shivering in her Louis Quinze shoes at the idea of being watched. But then, she deserved that much punishment at least, as Random truly thought.

When entering the Fort, the sentry saluted as usual, and Random was about to pass, when the man stepped forward, holding out a brown paper package.

"Please, sir, I found this in my sentry box," he said, saluting.

Sir Frank took the packet.

"Who placed it there? and why do you give it to me?" he demanded in surprise.

"Please, sir, it's directed to you, sir, and I don't know who put it in my box, sir. I was on duty, sir, and I 'spose someone must have dropped it on the floor of the box, sir, when I was at the other end of my beat, sir. It was as dark as this, sir, and I saw nothing and heard nothing. When I come back, sir, I stepped into the box out of the rain and felt it with my feet. I struck a light, sir, and found it was for you."

Sir Frank slipped the package into his pocket and went away after a grim word or so to the sentry, advising him to be more on the alert. He was puzzled to think who had left the packet in the sentry box, and curious to know what it contained. As soon as he got to his own room, he cut the string which bound loosely the brown paper. Then, in the lamplight, there rolled out from the carelessly-tied parcel a glorious sea-green emerald of great size, radiating light like a sun. A scrap of white paper lay in the brown wrapping. On it was written, "A wedding gift for Sir Frank Random."



CHAPTER XXIII. JUST IN TIME

Of all the surprises in connection with the tragedy of the green mummy, this was surely the greatest. Sidney Bolton had undoubtedly been murdered for the sake of the emeralds, and the assassin had escaped with the spoil, for which he had sold his soul. Yet here was one of the jewels returned anonymously to Random, who could pass on the same to its rightful owner. In the midst of his amazement Sir Frank could not help chuckling when he thought how enraged Professor Braddock would be at Don Pedro's good fortune. At the eleventh hour, as it were, the Peruvian had got back his own, or at least a portion of his own.

Placing the emerald in his drawer, Random gave orders to his servant that the sentry, when off duty, should be brought before him. Just as Random finished dressing for mess—and he dressed very early, so as to devote his entire attention to solving this new problem—the soldier who had been on guard appeared. But he could tell nothing more than he had already related. When doing sentry-go immediately outside the gate of the Fort, the packet had been slipped into the box, while the man was at the far end of his beat. It was quite dark when this was done, and the soldier confessed that he had not heard a sound, much less had he seen anyone. The person who had brought the glorious gem had watched his opportunity, and, soft-footed as a cat, had stolen forward in the darkness to drop the precious parcel on the floor of the sentry box. There the man had found it by the feel of his feet, when he stepped in some time later to escape a shower. But what time had elapsed from the placing of the parcel to its discovery by the sentry it was impossible to say. It must, however, as Random calculated, have been within the hour, since, before then, it would not have been dark enough to hide the approach of the person, whether male or female, who carried a king's ransom in the brown paper parcel.

At first Random was inclined to place the sentry under arrest for having failed so much in his duty as to allow anyone to approach so near the Fort; but, as he had already reprimanded the man, and, moreover, wished to keep the fact of the recovered jewel quiet, he simply dismissed him. When alone, he sat down before the fire, wondering who could have dared so very greatly, and for what reason the emerald had been handed to him. If it had been sent to Don Pedro, or even to Professor Braddock, it would have been much more reasonable.

It first occurred to him that Mrs. Jasher, out of gratitude for the way in which he had treated her, had sent him the jewel. Remembering his former experience, he smelt the parcel, but could detect no sign of the famous Chinese scent which had proved a clue to the letter. Of course the direction on the packet and the inscribed slip of paper were in feigned handwriting, so he could gather nothing from that. Still, he did not think that Mrs. Jasher had sent the emerald. She was desperately hard up, and if she had become possessed of the gem by murder—presuming her to have been the woman who talked to Bolton through the window—she assuredly would have sold it to supply her own needs. Certainly, if guilty, she would still possess the other emerald, of equal value; but undoubtedly, had she risked her neck to gain a fortune, she would have kept the entire plunder which was likely to cost her so dear. No; whomsoever it was who had repented at the eleventh hour, Mrs. Jasher was not the person.

Perhaps Widow Anne was the woman who had talked through the window, and who had restored the emerald. But that was impossible, since Mrs. Bolton habitually took more liquor than was good for her, and would not have the nerve to deliver the jewel, much less commit the crime, the more especially as the victim was her own son. Of course she might have found out Sidney's scheme to run away with the jewels, and so would have claimed her share. But if she had been in Pierside on that evening—and her presence in Gartley had been sworn to by three or four cronies—she would have guessed who had strangled her boy. If so, not all the jewels in the world would have prevented her denouncing the criminal. With all her faults—and they were many—Mrs. Bolton was a good mother, and looked upon Sidney as the pride and joy of her somewhat dissipated life. Mrs. Bolton was certainly as innocent as Mrs. Jasher.

