“Guess your property should behave itself then,” said the captain in careless tones, and sauntered into the room. “D'y think I'm goin' to be chucked out by a measly nigger and--Great Scott!”--this latter exclamation was extorted by the sight of the mummy. Braddock motioned to the still angry Cockatoo to move aside, and then nodded triumphantly. “You didn't expect to see that, did you?” he asked. Hervey came to anchor on a chair and turned the cheroot in his mouth with an odd look at the mummy. “When will he be hanged?” Braddock stared. “When will who be hanged?” “The man as stole that thing.” “We haven't found him yet,” Braddock informed him swiftly. “Then how in creation did you annex the corpse.” The Professor sat down and explained. The lean, long mariner listened quietly, only nodding at intervals. He did not seem to be surprised when he heard that the corpse of the head Inca had been found in Mrs. Jasher's garden, especially when Braddock explained the whereabouts of the property. “Wal,” he drawled, “that don't make my hair stand on end. I guess the garden was on his way and he used it for a cemetery.” “What are you talking about?” demanded the perplexed scientist. “About the man who strangled your help and yanked away the corpse.” “But I don't know who he is. Nobody knows.” “Go slow. I do.” “You!” Braddock started and flung himself across the room to seize Hervey by the lapels of his reefer coat. “You know. Tell me who he is, so that I can get the emeralds.” “Emeralds!” Hervey removed Braddock's plump hands and stared greedily. “Don't you know? No, of course you don't. But two emeralds were buried with the mummy, and they have been stolen.” “Who by?” “No doubt by the assassin who murdered poor Sidney.” Hervey spat on the floor, and his weather-beaten face took on an expression of, profound regret. “I guess I'm a fool of the best.” “Why?” asked Braddock, again puzzled. “To think,” said Hervey, addressing the mummy, “that you were on board my boat, and I never looted you.” “What!” Braddock stamped. “Would you have committed theft?” “Theft be hanged!” was the reply. “It ain't thieving to loot the dead. I guess a corpse hasn't got any use for jewels. You bet I'd have gummed straightways onto that mummy, when I brought it from Malta in the old Diver, had I known it was a jeweler's shop of sorts. Huh! Two emeralds, and I never knew. I could kick myself.” “You are a blackguard,” gasped the astonished Professor. “Oh, shucks!” was the elegant retort, “give it a rest. I'm no worse than that dandy gentleman who added murder to stealing, anyhow.” “Ah!” Braddock bounded off his chair like an india-rubber ball, “you said that you knew who had committed the murder.” “Wal,” drawled Hervey again, “I do and I don't. That is I suspect, but I can't swear to the business before a judge.” “Who killed Bolton?” asked the Professor furiously. “Tell me at once.” “Not me, unless it's made worth my while.”