“What events?--what events?” demanded Mrs. Jasher, now quite exasperated. “I am about to tell you,” snapped her future husband, and related all that had taken place since the arrival of Captain Hervey in the museum at the Pyramids. The women listened with interest and with growing astonishment, only interrupting the narrator with a simultaneous exclamation of indignation when they heard that Sir Frank was accused. “It is utterly and wholly absurd,” cried Lucy angrily. “Sir Frank is the soul of honor.” “So I think, my dear,” chimed in Mrs. Jasher. “And what does he say to--?” Braddock interrupted. “I am about to tell you, if you will stop talking,” he cried crossly. “That is so like a woman. She asks for an explanation and then prevents the man from giving it. Random offers a very good defense, I am bound to say,” and he detailed what Sir Frank had said. When the history was finished, Lucy rose to go. “I shall see Archie at once,” she said, moving hastily, towards the door. “What for?” demanded her father benignly. Lucy turned. “This thing can't go on,” she declared resolutely. “Mrs. Jasher was accused by you, father--” “Only in a heated moment,” cried the Professor, excusing himself. “Never mind, she was accused,” retorted Lucy stubbornly, “and now this sailor accuses Sir Frank. Who knows who will be charged next with committing the crime? I shall ask Archie to take the matter up, and hunt down the real criminal. Until the guilty person is found, I foresee that we shall never have a moment's peace.” “I quite agree with you,” said Mrs. Jasher earnestly. “For my own sake I wish the matter of this mystery to be cleared up. Why don't you help me?” she added, turning to Braddock, who listened placidly. “I am helping,” said Braddock quietly. “I intend to set Cockatoo on the trail at once. He shall take up his abode in the Sailor's Rest on some pretext, and no doubt will be able to find a clue.” “What?” cried the widow incredulously, “a savage like that?” “Cockatoo is much cleverer than the average white man,” said Braddock dryly, “especially in following a trail. He, if any one, will learn the truth. I would much rather trust the Kanaka than young Hope.” “Nonsense!” cried Lucy, standing up for her lover. “Archie is the one to discover the assassin. I'll see him at once. And you, father?” “I, my dear,” said the Professor calmly, “shall remain here and make my peace with the future Mrs. Braddock.” “You have made it already,” said the widow graciously, and extended her hand, which the Professor kissed unexpectedly, and then sat back in his chair, looking quite abashed at his outburst of gallantry.