There remained Hervey. Random laughed aloud when the name came into his puzzled head. That buccaneer was the last person to surrender his plunder or to feel compunction in committing a crime. Once the skipper got his grip on two jewels, worth endless money, he would never let them go—not even one of them. Arguing thus, it seemed that Hervey was out of the running, and Random could think of no one else. In this dilemma he remembered that two heads were better than one, and, before going into dinner, he sent a note to Archie Hope, asking him to come to the Fort as speedily as possible.

Sir Frank was somewhat dull at dinner on that evening, and scarcely responded to the joking remarks of his brother officers. These jocularly put his preoccupation down to love, for it was an open secret that the baronet admired the fair Peruvian, although no one as yet knew that Random was legally engaged with Don Pedro's consent. The young man good-humoredly stood all the chaff hurled at him, but seized the opportunity to slip away to his quarters as soon as coffee came on the table and the smoking began. It was nine o'clock before he returned to his room, and here he found Hope waiting for him impatiently.

"I see you have been dining at the Pyramids," said Random, seeing that Hope was in evening dress.

Archie nodded.

"Yes. I don't put on this kit to have my humble chop at my lodgings. But the Professor asked me to dinner to talk over matters."

"What does he say?" asked Random, looking for the cigarette box.

"Oh, he is very angry with Mrs. Jasher, and considers that she has swindled him. He called to see her this afternoon, and—so he says—had a stormy interview with her."

"I don't wonder at that, if he speaks as he generally does," said the other grimly, and pushing along the cigarettes, "There you are! The whisky and soda are on yonder table. Make yourself comfortable, and tell me what the Professor intends to do."

"Well," said Archie, turning half round from the side table where he was pouring out the whisky, "he had already started action, by sending Cockatoo to live at the Sailor's Rest and spy on Hervey."

"What rubbish! Hervey is, going away to-morrow in The Firefly, bound for Algiers. Nothing is to be learned from him."

"So I told the Professor," said Hope, returning to the armchair near the fire, "and I mentioned that Don Pedro had induced the skipper to write out a full account of the theft of the mummy from Lima thirty years ago. I also said that the signed paper would be handed in at the Gartley jetty when The Firefly came down stream to-morrow night."

"Humph! And what did Braddock say to that?"

"Nothing much. He merely stated that whatever Hervey said toward proving the ownership of your future father-in-law, that he intended to stick to the embalmed corpse of Inca Caxas, and also that he intended to claim the emeralds when they turned up."

Random rose and went to the drawer of his desk.

"I am afraid he has lost one emerald, at all events," he said, unlocking the drawer.

"What's that?" said Hope sharply. "Why did you—oh, gosh!" He jumped up with an amazed look as Random held up the magnificent gem, from which streamed vividly green flames in the mellow lamplight. "Oh, gosh!" gasped the artist again. "Where the devil did you get that?"

"I sent for you to tell you," said Sir Frank, giving the jewel into his friend's hand and coming back to his seat. "It was found in the sentry box."

Hope stared at the great jewel and then at the soldier.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded. "How the dickens could it be found in a sentry box? You must be making a mistake."

"Not a bit of it. It was found on the floor of the box by the sentry, as I tell you, and I have sent to consult with you as to how the deuce it got there."

"Hervey," muttered Archie, fascinated by the gem.

Random shrugged his square shoulders.

"Catch that Yankee Shylock returning anything he got his grip on, even as a wedding present."

"A wedding present," said Hope, more at sea than ever. "If you don't mind giving me details, old chap, my head would buzz less."

"I rather think that it will buzz more," said Random dryly, and, producing the brown paper in which the gem had been wrapped, and the inscribed paper found within, he related all that had happened.

Archie listened quietly and did not interrupt, but the puzzled look on his face grew more pronounced.

"Well," ended Random, seeing that no remark was made when he had finished, "what do you think?"

"Lord knows! I'll go out of my mind if these sort of things come along. I am a simple sort of chap, and have no use for mysteries which beat all the detective stories I have ever read. That sort of thing is all very well in fiction, but in real life—humph! What are you going to do?"

"Give back the emerald to Don Pedro."

"Of course, though, it is given to you for a wedding present. And then?"

"Then"—Random stared into the fire—"I don't know. I asked you in to assist me."

"Willingly; but how?"

Random pondered for a few moments.

"Who sent that emerald to me, do you think?" he asked, looking squarely at the artist.

Hope meditatively turned the jewel in his long fingers.

"Why not ask Mrs. Jasher?" he suggested suddenly.

"No!" Sir Frank shook his head. "I fancied it might be her, but it cannot be. If she is guilty—as she must be, should she have sent the emerald—she would not part with her plunder when she is so hard up. I am beginning to believe, Hope, that what she said was true about the letter."

"How do you mean exactly?"

"That the letter was mere bluff and that she really knows nothing about the crime. By the way, did Braddock learn anything?"

"Not a thing. He merely said that the two of them fought. I expect Braddock stormed and Mrs. Jasher retorted. Both of them have too much tongue-music to come to any understanding. By the way—to echo, your own phrase—you had better put away this gem or I shall be strangling you myself in order to gain possession of it. The mere sight of that gorgeous color tempts me beyond my strength."

