“What you have stated, sir, may have occurred,” rasped Date in a military voice, “but we cannot prove the truth of your assumption, since the evidence at our disposal is merely circumstantial.”

“I never suggested that it was anything else,” snapped the Coroner.  “You waste time in traversing my statements.  Say what you have to say, Mr. Inspector, and produce your witnesses—­if you have any.”

“There are no witnesses who can swear to the identity of the murderer,” said Inspector Date coldly, and determined not to be ruffled by the apparent antagonism of the Coroner.  “The criminal has vanished, and no one can guess his name or occupation, or even the reason which led him to slay the deceased.”

Coroner:  “The reason is plain.  He wanted the mummy.”

Inspector:  “Why should he want the mummy?”

Coroner:  “That is what we wish to find out.”

Inspector:  “Exactly, sir.  We wish to learn the reason why the murderer strangled the deceased.”

Coroner:  “We know that reason.  What we wish to know is why the murderer stole the mummy.  And I would point out to you, Mr. Inspector, that, as yet, we do not even know the sex of the assassin.  It might be a woman who murdered the deceased.”

Professor Braddock, who was seated near the door of the coffee-room, being even more irascible than usual, rose to contradict.

“There isn’t a scrap of evidence to show that the murderer was a woman.”

Coroner:  “You are out of order, sir.  And I would point out that, as yet, Inspector Date has produced no witnesses.”

Date glared.  He and the Coroner were old enemies, and always sparred when they met.  It seemed likely, that the peppery little Professor would join in the quarrel and that there would be a duel of three; but Date, not wishing for an adverse report in the newspapers as to his conduct of the case, contented himself with the glare aforesaid, and, after a short speech, called Braddock.  The Professor, looking more like a cross cherub than ever, gave his evidence tartly.  It seemed ridiculous to his prejudiced mind that all this fuss should be made over Bolton’s body, when the mummy; was still missing.  However, as the discovery of the criminal would assuredly lead to the regaining of that precious Peruvian relic, he curbed his wrath and answered the Coroner’s questions in a fairly amiable fashion.

And, after all, Braddock had very little to tell.  He had, so he stated, seen an advertisement in a newspaper that a mummy, swathed in green bandages, was to be sold in Malta; and had sent his assistant to buy it and bring it home.  This was done, and what happened after the mummy left the tramp steamer was known to everyone, through the medium of the press.

“With which,” grumbled the Professor, “I do not agree.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked the Coroner sharply.

“I mean, sir,” snapped Braddock, equally sharply, “that the publicity given by the newspapers to these details will probably place the assassin on his guard.”