The Green Mummy
assistant. “Where is he, then?”      

       “I don't know. I wish I did; I'd have him arrested for neglecting to watch over this case. As it is, when he comes back I'll dismiss him from my employment. He can go back to his infernal laundry work along with his old witch of a mother.”      

       “But why hasn't Bolton come back, sir?” asked Hope sharply.     

       Braddock struck a furious blow at the head of the chisel which he had inserted into the case.     

       “I want to know that. He brought the case to the Sailor's Rest, and should have come on with it this morning. Instead of doing so, he tells the landlord—a most unreliable man—to send it on. And my precious mummy—the mummy that has cost nine hundred pounds,” cried Braddock, working furiously, and battering the chisel as though it were Bolton's head, “is left to be stolen by any scientific thief that comes along.”        While the Professor, assisted by Cockatoo, loosened the lid of the packing case, a mild voice was heard at the door. Lucy turned, as did Archie, to see Widow Anne curtseying on the threshold of the door.     

       Braddock himself took no notice of her entrance, being occupied with his task, and even while doing it swore scientifically under his breath. He was furious against Bolton for neglect of duty, and Hope rather sympathized with him. It was a serious matter to have left a valuable object like the green mummy to the rough care of laborers.     

       “I beg your pardon, my lady,” whimpered Widow Anne, who looked more lean and rusty and dismal than ever; “but has my Sid come? I saw the cart and the coffin. Where's my boy?”      

       “Coffin! coffin!” bellowed Braddock angrily between thunder blows. “What do you mean by calling this case a coffin?”      

       “Well, it do hold one of them camphorated corps, sir,” said Mrs. Bolton with another curtsey. “My boy Sid told me as much, afore he went to them furren parts.”      

       “Have you seen him since he returned?” questioned Lucy, while Braddock and Cockatoo strained at the lid, now nearly off.     

       “Why, I ain't set eyes on him,” moaned the widow dismally, “and summat tells me as I never will.”      


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