us fear, nodded and tottered towards the
door of the museum; but Widow Anne refused to be lifted to her feet.

"My boy is dead," she wailed; "my boy Sid is a corp as I saw him in my
dream. In the coffin, too, cut to pieces--"

"Rubbish! rubbish!" interrupted Braddock, peering into the depths of the
packing case. "I can see no wound."

Mrs. Bolton leaped to her feet with an agility surprising in so aged a
woman. "Let me find the wound," she screamed, throwing herself forward.

Hope caught her back and forced her towards the door. "No! The body must
not be disturbed until the police see it," he said firmly.

"The police--ah, yes, the police," remarked Braddock quickly, "we must
send for the police to Pierside and tell them my mummy has been stolen."

"That my boy has been murdered," screeched Widow Anne, waving her skinny
arms, and striving to break from Archie. "You wicked old devil to kill
my darling Sid. If he hadn't gone to them furren parts he wouldn't be a
corp now. But I'll have the lawr: you'll be hanged, you--you--"

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.

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-