Braddock lost his patience under this torrent of unjust accusations and

rushed towards Mrs. Bolton, dragging Cockatoo by the arm. In less time

than it takes to tell, he had swept both Archie and the widow out into

the hall, where Lucy was trembling, and Cockatoo, by his master's order,

was locking the door.

"Not a thing shall be touched until the police come. Hope, you are, a

witness that I have not meddled with the dead: you were present when

I opened the packing case: you have seen that a useless body has been

substituted for a valuable mummy. And yet this old witch dares--dares--"

Braddock stamped and grew incoherent from sheer rage.

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Archie soothed him, leaving go of Widow Anne's arm to do so. "Hush!

hush!" said the young man quietly, "the poor woman does not know what

she is saying. I'll go for the police and--"

"No," interrupted the Professor sharply; "Cockatoo can go for the

inspector of Pierside. I shall call in the village constable.

Meanwhile you keep the key of the museum," he dropped it into Hope's

breast-pocket, "so that you and the police may be sure the body has

not been touched. Widow Anne, go home," he turned angrily on the old

creature, who was now trembling after her burst of rage, "and don't dare

to come here again until you ask pardon for what you have said."

"I want to be near my poor boy's corp," wailed Widow Anne, "and I'm very

sorry, Perfesser. I didn't mean to--"

"But you have, you witch. Go away!" and he stamped.

But by this time Lucy had recovered her self-possession, which had been

sorely shaken by the sight of the dead. "Leave her to me," she observed,

taking Mrs. Bolton's arm, and leading her towards the stairs. "I shall

take her to my room and give her some brandy. Father, you must make some

allowance for her natural grief, and--"

Braddock stamped again. "Take her away! take her away!" he cried

testily, "and keep her out of my sight. Is it not enough to have lost

an invaluable assistant, and a costly mummy of infinite historical

and archaeological value, without my being accused of--of--oh!" The

Professor choked with rage and shook his hand in the air.

Seeing that he was unable to speak, Lucy seized the opportunity of the

lull in the storm, and hurried the old woman, sobbing and moaning, up

the stairs. By this time the shrieks of Mrs. Bolton, and the wordy

wrath of Braddock, had drawn the cook and her husband, along with the

housemaid, from the basement to the ground floor. The sight of their

surprised faces only added to their master's anger, and he advanced

furiously.

"Go downstairs again: go down, I tell you!"

"But if there's anything wrong, sir," ventured the gardener timidly.




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