But,” added the widow, meditatively and glancing again at the Professor, “I shall be sorry to leave dear Gartley.
Still, the memory of happy hours spent in this house will always remain with me.
Ah me! ah me!” and she put her handkerchief to her eyes.
Lucy telegraphed to Archie that the widow was a humbug, and Archie telegraphed back that he quite agreed with her.
But the Professor, whom the momentary silence had brought back to the present century, looked up and asked Lucy if the dinner was finished.
“I have to do some work this evening,” said the Professor.
“Oh, father, when you said that you would take a holiday,” said Lucy reproachfully.
“I am doing so now. Look at the precious minutes I am wasting in eating, my dear.
Life is short and much remains to be done in the way of Egyptian exploration. There is the sepulchre of Queen Tahoser.
If I could only enter that,” and he sighed, while helping himself to cream.
“Why don’t you?” asked Mrs. Jasher, who was beginning to give up her pursuit of Braddock, for it was no use wooing a man whose interests centered entirely in Egyptian tombs.
“I have yet to discover it,” said the Professor simply; then, warming to the congenial theme, he glanced around and delivered a short historical lecture. “Tahoser was the chief wife and queen of a famous Pharaoh—the Pharaoh of the Exodus, in fact.”
“The one who was drowned in the Red Sea?” asked Archie idly.
“Why, yes—but that happened later.
Before pursuing the Hebrews,—if the Mosaic account is to be believed,—this Pharaoh marched far into the interior of Africa,—the Libya of the ancients,—and conquered the natives of Upper Ethiopia.
Being deeply in love with his queen, he took her with him on this expedition, and she died before the Pharaoh returned to Memphis.
From records which I discovered in the museum of Cairo, I have reason to believe that the Pharaoh buried her with much pomp in Ethiopia, sacrificing, I believe, many prisoners at her gorgeous funeral rites.
From the wealth of that Pharaoh—for wealthy he must have been on account of his numerous victories—and from the love he bore this princess, I am confident—confident,” added Braddock, striking the table vehemently, “that when discovered, her tomb will be filled with riches, and may also contain documents of incalculable value.”
“And you wish to get the money?” asked Mrs. Jasher, who was rather bored.
The Professor rose fiercely.
“Money!
I care nothing for money.
I desire to obtain the funeral jewelry and golden masks, the precious images of the gods, so as to place them in the British Museum.
And the scrolls of papyrus buried with the mummy of Tahoser may contain an account of Ethiopian civilization, about which we know nothing.
Oh, that tomb,—that tomb!” Braddock began to walk the room, quite forgetting that he had not finished his dinner. “I know the mountains whose entrails were pierced to form the sepulchre.
Were I able to go to Africa, I am certain that I should discover the tomb.
Ah, with what glory would my name be covered, were I so fortunate!”
“Why don’t you go to Africa, sir, and try?” asked Hope.
“Fool!” cried the Professor politely. “To fit out an expedition would take some five thousand pounds, if not more.
I would have to penetrate through a hostile country to reach the chain of mountains I speak of, where I know this precious tomb is to be found.
I need supplies, an escort, guns, camels, and all the rest of it.
A leader must be obtained to manage the fighting men necessary to pass through this dangerous zone.
It is no easy task to find the tomb of Tahoser.
And yet if I could—if I could only get the money,” and he walked up and down with his head bent on his breast.
Mrs. Jasher was used to Braddock’s vagaries by this time, and merely continued to fan herself placidly.
“I wish I could help you with the expedition,” she said quietly. “I should like to have some of that lovely Egyptian jewelry myself.
But I am quite a pauper, until my brother dies, poor man.
Then—” She hesitated.
“What then?” asked Braddock, wheeling.
“I shall aid you with pleasure.”
“It’s a bargain!” Braddock stretched out his hand.
“A bargain,” said Mrs. Jasher, accepting the grasp somewhat nervously, for she had not expected to be taken so readily at her word.
A glance at Lucy revealed her nervousness.
“Do sit down, father, and finish your dinner,” said that young lady. “I am sure you will have more than enough to do when the mummy arrives.”
“Mummy—what mummy?” murmured Braddock, again beginning to eat.
“The Inca mummy.”
“Of course.
The mummy of Inca Caxas, which Sidney is bringing from Malta.
When I strip that corpse of its green bandages I shall find—”
“Find what?” asked Archie, seeing that the Professor hesitated.