“Then, from the condition of the body”—­the doctor felt the dead flesh—­“he must have been murdered last night.  H’m!  With your permission, Painter, I’ll examine the corpse.”

The constable shook his head.  “Better wait, sir, until the inspector comes,” he said in his unintelligent way.  “Poor Sid!  Why, I knew him.  He was at school with me, and now he’s dead.  Who killed him?”

None of his listeners could answer this question.

CHAPTER VI

THE INQUEST

Like a geographical Lord Byron, the isolated village of Gartley awoke one morning to find itself famous.  Previously unknown, save to the inhabitants of Brefort, Jessum, and the surrounding country, and to the soldiers stationed in the Fort, it became a nine days’ centre of interest.  Inspector Date of Pierside arrived with his constables to inquire into the reported crime, and the local journalists, scenting sensation, came flying to Gartley on bicycles and in traps.  Next morning London was duly advised that a valuable mummy was missing, and that the assistant of Professor Braddock, who had been sent to fetch it from Malta, was murdered by strangulation.  In a couple of days the three kingdoms were ringing with the news of the mystery.

And a mystery it proved, to be, for, in spite of Inspector Date’s efforts and the enterprise of Scotland Yard detectives summoned by the Professor, no clue could be found to the identity of the assassin.  Briefly, the story told by the newspapers ran as follows: 

The tramp steamer Diver—­Captain George Hervey in command—­had berthed alongside the Pierside jetty at four o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon in mid-September, and some two hours later Sidney Bolton removed the case, containing the green mummy, ashore.

As it was impossible to carry the case to the Pyramids on that night, Bolton had placed it in his bedroom at the Sailor’s Rest, a mean little public-house of no very savory reputation near the water’s edge.  He was last seen alive by the landlord and the barmaid, when, after a drink of harmless ginger-beer, he retired to bed at eight, leaving instructions to the landlord—­overheard by the barmaid—­that the case was to be sent on next day to Professor Braddock of Gartley.  Bolton hinted that he might leave the hotel early and would probably precede the case to its destination, so as to advise Professor Braddock—­necessarily anxious—­of its safe arrival.  Before retiring he paid his bill, and deposited in the landlord’s hand a small sum of money, so that the case might be sent across stream to Brefort, thence to be taken in a lorry to the Pyramids.  There was no sign, said the barmaid and the landlord, that Bolton contemplated suicide, or that he feared sudden death.  His whole demeanor was cheerful, and he expressed himself exceedingly glad to be in England once more.