In the museum they found Braddock purple with rage and swearing vigorously.  He was staring at a large packing case, which had been set up on end against the wall, while beside him crouched Cockatoo, holding chisels and hammers and wedges necessary to open the treasure trove.

“So the precious mummy has arrived, father,” said Lucy, who saw that the Professor was furious.  “Are you not pleased?”

“Pleased! pleased!” shouted the angry man of science.  “How can I be pleased when I see how badly the case has been treated?  See how it has been bruised and battered and shaken!  I’ll have an action against Captain Hervey of The Diver if my mummy has been injured.  Sidney should have taken better care of so precious an object.”

“What does he say?” asked Archie, glancing round the museum to see if the delinquent had arrived.

“Say!” shouted Braddock again, and snatching a chisel from Cockatoo.  “Oh, what can he say when he is not here?”

“Not here?” said Lucy, more and more surprised at the unaccountable absence of Braddock’s 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.”