He read the confession and made notes; then he sent for Sir Frank Random, and examined him in the same strict way as he had examined the artist.
Jane was also questioned.
Widow Anne was put in the witness box, so as to report about the clothes, and in every way Date gathered material for another inquest.
At the former one he had only been able to place scanty evidence before the jury, and the verdict had been unsatisfactory to the public.
But on this occasion, seeing that the witnesses he could bring forward would solve the mystery of the first death as well as the second, Inspector Date exulted greatly.
He saw himself promoted and his salary raised, and his name praised in the papers as a zealous and clever officer.
By the time the inquest came to be held, the inspector had talked himself into believing that the whole mystery had been solved by himself.
But before that time came another event happened which astonished everyone, and which made the final phase of the green mummy crime even more sensational than it had been. And Heaven knows that from beginning to end there had been no lack of melodrama of the most lurid description.
Don Pedro de Gayangos was exceedingly amazed at the unexpected turn which the case had taken.
That he should have been trying to solve a deep mystery for so long, and that the solution, all the time, had been in the hands of the Professor, startled him exceedingly.
He admitted that he had never liked Braddock, but explained that he had not expected to hear that the fiery little scientist was such a scoundrel.
But, as Don Pedro confessed, it was an ill wind which blew him some good, when the upshot of the whole mysterious tragic business was the restoration of at least one emerald. Sir Frank brought the gem to him on the afternoon of the day succeeding Mrs. Jasher’s death, and while the whole village was buzzing with excitement.
It was Random who gave all details to Donna Inez and her father, leading from one revelation to another, until he capped the whole extraordinary story by producing the splendid gem.
“Mine! mine!” said Don Pedro, his dark eyes glittering. “Thanks be to the Virgin and the Saints,” and he bowed his head to make the sign of the cross devoutly on his breast.
Donna Inez clapped her hands and her eyes flashed, for, like every woman, she had a profound love for jewels.
“Oh, how lovely, Frank! It must be worth no end of money.”
“Professor Braddock sold the other to some Indian rajah in Amsterdam—through an agent, I presume for three thousand pounds.”
“I shall get more than that,” said Don Pedro quickly. “The Professor sold his jewel in a hurry and had no time to bargain.
But sooner or later I shall get five thousand pounds for this.”
He held the gem in the sunlight, where it glowed like an emerald sun.
“Why, it is worthy of a king’s crown.”
“I fear you will never get the other gem,” said Random regretfully. “I believe that it is on its way to India, if Mrs. Jasher can be trusted.”
“Never mind.
I shall be content with this one, senor.
I have simple tastes, and this will do much to restore the fortunes of my family.
When I go back with this and the green mummy, all those Indians who know of my descent from the ancient Incas will be delighted and will pay me fresh reverence.”
“But you forget,” said Random, frowning, “the green mummy has been taken away by Professor Braddock.”
“They cannot have gone far with it,” said Donna Inez, shrugging.
“I don’t know so much about that, dearest,” said Sir Frank. “Apparently, since they handled it at the time of the murder, it is easier carried about than one would think.
And then they fled last night, or rather in the small hours of this morning, under cover of a dense fog.”
“It is clear enough now,” said De Gayangos, peering through the window, where a pale winter sun shone in a clear steel-hued sky. “They are bound to be caught in the long run.”
“Do you wish them to be caught?” asked Random abruptly.
“Not the Professor.
For Miss Lucy’s sake I hope he will escape; but I trust that the savage who killed these two unfortunate people will be brought to the gallows.”
“So do I,” said Random. “Well, Don Pedro, it seems to me that your task in Gartley is ended.
All you have to do is to wait for the inquest and see Mrs. Jasher buried, poor soul!
Then you can go to London and remain there until after Christmas.”
“But why should I remain in London?” asked the Peruvian, surprised.
Random glanced at Donna Inez, who blushed.
“You forget that you have given your consent to my marriage with—”
“Ah, yes,” Don Pedro smiled gravely. “I return with the jewel to Lima, but I leave my other jewel behind.”
“Never mind,” said the girl, kissing her father; “when Frank and I are married we will come to Callao in his yacht.”
“Our yacht,” said Random, smiling.
“Our yacht,” repeated Donna Inez. “And then you will see, father, that I have become a real English lady.”
“But don’t entirely forget that you are a Peruvian,” said Don Pedro playfully.
“And a descendant of Inca Caxas,” added Donna Inez. Then she flirted her fan, which she was rarely without, and laughed in her English lover’s face. “Don’t forget, senor, that you marry a princess.”
“I marry the most charming girl in the world,” he replied, catching her in his arms, rather to the scandal of De Gayangos, who had stiff Spanish notions regarding the etiquette of engaged couples.
“There is one thing you must do for me, senor,” he said quietly, “before we leave this most unhappy case of murder and theft for ever.”
“What is that?” asked Sir Frank, turning with Inez in his arms.
“To-night at eight o’clock, Captain Hervey—the sailor Gustav Vasa, if you prefer the name—steams down the river in his new boat The Firefly.