“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.