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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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Read books online » Fiction » The Green Mummy by Fergus Hume (best summer reads of all time TXT) 📖

Book online «The Green Mummy by Fergus Hume (best summer reads of all time TXT) 📖». Author Fergus Hume



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had not yet returned, but was expected back every moment. In the meanwhile, as Braddock and Hope were both extremely well known, they were shown into Random’s quarters, which were on the first floor. When the soldier-servant retired and the door was closed, Hope seated himself near the window, while Braddock trotted round, looking into things.

“It’s a dog kennel,” said the Professor. “I told Random that.”

“Perhaps we should have waited him in the mess,” suggested Archie.

“No! no! no! We couldn’t talk there, with a lot of silly young fools hanging about. I told Random that I would never enter the mess, so he invited me to come always to his quarters. He was in love with Lucy then,” chuckled the Professor, “and nothing was too good for me.”

“Not even the dog kennel,” said Hope dryly, for the Professor’s chatter was so rude as to be quite annoying.

“Pooh! pooh! pooh! Random doesn’t mind a joke. You, Hope, have no sense of humor. Your name is Scotch also. I believe you are a Caledonian.”

“I am nothing of the sort. I was born on this side of the border.”

“You might have been born at the North Pole for all I care,” said the little man politely. “I don’t like artists: they are usually silly. I wish Lucy had married a man of science. Now don’t talk rubbish. I know what you are going to say.”

“Well,” said Archie, humoring him, “what am I going to say?”

This non-plussed the irritable savant.

“Hum! Hum! hum! I don’t know and don’t care. Pouf! How hot this room is! What a number of books of travel Random has!” Braddock was now at the bookcase, which consisted of shelves swung by cords against the wall.

“Random travels a great deal,” Archie reminded him.

“Quite so: quite so. Wastes his money on that silly yacht. But he hasn’t traveled in South America. I expect he’s going there. Come here, Hope, and see the many, many books about Peru and Chili and Brazil. There must be a dozen, and all library books too.”

Archie sauntered towards the shelves.

“I expect Random is getting up the subject of South America, so as to talk to Donna Inez.”

“Probably! probably!” snapped Braddock, pulling several of the books out of place. “Why, there isn’t a - Ah, dear me! What a catastrophe!”

He might well say so, for in his desire to examine the books, they all tipped off the shelves and lay in a disorderly heap on the floor. Hope began to pick them up and replace them, and so did the author of the mischief. Among the books were several papers scribbled with notes, and Braddock bundled these all in a heap.. Shortly, he caught sight of the writing on one.

“Hullo! Latin,” said he, and read a line or two. “Oh!” he gasped, “Hope! Hope! The manuscript of Don Pedro!”

“Impossible!”

Archie rose and stared at the discolored paper.

“Sorry to have kept you,” said Random, entering at this moment.

“You villain!” shouted Braddock furiously, “so you are guilty after all?”

CHAPTER XVII CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE

Random was so taken aback by the fierce accusation of the Professor that he stood suddenly still at the door, and did not advance into the room. Yet he did not look so much afraid as puzzled. Whatever Braddock might have thought, Hope, from the expression on the young soldier’s face, was more than ever satisfied of his innocence.

“What are you talking about, Professor?” asked Random, genuinely surprised.

“You know well enough,” retorted the Professor.

“Upon my word I don’t,” said the other, walking into the room and unbuckling his sword. “I find you here, with the contents of my bookcase on the floor, and you promptly accuse me of being guilty. Of what, I should like to know? Perhaps you can tell me Hope.”

“There is no need for Hope to tell you, sir. You are perfectly well aware of your own villainy.”

Random frowned.

“I allow a certain amount of latitude to my guests, Professor,” he said with marked dignity, “but for a man of your age and position you go too far. Be more explicit.”

“Allow me to speak,” intervened Archie, anticipating Braddock. “Random, the Professor has just had a visit from Captain Hiram Hervey, who was the skipper of The Diver. He accuses you of having murdered Bolton “

“What?” the baronet started back, looking thunderstruck.

“Wait a moment. I have not finished yet. Hervey accuses you of this murder, of stealing the mummy, of gaining possession of the emeralds, and of placing the rifled corpse in Mrs. Jasher’s garden, so that she might be accused of committing the crime.”

“Exactly,” cried Braddock, seeing that his host remained silent from sheer surprise. “Hope has stated the case very clearly. Now, sir, your defense?”

“Defense! defense!” Random found his tongue at last and spoke indignantly. “I have no defense to make.”

“Ah! Then you acknowledge your guilt?”

“I acknowledge nothing. The accusation is too preposterous for any denial to be necessary. Do you believe this of me?” He looked from one to the other.

“I don’t,” said Archie quickly, “there is some mistake.”

“Thank you, Hope. And you, Professor?”

Braddock fidgeted about the room.

“I don’t know what to think,” he said at length. “Hervey spoke very decisively.”

“Oh, indeed,” returned Random dryly, and, walking to the door, he locked it. “In that case, I must ask you for an explanation, and neither of you shall leave this room until one is given. Your proofs?”