Random laughed and locked the jewel in his drawer. Hope suggested that with such a flimsy lock it was unsafe, but the baronet shook his head.

"It is safer here than in a woman's jewel case," he asserted. "No one looks to my drawer, and certainly no one would expect to find a crown jewel of this description in my quarters. Well," he came back to his seat, slipping his keys into his trouser pocket, "the whole thing puzzles me."

"Why not do as I suggest and go to Mrs. Jasher? In any case you are going there to-night, are you not?"

"Yes. I want to decide what to do about the woman. I had intended to go alone, but as you are here you may as well come also."

"I shall be delighted. What do you intend to do?"

"Help her," said Random briefly.

"She doesn't deserve it," replied Hope, lighting a fresh cigarette.

"Does anyone ever deserve anything?" asked Sir Frank cynically. "What does Miss Kendal think of the business? I suppose Braddock told her. He has too long a tongue to keep anything to himself."

"He told her at dinner, when I was present. Lucy is quite on your side. She says that she had known Mrs. Jasher for months and that there is good in her, although I am bound to say that Lucy was a trifle shocked."

"Does she want Mrs. Jasher to marry her father now?"

"Her step-father," corrected Archie immediately. "No, that is out of the question. But she would like Mrs. Jasher to be helped out of her difficulties and have a fair start. It was only by the greatest diplomacy that I prevented Lucy going to see the wretched woman this evening."

"Why did you prevent her?"

Archie colored.

"I daresay I am a trifle prudish," he replied, "but after what has happened I do not wish Lucy to associate with Mrs. Jasher. Do you blame me?"

"No, I don't. All the same, I don't think that Mrs. Jasher is an immoral woman by any means."

"Perhaps not; but we needn't discuss her character, as we know precious little of her past, and she no doubt told you the story that best suited herself. I think it will be best to make her tell all she knows this evening, and then send her away with a sum of money in her pocket to begin a new life."

"I shall help her certainly," said Random, with his eyes on the fire, "but can't say exactly how. It is my opinion that the poor wretch is more sinned against than sinning."

"You are a soldier with a conscience, Random."

The other laughed.

"Why shouldn't a soldier have a conscience? Do you take your idea of officers from the lady novelist, who makes us out to be all idle idiots?"

"Not exactly. All the same, many a man would not take the trouble to behave as you are doing to this unlucky woman."

"Any man, who was a man, whether soldier or civilian, would help such a poor creature. And I believe, Hope, that you will help her also."

The artist leaped to his feet impulsively.

"Of course. I'm with you right along, as Hervey would say. But first, before deciding what we shall do to set Mrs. Jasher on her legs again, let us hear what she has to say."

"She can say nothing more than she has said," remonstrated Random.

"I don't believe that," replied Hope, reaching for his overcoat. "You may choose to believe that the letter was the outcome of bluff. But I really and truly think that Mrs. Jasher is in the know. What is more, I believe that Bolton got her those clothes, and that she was the woman who talked to him—went there to see how the little scheme was progressing."

"If I thought that," said Random coldly, "I would not help Mrs. Jasher."

"Oh, yes, you would. The greater the sinner the more need she or he has of help, you know, my dear fellow. But get your coat on, and let us toddle. I don't suppose we need pistols."

Sir Frank laughed, as, aided by the artist, he struggled into his military greatcoat.

"I don't suppose that Mrs. Jasher will be dangerous," he remarked. "We'll get what we can out of her, and then arrange what is best to be done to recoup her fallen fortunes. Then she can go where she chooses, and we can,—as the French say—return to our muttons."

"I think Donna Inez and Lucy would be annoyed to hear themselves called muttons," laughed Archie, and the two men left the room.

The night was darker than ever, and a fine rain was falling incessantly. When they left the dimly lighted archway of the fort through the smaller, gate set in the larger one they stepped into midnight blackness such as must have been spread over the land of Egypt. In accordance with the primitive customs of Gartley inhabitants, one of them at least should have been furnished with a lantern, as it was no easy task to pick a clean way through the mud.—-However, Archie, knowing the surroundings better even than Random, led the way, and they walked slowly through the iron gate on the hard high road which led to the Fort. Immediately beyond this they turned towards the narrow cinder path which led through the marshes to Mrs. Jasher's cottage, and toiled on cautiously through the misty rain, which fell continuously. The fog was drifting up from the mouth of the river and was growing so thick that they could not see the somewhat feeble lights of the cottage. However, Archie's instincts led him aright, and they blundered finally upon the wooden gate. Here they paused in shocked surprise, for a woman's scream rang out wildly and suddenly.

"What, in heaven's name, is that?" asked Hope, aghast.

"We must find out," breathed Random, and raced through the white cotton-wool of the fog up the path. As he reached the veranda the door opened and a woman came running out screaming. But other screams inside the cottage still continued.

