of the criminal, and many were
the solutions offered to account for the disappearance. One enterprising
weekly paper, improving on the Limerick craze, offered a furnished house
and three pounds a week for life to the fortunate person who could solve
the mystery. As yet no one had won the prize, but it was early days
yet, and at least five thousand amateur detectives tried to work out the
problem.

Naturally Hope was sorry for the untimely death of Bolton, whom he had
known as an amiable and clever young man. But he was also annoyed
that his loan of the money to Braddock should have been, so to speak,
nullified by the loss of the mummy. The Professor was perfectly furious
at his double loss of assistant and embalmed corpse, and was only
prevented from offering a reward for the discovery of the thief and
assassin by the painful fact that he had no money. He hinted to Archie
that a reward should be offered, but that young man, backed by Lucy,
declined to throw away good money after bad. Braddock took this refusal
so ill, that Hope felt perfectly convinced he would try and wriggle
out of his promise to permit the marriage and persuade Lucy to engage
herself to Sir Frank Random, should the baronet be willing to offer a
reward. And Hope was also certain that Braddock, a singularly
obstinate man, would never rest until he once more had the mummy in
his possession. That the murderer of Sidney Bolton should be hanged was
quite a minor consideration with the Professor.

Meanwhile Widow Anne had insisted on the dead body being taken to her
cottage, and Braddock, with the consent of Inspector Date, willingly
agreed, as he did not wish a newly dead corpse to remain under his roof.
Therefore, the remains of the unfortunate young man were taken to
his humble home, and here the body was inspected by the jury when the
inquest took place in the coffee-room of the Warrior Inn, immediately
opposite Mrs. Bolton's abode. There was a large crowd round the inn, as
people had come from far and wide to hear the verdict of the jury, and
Gartley, for the first and only time in its existence, presented the
aspect of an August Bank Holiday.

The Coroner--an elderly doctor with a short temper; caused by the
unrealized ambition of a country practitioner--opened the proceedings by
a snappy speech, in which he set forth the details of the crime in the
same bold fashion in which they had been published by the newspapers.
A plan of the Sailor's Rest wa