"Well, my dear girl," said Mrs. Jasher, shading her face from the fire
with a large fan, "and how is your dear father after his late terrible
experiences?"
"He is perfectly well, and rather cross," replied Lucy, smiling.
"Cross?"
"Of course. He has lost that wretched mummy."
"And poor Sidney Bolton."
"Oh, I don't think he cares for poor Sidney's death beyond the fact
that he misses his services. But the mummy cost nine hundred pounds, and
father is much annoyed, especially as Peruvian mummies are somewhat hard
to obtain. You see, Mrs. Jasher, father wishes to see the difference
between the Peruvian and Egyptian modes of embalming."
"Ugh! How gruesome!" Mrs. Jasher shuddered. "But has anything been
discovered likely to show who killed this poor lad?"
"No, the whole thing is a mystery."
Mrs. Jasher looked into the fire over the top of the fan.
"I have read the papers," she said slowly, "and have gathered what I
could from what the reporters explained. But I intend to call on the
Professor and hear all that evidence which did not get into the papers."
"I think that everything has been made public. The police have no clue
to the murderer. Why do you want to know?"
Mrs. Jasher made a movement of surprise.
"Why, I am the Professor's friend, of course, my dear, and naturally I
want to help him to solve this mystery."
"There is no chance, so far as I can see, of it ever being solved," said
Lucy. "It's very sweet of you, of course, but were I you I should not
talk about it to my father."
"Why?" asked Mrs. Jasher quickly.
"Because he thinks of nothing else, and both Archie and I are trying to
get him off the subject. The mummy is lost and poor Sidney is buried.
There is no more to be said."
"Still, if a reward was offered--"
"My father is too poor to offer a reward, and the Government will not do
so. And as people will not work without money, why--" Lucy completed her
sentence with a shrug.
"I might offer a reward if the dear Professor will let me," said the
widow unexpectedly.
"You! But I thought that you were poor, as we are."
"I was, and I am not very rich now. All the same, I have come in for
some thousands of pounds."
"I congratulate you. A legacy?"
"Yes. You remember how I told you about my brother who was a Pekin
merchant. He is dead."
"Oh, I am so sorry."
"My dear, what is the use of being sorry. I never cry over spilt milk,
or assume a virtue which I have not. My brother and I were almost
strangers, as we lived apart for so many years. However, he came home to
die at Brighton, and a few weeks ago--just after this murder took place,
in fact--I was summoned to his death-bed. He lingered on until last week
and died in my arms. He left me nearly all his money, so I will be able
to help the Professor."