"What is the matter?" cried Random, seizing the woman.

She proved to be Jane.

"Oh, sir, my mistress is being murdered—"

Hope plunged past her into the corridor, not waiting to hear more. The cries had died down to a low moaning, and he dashed into the pink parlor to find it in smoky darkness. Striking a match, he held it above his head. It showed Mrs. Jasher prone on the floor, and a dark figure smashing its way through the flimsy window. There was a snarl and the figure vanished as the match went out.



CHAPTER XXIV. A CONFESSION

Jane was still being held by Sir Frank at the floor, and was still screaming, fully convinced that her captor was a burglar, in spite of having recognized him by his voice. Random was so exasperated by her stupidity that he shook her.

"What is the matter, you fool?" he demanded. "Don't you know that I am a friend?"

"Y-e-s, s-i-r," gasped Jane, fetching her breath again after the shaking; "but go for the police. My mistress is being murdered."

"Mr. Hope is looking after that, and the screams have ceased. Who was with your mistress?"

"I don't know, sir," sobbed the servant. "I didn't know anyone had called, and then I heard the screaming. I looked into the parlor to see what was the matter, but the lamp had been thrown over and had gone out, and there was a dreadful struggle going on in the darkness, so I screamed and ran out and then I—oh—oh" Jane showed symptoms of renewed hysteria, and clutched Random tightly, as a man came cautiously round the corner.

"Are you there, Random?" asked Hope's voice.

"It's so infernally dark and foggy that I have missed him."

"Missed who?"

"The man who was trying to murder Mrs. Jasher, He got her down when I entered and struck a match. Then he dashed through the window before I could catch him or even recognize him. He's vanished in the mist."

"It's no use looking for him anyhow," said Random, peering into the dense blackness, which was thick with damp. "We had better see after Mrs. Jasher."

"Whom have you got there?"

"Jane—who seems to have lost her head."

"It's a mercy I haven't lost my life, sir, with burglars and murderers all about the place," sobbed the girl, dropping on to the veranda.

Random promptly hauled her to her feet.

"Go and get a candle, and keep calm if you can," he said in an abrupt military voice. "This is no time to play the fool."

His sharpness had great effect on the girl, and she became much more her usual self. Hope lighted another match, and the trio proceeded through the passage towards the kitchen, where Jane had left a lamp burning. Seizing this from its bracket, Sir Frank retraced his way along the passage to the pink parlor, followed closely by Hope and timorously by Jane. A dreadful scene presented itself. The dainty little room was literally smashed to pieces, as though a gigantic bull had been wallowing therein. The lamp lay on the floor, surrounded by several extinguished candles. It was a mercy that all the lights had been put out when overturned, else the gim-crack cottage would have been long since in a blaze. Chairs and tables and screens were also overturned, and the one window had its rose-hued curtains torn down and its glass broken, showing only too clearly the way in which the murderer had escaped. And that the man who had attacked Mrs. Jasher was a murderer could be seen from the stream of blood that ran slowly from Mrs. Jasher's breast. Apparently she had been stabbed in the lungs, for the wound was on the right side. There she lay, poor woman, in her tawdry finery, crumpled up, battered and bruised, dead amongst the ruins of her home. Jane immediately began to scream again.

"Stop her, Hope," cried Random, who was kneeling by the body and feeling the heart. "Mrs. Jasher is not dead. Hold your noise, woman, and go for a doctor." This was to Jane, who, prevented from screaming, took to whimpering.

"I had better go," said Hope quickly; "and I'll go to the Fort and alarm the men. Perhaps they may catch the man."

"Can you describe him?"

"Of course not," said Archie indignantly. "I only caught a glimpse of him by the feeble light of a lucifer match. Then he leaped through the window and I after him. I made a grab at him, but lost him in the mist. I don't know in the least what he is like."

"Then how can anyone arrest him?" snapped Random, raising Mrs. Jasher's head. "Give what alarm you like, but race for Robinson up the village. We must save this poor woman's life, if only to learn who killed her."

"But she isn't dead yet—she isn't dead yet," wailed Jane, clapping her hands, while Hope, knowing the value of time, promptly ran out of the house to get further assistance.

"She soon will be," said Sir Frank, whose temper was not of the best at so critical a moment in dealing with a fool. "Go and bring me brandy at once, and afterwards linen and hot water. We must do our best to staunch this wound and revive her."

For the next quarter of an hour the man and the woman labored hard to save Mrs. Jasher's life. Random bound up the wound in a rough and ready fashion, and Jane fed the pale lips of her mistress with sips of brandy. Mrs. Jasher gradually became more alive, and a faint sigh escaped from her lips, as her wounded bosom rose and fell with recovered breath. When Sir Frank was in hopes that she would speak, she suddenly relapsed again into a comatose state. Luckily at that moment Archie returned with young Dr. Robinson at his heels, and also was followed by Painter, the village constable, who had luckily been picked up in the fog.

Robinson whistled as he looked at the insensible woman.

