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.”
“I don’t see why you should,” said Lucy, wondering why Mrs. Jasher did not wear mourning for the dead.
“Oh yes, you do see,” remarked the widow, raising her eyes and rubbing her plump hands together. “I want to marry your father.”
Lucy did not express astonishment, as she had understood this for a long time.
“I guessed as much.”
“And what do you say?”
Miss Kendal shrugged her shoulders.
“If my step-father,” she emphasized the word—“if my step-father consents, why should I mind?
I am going to marry Archie, and no doubt the Professor will be lonely.”
“Then you do not disapprove of me as a mother.”
“My dear Mrs. Jasher,” said Lucy, coldly, “there is no relationship between me and my step-father beyond the fact that he married my mother.
Therefore you can never be my mother.
Were I stopping on at the Pyramids, that question might arise, but as I become Mrs. Hope in six months, we can be friends—nothing more.”
“I am quite content with that,” said Mrs. Jasher in a businesslike way. “After all, I am no sentimentalist.
But I am glad that you do not mind my marrying the Professor, as I don’t want you to prevent the match, my dear.”
Lucy laughed.
“I assure you that I have no influence with my father, Mrs. Jasher.
He will marry you if he thinks fit and without consulting me.
But,” added the girl with emphasis, “I do not see what you gain in becoming Mrs. Braddock.”
“I may become Lady Braddock,” said the widow, dryly. Then, in answer to the open astonishment on Lucy’s face, she hastened to remark: “Do you mean to say that you don’t know your father is heir to a baronetcy?”
“Oh, I know that,” rejoined Miss Kendal. “The Professor’s brother, Sir Donald Braddock, is an old man and unmarried.
If he dies without heirs, as it seems likely, the Professor will certainly take the title.”
“Well, then, there you are!” cried Mrs. Jasher, in her liveliest tone. “I want to give my legacy for the title and preside over a scientific salon in London.”
“I understand.
But you will never get my father to live in London.”
“Wait until I marry him,” said the little woman shrewdly. “I’ll make a man of him.
I know, of course, that mummies and sepulchral ornaments and those sort of horrid things are dull, but the Professor will become Sir Julian Braddock, and that is enough for me.
I don’t love him, of course, as love between two elderly people is absurd, but I shall make him a good wife, and with my money he can take his proper position in the scientific world, which he doesn’t occupy at present.
I would rather he had been artistic, as science is so dull.
However, I am getting on in years and wish to have some amusement before I die, so I must take what I can get.
What do you say?”
“I am quite agreeable, as, when I leave, someone must look after my father, else he will be shamefully robbed by everyone in household matters.
We are good friends, so why not you as well as another.”
“You are a dear girl,” said Mrs. Jasher with a sigh of relief, and kissed Lucy fondly. “I am sure we shall get on excellently.”
“At a distance.
The artistic world doesn’t touch on the scientific, you know.
And you forget, Mrs. Jasher, that my father wishes to go to Egypt to explore this mysterious tomb.”
Mrs. Jasher nodded.
“Yes, I promised, when I came in for my brother’s money, to help the Professor to fit out his expedition.
But it seems to me that the money will be better spent in offering a reward so that the mummy can be found.”
“Well,” said Lucy, laughing, “you can give the Professor his choice.”
“Before marriage, not after.