"My owners were paid fur that racket: not me. No, sir. So I've
paddled into this port to see if I can rake in a few dollars on
my own."
"I've no dollars to give you--in charity, that is."
"Huh! An' who asked charity, you bald-headed jelly-bag?"
Braddock grew scarlet with fury. "If you speak to me like that,
you ruffian, I'll throw you out."
"What?--you?"
"Yes, me," and the Professor stood on tip-toe, like the bantam he
was.
"You make me smile, and likewise tired," murmured Hervey,
admiring the little man's pluck. "See here, Professor, touching
that mummy?"
"My mummy: my green mummy. What about it?" Braddock rose to the
fly thrown by this skilful angler.
"That's so. What will you shell out if I pass along that
corpse?"
"Ah!" The Professor again stood on tip-toe, gasping and purple
in the face. He almost squeaked in the extremity of his anger.
"I knew it."
"Knew what?" demanded the skipper, genuinely surprised.
"I knew that you had stolen my mummy. Yes, you needn't deny it.
Bolton, like the silly fool he was, told you how valuable the
mummy was, and you strangled the poor devil to get my property."
"Go slow," said the captain, in no wise perturbed by this
accusation.
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