"She's had a narrow squeak," he muttered, lifting the body with the assistance of Random.

"Will she recover?" questioned Hope anxiously.

"I can't tell you yet," answered the doctor; and with Sir Frank he carried the heavy body of the widow into her bedroom. "How did it happen?"

"That is my business," said Painter, who had followed, and who was now filled with importance. "You look after the body, sir, and I'll question these gentlemen and the servant."

"Servant yourself! Such sauce!" muttered Jane, with an angry toss of her cap at the daring young policeman. "I know nothing. I left my mistress in the parlor writing letters, and never heard anyone come in. The bell didn't sound anyhow. The first thing I knew that anything was wrong was on hearing the screams. When I looked into the parlor the candles and the lamp were out, and there was a struggle going on in the dark. Then I cried out, very naturally, I'm sure, and ran straight into the arms of these gentlemen, as soon as I could get the front door open."

After delivering this address, Jane was called away to assist the doctor in the bedroom, and along with Archie and Random the constable repaired to the pink parlor to hear what they had to say. Of course they could tell him even less than Jane had told, and Archie protested that he was quite unable to describe the man who had dashed out of the window.

"Ah," said Painter sapiently, "he got out there; but how did he enter?"

"No doubt by the door," said Random sharply.

"We don't know that, sir. Jane says she did not hear the bell."

"Mrs. Jasher might have let the man in, whomsoever he was, secretly."

"Why should she, sir?"

"Ah! now you are asking more than I can tell you. Only Mrs. Jasher can explain, and it seems to me that she will die."

Meanwhile, in some mysterious way the news of the crime had spread through the village, and although it was growing late—for it was past ten o'clock—a dozen or so of villagers came along. Also there arrived a number of soldiers under a smart sergeant, and to him Sir Frank explained what had happened. In the fainthearted way—for the mist was now like cotton-wool—the military and the civilians hunted through the marshes round the cottage, hoping to come across the assassin hiding in a ditch. Needless to say, they found no one and nothing, for it was worse than looking for a needle in a bundle of hay. The man had come out of the mist, and, after executing the deed, had vanished into the mist, and there was not the very slightest chance of finding him. Gradually, as it drew towards midnight, the soldiers went back to the Fort, and the villagers to their homes. But, along with the doctor and the constable, Hope and his military friend stopped on. They were determined to get at the root of the mystery, and when Mrs. Jasher became sensible she would be able to reveal the truth.

"It's all of a piece with the sending of the emerald," said Random to the artist, "and that is connected, as we know, with the death of Bolton."

"Do you think that this man who has struck down Mrs. Jasher is the same one who strangled Sidney Bolton?"

"I should think so. Perhaps Mrs. Jasher sent the emerald after all, and this man killed her out of revenge."

"But how would he know that she had the emerald?"

"God knows! She may have been his accomplice."

Archie knit his brows.

"Who the devil can this mysterious person be?"

"I can only reply as you have done, my friend. God knows."

"Well, I am certain that God will not let him escape this time. This will bring Gartley once more into notoriety," went on Hope. "By the way, I saw one of the servants from the Pyramids here. I hope the fool won't go home and frighten Lucy's life out of her."

"Go to the Pyramids and see her," suggested Sir Frank. "Mrs. Jasher is still unconscious, and will be for hours, the doctor tells me."

"It is too late to go to the Pyramids, Random."

"If they know of this new tragedy there, I'll bet they are not in bed."

Hope nodded.

"All the same, I'll remain here until Mrs. Jasher can speak," he said, and sat smoking with Random in the dining-room, as the most comfortable room in the house.

Constable Painter camped, so to speak, in the drawing-room, keeping guard over the scene of the crime, and had placed the Chinese screen against the broken window to keep out the cold. In the bedroom Jane and Dr. Robinson looked after the dying woman. And dying she was, according to the young physician, for he did not think she would live much longer. Round the lonely cottage the sea-mist drifted white and thick, and the darkness deepened, until—as the saying goes—it could have been cut with a knife. Never was there so eerie and weary and sinister a vigil.

Towards four o'clock Hope fell into a doze, while resting in an arm-chair; but he was suddenly aroused from this by an exclamation from Sir Frank, who had remained wide awake, smoking cigar after cigar. In a moment the artist was on his feet, alert and quick-brained.

"What is it?"

Random made for the dining-room door rapidly.

"I thought I heard Painter call out," he declared, and hastily sought the parlor, followed by Hope.

The room was empty, but the screen before the broken window had been thrown down, and they could see Painter's bulky form immediately outside.

"What the deuce is the matter?" demanded Random, entering. "Did you call out, Painter. I fancied I heard something."

The constable came in again.

"I did call out, sir," he confessed. "I was half asleep in that chair, when I suddenly became wide awake, and believed I saw a face looking at me round the corner of the screen. I jumped up, calling for you, sir, and upset the screen."

"Well? well?" demanded Sir Frank impatiently, and seeing that the man hesitated.

"I saw no one, sir. All the same, I had an idea, and I have still, that a man came through the window and peered at me from behind the screen."

