Like a geographical Lord Byron, the isolated village of Gartley awoke
one morning to find itself famous. Previously unknown, save to the
inhabitants of Brefort, Jessum, and the surrounding country, and to
the soldiers stationed in the Fort, it became a nine days' centre of
interest. Inspector Date of Pierside arrived with his constables to
inquire into the reported crime, and the local journalists, scenting
sensation, came flying to Gartley on bicycles and in traps. Next morning
London was duly advised that a valuable mummy was missing, and that
the assistant of Professor Braddock, who had been sent to fetch it from
Malta, was murdered by strangulation. In a couple of days the three
kingdoms were ringing with the news of the mystery.
And a mystery it proved, to be, for, in spite of Inspector Date's
efforts and the enterprise of Scotland Yard detectives summoned by
the Professor, no clue could be found to the identity of the assassin.
Briefly, the story told by the newspapers ran as follows: The tramp steamer Diver--Captain George Hervey in command--had berthed
alongside the Pierside jetty at four o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon in
mid-September, and some two hours later Sidney Bolton removed the case,
containing the green mummy, ashore.
As it was impossible to carry the case to the Pyramids on that night,
Bolton had placed it in his bedroom at the Sailor's Rest, a mean little
public-house of no very savory reputation near the water's edge. He was
last seen alive by the landlord and the barmaid, when, after a drink of
harmless ginger-beer, he retired to bed at eight, leaving instructions
to the landlord--overheard by the barmaid--that the case was to be sent
on next day to Professor Braddock of Gartley. Bolton hinted that he
might leave the hotel early and would probably precede the case to its
destination, so as to advise Professor Braddock--necessarily anxious--of
its safe arrival. Before retiring he paid his bill, and deposited in
the landlord's hand a small sum of money, so that the case might be sent
across stream to Brefort, thence to be taken in a lorry to the Pyramids.
There was no sign, said the barmaid and the landlord, that Bolton
contemplated suicide, or that he feared sudden death. His whole demeanor
was cheerful, and he expressed himself exceedingly glad to be in England
once more.
At eleven on the ensuing morning, a persistent knocking and a subsequent
opening of the door of Bolton's bedroom proved that he was not in the
room, although the tumbled condition of the bed-clothes proved that he
had taken some rest. No one in the hotel thought anything of Bolton's
absence, since he had hinted at an early departure, although the
chamber-maid considered it strange that no one had seen him leave the
hotel. The landlord obeyed Bolton's instructions and sent the case, in
charge of a trustworthy man, to Brefort across the river. There a lorry
was procured, and the case was taken to Gartley, where it arrived at
three in the afternoon. It was then that Professor Braddock, in opening
the case, discovered the body of his ill-fated assistant, rigid in
death, and with a red window cord tightly bound round the throat of the
corpse. At once, said the newspapers, the Professor sent for the police,
and later insisted that the smartest Scotland Yard detectives should
come down to elucidate the mystery. At present both police and
detectives were engaged in searching for a needle in a haystack, and so
far had met with no success.