"
"But I thought, sir, that a murder--"
"Oh, of course--of course," gabbled the Professor, as if the
death was quite a minor consideration. "Bolton's dead--
murdered, I suppose, as he could scarcely have nailed himself
down in a packing case. But it's my precious mummy I am thinking
of, Painter. A mummy--if you know what a mummy is--that cost
me nine hundred pounds. Go in, man. Go in and don't stand there
gaping. Don't you see that Mr. Hope has opened the door. I have
sent Cockatoo to Pierside to notify the police. They will soon
be here. Meanwhile, doctor, you can examine the body, and
Painter here can give his opinion as to who stole my mummy."
"The assassin stole the mummy," said Archie, as the four men
entered the museum, "and substituted the body of the murdered
man."
"That is all A B C," snapped Braddock, issuing into the vast
room, "but we want to know the name of the assassin, if we are to
revenge Bolton and get back my mummy. Oh, what a loss!--what a
loss! I have lost nine hundred pounds, or say one thousand,
considering the cost of bringing Inca Caxas to England."
Archie forebore to remind the Professor as to who had really lost
the money, as the scientist was not in a fit state to be talked
to reasonably, and seemed much more concerned because his
Peruvian relic of humanity had been lost than for the terrible
death of Sidney Bolton.
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