"The man who attacked Mrs. Jasher?"

"I can't say, sir. But there was someone. At any rate he's gone again, if he really did come, and there is no chance of finding him. It's like pea-soup outside."

Hope and Random simultaneously stepped through the window, but could not see an inch before them, so thick was the sea-fog and so dense was the darkness. Returning, they replaced the screen, and, telling Painter to be more on the alert, went back shivering to the fire in the dining-room. When they were seated again, Archie put a question.

"Do you think that policeman was dreaming?" he asked meditatively.

"No," replied Random sharply. "I believe that the man who assaulted Mrs. Jasher is hanging about, and ventured back into the room, relying on the fog as a means of escape, should he be spotted."

"But the man wouldn't be such a fool as to return into danger."

"Not unless he wanted something very badly," said Random significantly.

Hope let the cigarette he was lighting fall.

"What do you mean?"

"I may be wrong, of course. But it is my impression that there is something in the parlor which this man wants, and for which he tried to murder Mrs. Jasher. We interrupted him, and he was forced to flee. Hidden in the fog, he is lurking about to see if he can't obtain what he has risked his neck to secure."

"What can it be?" murmured Archie, struck by the feasibility of this theory.

"Perhaps the second emerald," remarked Sir Frank grimly.

"What! You don't think that—"

"I don't think anything. I am too tired to think at all. However, Painter will keep his eyes open, and in the morning we can search the room. The man has been in the house twice to get what he wanted. He won't risk another attempt, now that he is aware we are on the alert. I'm going to try and get forty winks. You keep watch, as you have had your sleep."

Hope was quite agreeable, but just as Random composed himself to uneasy slumber, Jane, haggard and red-eyed, came hastily into the dining-room.

"If you please, gentlemen, the doctor wants you to come and see mistress. She is sensible, and—"

The two waited to hear no more, but went hastily but softly into the room wherein lay the dying woman. Robinson sat by the bedside, holding his patient's hand and feeling her pulse. He placed his finger on his lips as the men entered gently, and at the same moment Mrs. Jasher's voice, weak from exhaustion, sounded through the room, which was dimly illuminated by one candle. The newcomers halted in obedience to Robinson's signal.

"Who is there?" asked Mrs. Jasher weakly, for, in spite of the care exercised, she had evidently heard the footsteps.

"Mr. Hope and Sir Frank Random," whispered the doctor, speaking into the dying woman's ear. "They came in time to save you."

"In time to see me die," she murmured; "and I can't die, unless I tell the truth. I am glad Random is there; he is a kind-hearted boy, and treated me better than he need have done. I—oh—some brandy—brandy."

Robinson gave her some in a spoon.

"Now lie quietly and do not attempt to speak," he commanded. "You need all your strength."

"I do—to tell that which I wish to tell," gasped Mrs. Jasher, trying to raise herself. "Sir Frank! Sir Frank!" Her voice sounded hoarse and weak.

"Yes, Mrs. Jasher," said the young man, coming softly to the bedside.

She thrust out a weak hand and clutched him.

"You must be my father-confessor, and hear all. You got the emerald?"

"What!" Random recoiled in astonishment, "Did you—"

"Yes, I sent it to you as a wedding present. I was sorry and I was afraid; and I—I—" She paused again, gasping.

The doctor intervened and gave her more brandy.

"You must not talk," he insisted severely, "or I shall turn Sir Frank and Mr. Hope out of the room."

"No! no! Give me more brandy—more—more." and when the doctor placed a tumbler to her lips, she drank so greedily that he had to take the glass away lest she should do herself harm. But the ardent spirit put new life into her, and with a superhuman effort she suddenly reared herself in the bed.

"Come here, Hope—come here, Random," she said in a much stronger voice. "I have much to tell you. Yes, I took the emerald after dark and threw it into the sentry box when the man wasn't looking. I escaped your spy, Random, and I escaped the notice of the sentry. I walked like a cat, and like a cat I can see in the dark. I am glad you have got the emerald."

"Where did you get it?" asked Random quietly.

"That's a long story. I don't know that I have the strength to tell it. I have written it out."

"You have written it out?" said Hope quickly, and drawing near.

"Yes. Jane thought that I was writing letters, but I was writing out the whole story of the murder. You were good to me, Random, you dear boy, and on the impulse of the moment I took the emerald to you. I was sorry when I got back, but it was too late then to repent, as I did not dare to go near the Fort again. Your spy who watched might have discovered me the second time. I then thought that I would write out the story of the murder, so as to exonerate myself."

"Then you are not guilty of Bolton's death?" asked Sir Frank, puzzled, for her confession was somewhat incoherent.

"No. I did not strangle him. But I know who did. I have written it all down. I was just finishing when I heard the tapping at the window. I let him in and he tried to get the confession, for I told him what I had done."

"Who did you tell?" asked Hope, much excited.

Mrs. Jasher took no notice.