“Here is one of them,” snapped Braddock, throwing the manuscript on the table. “Where did you get this?”

Random took up the discolored paper with a bewildered air.

“I never set eyes on this before,” he said, much puzzled. “What is it?”

“A copy of the manuscript mentioned by Don Pedro, which describes the two emeralds buried with the mummy of Inca Caxas”

“I see.” Random understood all in a moment. “So you say that I knew of the emeralds from this, and so murdered Bolton to obtain them.”

“Pardon me,” said Braddock with elaborate politeness. “Hervey says that you murdered my poor assistant, and although my discovery of this manuscript proves that you must have known about the jewels, I say nothing. I wait to hear your defense.”

“That’s very good of you,” remarked Sir Frank ironically. “So it seems that I am in the dock. Perhaps the counsel for the prosecution will state the evidence against me,” and he looked again from one to the other.

Archie shook the baronet by the hand very warmly.

“My dear fellow,” he declared decidedly, “I don’t believe one word of the evidence.”

“In that case there must be a flaw in it,” retorted Random, but did not seem to be unmoved by Hope’s generous action. “Sit down, Professor; it appears that you are against me.”

“Until I hear your defense,” said the old man obstinately.

“I cannot make any until I hear your evidence. Go on. I am waiting,” and Sir Frank flung himself into a chair, where he sat calmly, his eyes steadily fixed on the Professor’s face.

“Where did you get that manuscript?” asked Braddock sharply.

“I got it nowhere: this is the first time I have seen it.”

“Yet it was hidden amongst your books.”

“Then I can’t say how it got there. Were you looking for it,?”

“No! Certainly not. To pass the time while waiting, I examined your library, and in pulling out a book, your case, being a swing one, over-balanced and shot its contents on to the floor. Amongst the papers which fell with the books, I caught a glimpse of the manuscript, and, noting that it was written in Latin, I picked it up, surprised to think that a frivolous young man, such as you are, should study a dead language. A few words showed me that the manuscript was a copy of the one referred to by Don Pedro.”

“One moment,” said Archie, who had been thinking. “Perhaps this is the original manuscript, which De Gayangos has given to you, Random.”

“It is good of you to afford me a loophole of escape,” said Sir Frank, leaning back with folded arms, “but De Gayangos gave me nothing. I saw the manuscript in his hands, when he showed it to us all at Mrs. Jasher’s. But whether this is the original or a copy I can’t say. Don Pedro certainly did not give it to me.”

“Has Don Pedro been in your quarters?” asked Hope thoughtfully.

“No. He has only visited me in the mess. And even if Don Pedro did come in here - for I guess what is in your mind - I really do not see why he should slip a manuscript which he values highly amongst my books.”

“Then you really never saw this before?” said Braddock, indicating the paper on the table, and impressed by Random’s earnestness.

“How often do you want me to deny it?” retorted the young man impatiently. “Perhaps you will state on what grounds I am accused?”

Braddock nodded and cleared his throat.

“Captain Hervey declared that your yacht arrived at Pierside almost at the same time as his steamer.”

“Quite right. When Don Pedro received a wire from Malta stating that the mummy had been sold to you, and that it was being shipped to London on The Diver, I got up steam at once, and chased the tramp to that port. As the tramp was slow, and my boat was fast, I arrived on the same day and almost at the same hour, even though Hervey’s boat had the start of mine.”

“Why were you anxious to follow The Diver?” asked Hope.

“Don Pedro wished to get back the mummy, and asked me to follow. As I was in love with Donna Inez, and still am, I was only too willing to oblige him.”

Braddock nodded again.

“Hervey says that you went on board The Diver, and had an interview with Bolton.”

“That is perfectly true, and my visit was paid for the same reason as I followed the steamer to London - that is, I acted on behalf of Don Pedro. I wished to ascertain for certain that the mummy was on board, and having done so from Bolton, I urged him to induce you to give back the same, free of charge, to De Gayangos, from whom it had been stolen. He refused, as he declared that he intended to deliver it to you.”

“I knew I could always trust Bolton,” said the Professor enthusiastically. “It would have been better for you to have come to me, Random.”

“I daresay; but I wished, as I told you, to make certain that the mummy was on board. That was the real reason for my visit; but, being in Bolton’s company, I naturally told him that Don Pedro claimed the mummy as his property, and warned him that if you or he kept the same, that there would be trouble.”

“Did you use threats?” asked Hope, remembering what he had overheard.

“No; certainly not.”

“Yes, you did,” cried Braddock quickly. “Hervey declares that you told Bolton that he would repent of keeping the mummy, and that his life would not be safe while he held it.”

To the surprise of both visitors, Random admitted using these serious threats without a moment’s hesitation.

“Don Pedro told me that many Indians, both in Lima and Cuzco, who look upon him as the lawful descendant of the last Inca, are anxiously expecting the return of the royal mummy. He also stated that when the Indians knew who held the mummy they would send one of themselves to get it back, if he - Don Pedro, that is - did not fetch it. To get back the mummy Don Pedro declared that these Indians would not stop short of murder. Hence

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