Lucy for the moment thought little of this interview; but on reflection she thought it strange that Archie should borrow clothes from Mrs. Bolton through Sidney.
Not that there was anything strange in Archie’s procuring such garments, since he may have wanted them to clothe a model with.
But he could easily have got such things from his landlady, or, if from Widow Anne, could have borrowed them direct without appealing to Sidney.
Why, then, had the dead man acted as an intermediate party?
This question was hard to answer, yet Lucy greatly wished for a reply, since she suddenly remembered how a woman in a dark dress and with a dark shawl over her head had been seen by Eliza Flight, the housemaid of the Sailor’s Rest, talking to Bolton through the window.
Were the garments borrowed as a disguise, and did the person who had borrowed them desire that it should be supposed that Widow Anne was talking to her son?
There was a chill hand clutching Lucy’s heart as she went home, for the words of Mrs. Bolton seemed indirectly to implicate Hope in the mystery.
She determined to ask him about the matter straight out, when he came in that night to pay his usual visit.
At dinner the Professor was in excellent spirits, and actually became so human as to compliment Lucy on her housekeeping.
He also mentioned that he hoped Mrs. Jasher would cater as excellently.
Over coffee he informed his step-daughter that he had entirely won the widow’s heart by abasing himself at her feet and withdrawing the accusation.
They had arranged to be married in May, one or two weeks after Lucy became Mrs. Hope.
In the autumn they would start for Egypt, and would remain abroad for a year or more.
“In fact,” said the Professor, setting down his cup and preparing to take his departure, “everything is now settled excellently. I marry Mrs. Jasher: you, my dear, marry Hope, and—”
“And Sir Frank marries Donna Inez,” finished Lucy quickly.
“That,” said Braddock stiffly, “entirely depends upon what De Gayangos says to this accusation of Hervey’s.”
“Sir Frank is innocent.”
“I hope so, and I believe so.
But he will have to prove his innocence.
I shall do my best, and I have sent round to Don Pedro to come here.
We can then talk it over.”
“Can Archie and I come in also?” asked Miss Kendal anxiously.
Somewhat to her surprise, the Professor yielded a ready assent.
“By all means, my dear.
The more witnesses we have, the better it will be.
We must do all in our powers to bring this matter to a successful issue.”
So things were arranged, and when Archie came up to the drawing-room, Lucy informed him that Braddock was in the museum with Don Pedro, telling all that had happened.
Hope was glad to hear that Lucy had secured the Professor’s consent that they should be present, for the mystery of Bolton’s terrible death was piquing him, and he dearly desired to learn the truth.
As a matter of fact, although he was unaware of it, he was suffering from an attack of detective fever, and wished to solve the mystery.
He therefore went gladly into the museum with his sweetheart.
Oddly enough—as Lucy recollected when it was too late to speak—she quite forgot to relate what Widow Anne had said about the borrowed clothes.
Don Pedro, looking more stiff and dignified than ever, was in the museum with Braddock.
The two men were seated in comfortable chairs, and Cockatoo, some distance away, was polishing with a cloth the green mummy case of the fatal object which had brought about all the trouble.
Lucy had half expected to see Donna Inez, but De Gayangos explained that he had left her writing letters to Lima in the Warrior Inn.
When Miss Kendal and Hope were seated, the Peruvian expressed himself much surprised at the charge which had been brought against Sir Frank.
“If I can speak of such things in the presence of a lady,” he remarked, bowing his head to Lucy.
“Oh yes,” she answered eagerly. “I have heard all about the charge.
And I am glad that you are here, Don Pedro, for I wish to say that I do not believe there is a word of truth in the accusation.”
“Nor do I,” asserted the Peruvian decisively.
“I agree—I agree,” cried Braddock, beaming. “And you, Hope?”
“I never believed it, even before I heard Random’s defense,” said Archie with a dry smile. “Did you not see Captain Hervey yourself, sir?” he added, turning to Don Pedro; “he started for Pierside to look you up.”
“I have not seen him,” said De Gayangos in his stately way, “and I am very sorry, as I desire to examine him about the accusation he had dared to bring against my very good friend, Sir Frank Random.
I wish he were here at this very minute, so that I could tell him what I think of the charge.”
Just as Don Pedro spoke the unexpected happened, as though some genie had obeyed his commands.
As though transported into the room by magic, the American skipper appeared, not through the floor, but by the door.
A female domestic admitted him and announced his name, then fled to avoid the anger of her master, seeing she had violated the sacred precincts of the museum.
Captain Hervey, amused by the surprise visible on every face, sauntered forward, hat on head and cheroot in mouth as usual.
But when he saw Lucy he removed both with a politeness scarcely to be expected from so rude and ready and rough a mariner.
“I beg pardon for coming here uninvited,” said Hervey awkwardly, “but I’ve been chasing the Don all over Pierside and through this village.
They told me at the police office that you”—he spoke to De Gayangos “had doubled on your trail, so here I am for a little private conversation.”