"The confession is lying on my desk—all the sheets of paper are loose. I had no time to bind them together, for he came in. He wanted the emerald, and the confession. I told him that I had given the emerald to you, Random, and that I had confessed all in writing. Then he went mad and flew at me with a dreadful knife. He knocked over the candles and the lamp. Everything went out and all was darkness, and I lay crying for help, with that devil stabbing—stabbing—ah—"

"Who, in heaven's name, is the man?" demanded Random, standing up in his eagerness. But Mrs. Jasher had fallen back in a faint, and Robinson was again supplying her with brandy.

"You had better leave the room, you two," he said, "or I can't be answerable for her life."

"I must stay and learn the truth," said Random determinedly, "and you, Hope, go into the parlor and find that confession. It is on the desk, as she said, all loose sheets. No doubt it was the confession which the man she refers to tried to secure when he came back the second time. He may make another attempt, or Painter may go to sleep. Hurry! hurry!"

Archie needed no second telling, as he realized what hung on the securing of the confession. He stole swiftly out of the room, closing the door after him. Faint as was the sound, Mrs. Jasher heard it and opened her eyes.

"Do not go, Random," she said faintly. "I have yet much to say, although the confession will tell you all. I am half sorry I wrote it out—at least I was—and perhaps should have burnt it had I not met with this accident."

"Accident!" echoed Sir Frank scornfully. "Murder you mean."

The sinister word galvanized the dying woman in sudden strong life, and she reared herself again on the bed.

"Murder! Yes, it is murder," she cried loudly. "He killed Sidney Bolton to get the emeralds, and he killed me to make me close my mouth."

"Who stabbed you? Speak! speak!" cried Random anxiously.

"Cockatoo. He is guilty of my death and Bolton's," and she fell back, dead.



CHAPTER XXV. THE MILLS OF GOD

In the cold gray hours of the morning, Hope and his friend left the cottage wherein such a tragedy had taken place. The dead woman was lying stiff and white on her bed under a winding sheet, which had already been strewn with many-hued chrysanthemums taken from the pink parlor by the weeping Jane. The wretched woman who had led so stormy and unhappy a life had at least one sincere mourner, for she had always been kind to the servant, who formed her entire domestic staff, and Jane would not hear a word said against the dead. Not that anyone did say anything; for Random and Hope kept the contents of the confession to themselves. There would be time enough for Mrs. Jasher's reputation to be smirched when those same contents were made public.

When the poor woman died, Random left the doctor and the servant to look after the corpse, and went into the parlor. Here he met Hope with the confession in his hand. Luckily, Painter was not in the room at the moment, else he would have prevented the artist from taking away the same. Hope—as directed by Mrs. Jasher—had found the confession, written on many sheets, lying on the desk. It broke off abruptly towards the end, and was not signed. Apparently at this point Mrs. Jasher had been interrupted—as she had said—by the tapping of Cockatoo at the window. Probably she had admitted him at once, and on her refusal to give him the emerald, and on her confessing what she had written, he had overturned the lights for the purpose of murdering her. Only too well had the Kanaka succeeded in his wickedness.

Archie slipped the confession into his pocket before the policeman returned, and then left the cottage with Random and the doctor, since nothing else could now be done. It was between seven and eight, and the chilly dawn was breaking, but the sea-mist still lay heavily over the marshes, as though it were the winding sheet of the dead. Robinson went to his own house to get his trap and drive into Jessum, there to catch the train and ferry to Pierside. It was necessary that Inspector Date should be informed of this new tragedy without delay, and as Constable Painter was engaged in watching the cottage, there was no messenger available but Dr. Robinson. Random indeed offered to send a soldier, or to afford Robinson the use of the Fort telephone, but the doctor preferred to see Date personally, so as to detail exactly what had happened. Perhaps the young medical man had an eye to becoming better known, for the improvement of his practice; but he certainly seemed anxious to take a prominent part in the proceedings connected with the murder of Mrs. Jasher.

When Robinson parted from them, Random and Hope went to the lodgings of the latter, so as to read over the confession and learn exactly to what extent Mrs. Jasher had been mixed up in the tragedy of the green mummy. She had declared herself innocent even on her death-bed, and so far as the two could judge at this point, she certainly had not actually strangled Sidney Bolton. But it might be—and it appeared to be more than probable—that she was an accessory after the fact. But this they could learn from the confession, and they sat in Hope's quiet little sitting-room, in which the fire had been just lighted by the artist's landlady, with the scattered sheets neatly ranged before them.

"Perhaps you would like a cup of coffee, or a whisky and soda," suggested Archie, "before starting to read?"

"I should," assented Random, who looked weary and pale. "The events of the night have somewhat knocked me up. Coffee for choice—nice, black, strong, hot coffee."

Hope nodded and went to order the same. When he returned he sat down, after closing the door carefully, and proceeded to read. But before he could speak Random raised his hand.

"Let us chat until the coffee comes in," he said; "then we shall not be interrupted when reading."

"All right," said Hope. "Have a cigar!"

