Coroner: "You are out of order, sir. And I would point out that, as yet,

Inspector Date has produced no witnesses."

Date glared. He and the Coroner were old enemies, and always sparred

when they met. It seemed likely, that the peppery little Professor would

join in the quarrel and that there would be a duel of three; but Date,

not wishing for an adverse report in the newspapers as to his conduct of

the case, contented himself with the glare aforesaid, and, after a short

speech, called Braddock. The Professor, looking more like a cross

cherub than ever, gave his evidence tartly. It seemed ridiculous to his

prejudiced mind that all this fuss should be made over Bolton's body,

when the mummy; was still missing. However, as the discovery of the

criminal would assuredly lead to the regaining of that precious Peruvian

relic, he curbed his wrath and answered the Coroner's questions in a

fairly amiable fashion.

And, after all, Braddock had very little to tell. He had, so he stated,

seen an advertisement in a newspaper that a mummy, swathed in green

bandages, was to be sold in Malta; and had sent his assistant to buy it

and bring it home. This was done, and what happened after the mummy

left the tramp steamer was known to everyone, through the medium of the

press.

"With which," grumbled the Professor, "I do not agree."

"What do you mean by that?" asked the Coroner sharply.

"I mean, sir," snapped Braddock, equally sharply, "that the publicity

given by the newspapers to these details will probably place the

assassin on his guard."

"Why not on her guard?" persisted the Coroner wilfully.

"Rubbish! rubbish! rubbish! My mummy wasn't stolen by a woman. What the

devil would a woman want with my mummy?"

"Be more respectful, Professor."

"Then talk sense, doctor," and the two glared at one another.

After a moment or two the situation was adjusted in silence, and the

Coroner asked a few questions, pertinent to the matter in hand.

"Had the deceased any enemies?"

"No, sir, he hadn't, not being famous enough, or rich enough, or clever

enough to excite the hatred of mankind. He was simply an intelligent

young man, who worked excellently when supervised by me. His mother is

a washerwoman in this village, and the lad brought washing to my

house. Noting that he was intelligent and was anxious to rise above his

station, I engaged him as my assistant and trained him to do my work."

"Archaeological work?"

"Yes. I don't wash, whatever Bolton's mother may, do. Don't ask silly

questions."

"Be more respectful," said the Coroner again, and grew red. "Have you

any idea as to the name of anyone who desired to obtain possession of

this mummy?"

"I daresay dozens of scientists in my line of business would have liked

to get the corpse of Inca Caxas. Such as--" and he reeled out a list of

celebrated men.




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