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.




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