"No, thanks. I have been smoking all the night. I shall sit here by the fire and wait for the coffee. You look chippy yourself."

"And small wonder," said Archie wearily. "We little thought when we left the Fort last night what a time we were going to have. Fancy Mrs. Jasher having sent you the emerald after all!"

"Yes. She repented, as she said, and yet I dare say—as she also said—she was sorry that she acted on her impulse. If she had not been stabbed by that damned Cockatoo, she would no doubt have destroyed that confession. I expect she wrote that also on the impulse of the moment."

"She confessed as much," said Hope, leaning his head on his hand and staring into the fire. "She must have been cognizant of the truth all along. I wonder if she was an accessory before or after the fact?"

"What I wonder," said Random, after a moment's thought, "is, what Braddock has to do with the matter?"

Hope raised his head in surprise.

"Why, nothing. Mrs. Jasher did not say a word against Braddock."

"I know that. All the same, Cockatoo was completely under the thumb of the Professor, and probably was instructed by him to strangle Bolton."

"That is impossible," cried the artist, much agitated. "Think of what you are saying, Random. What a terrible thing it would be for Lucy if the Professor were guilty in such a way as you suggest!"

"Really, I fail to see that. Miss Kendal is no relation to Braddock save by marriage. His iniquities have nothing to do with her, or with you."

"But it's impossible, I tell you, Random. Throughout the whole of this case Braddock has acted in a perfectly innocent way."

"That's just it," said Sir Frank caustically; "he has acted. In spite of his pretended grief for the loss of the emeralds, I should not be surprised to learn from that," he nodded towards the confession on the table, "that he was in possession of the missing gem. Cockatoo had no reason to steal the emeralds himself, setting aside the fact that he probably would not know their value, being but a semi-civilized savage. He acted under orders from his master, and although Cockatoo strangled Bolton, the Professor is really the author and the gainer and the moving spirit."

"You would make Braddock an accessory before the fact."

"Yes, and Mrs. Jasher an accessory after the fact. Cockatoo is the link, as the actual criminal, who joins the two in a guilty partnership. No wonder Braddock intended to make that woman his wife even though he did not love her, for she knew a jolly sight too much for his peace of mind."

"This is horrible," murmured Hope desperately; "but it is mere theory. We cannot be sure until we read the confession."

"We'll be sure soon, then, for here comes the coffee."

This last remark Random made when a timid knock came to the door, and a moment later the landlady entered with a tray bearing cups, saucers, and a jug of steaming coffee. She was a meek, reticent woman who entered and departed in dismal silence, and in a few moments the two young men were quite alone with the door closed. They drank a cup of coffee each, and then Hope proceeded to read the confession.

The story told by Mrs. Jasher commenced with a short account of her early life. It appeared that her father was a ruined gentleman and a gambler, and that her mother had been an actress. She was dragged up in a Bohemian sort of way until she attained a marriageable age, when her mother, who seemed to have been both wicked and hard-hearted, forced her to marry a comparatively wealthy man called Jasher. The elderly husband—for Jasher was not young—treated his wife very badly, and, infected with the spirit of gambling by her father, lost all his money. Mrs. Jasher then went with him to America and performed on the stage in order to keep the home together. She had one child, but it died, much to her grief, yet also much to her relief, as she was so miserable and poor. Mrs. Jasher gave a scanty account of sordid years of trouble and trial, of failure and sorrow. She and her husband roamed all over America, and then went to Australia and New Zealand, where they lived a wretched existence for many years. Finally the husband died of strong drink at an advanced age, leaving Mrs. Jasher a somewhat elderly widow.

The poor woman again took to the stage and tried to earn her bread, but was unsuccessful. Afterwards she lectured. Then she kept a boarding establishment, and finally went out as a nurse. In every way, it would seem, she tried to keep her head above water, and roamed the world like a bird of passage, finding rest nowhere for the sole of her foot. Yet throughout her story both the young men could see that she had always aspired to a quiet and decent, respectable existence, and that only force of circumstances had flung her into the whirlpool of life.

"As I said," remarked Random at this stage, "the miserable creature was more sinned against than sinning."

"Her moral sense seemed to have become blunted, however," said Archie doubtfully.

"And small wonder, amidst such surroundings; but it seems to me that she was much better under the circumstances than many another woman would have been. Go on."

In Melbourne Mrs. Jasher made a lucky speculation in mines, which brought her one thousand pounds. With this she came to England, and resolved to make a bid for respectability. Chance led her into the neighborhood of Gartley, and thinking that if she set up her tent in this locality she might manage to marry an officer from the Fort—since amidst such dismal surroundings a young man might be the more easily fascinated by a woman of the world—she took the cottage amidst the marshes at a small rent. Here she hoped to eke out what money she had left—a few hundreds—until the coveted marriage should take place. Afterwards she met Professor Braddock and determined to marry him, as a man more easy to manage. She was successful in enlisting Lucy on her side, and until the green mummy brought its bad luck to the Pyramids everything went capitally.