“Do you mean to say that the window was locked from the outside?” asked Braddock, and then, when Hervey nodded, he exclaimed “Impossible!”

“Narry an impossibility, you bet.  The chap who engineered the circus was all-fired smart.  The snib was an old one, and he yanked a piece of string round it, and passed the string through the crack between the upper and lower sash of the window.  When outside he pulled, and the snib slid into place.  But he left the string on the ground outside.  I picked it up nex’ day and guessed the racket he’d been on.  I tried the same business and brought off the deal.”

“It sounds wonderful and yet impossible,” cried Braddock, rubbing his bald head and walking excitedly to and fro.  “See here, I’ll come along with you and see how it’s done.”

“You bet you won’t, unless you shell out.  See here”—­Hervey leaned forward—­“from that window business it’s plain that no one inside the shanty corpsed your pal.  The chap as did it entered and left by the window, and made tracks with that old corp you want.  Now you pass along five hundred pounds—­that’s English currency, I reckon—­and I’ll smell round for the robber.”

“And where do you think I can obtain five hundred pounds?” asked the Professor very dryly.

“Well, I guess if that blamed corpse is worth it, you’ll be willing to trade.  Y’don’t live in this shanty for nothing.”

“My good friend, I have enough to live on, and obtain this house at a small rent on account of its isolation.  But I can no more find the sum of five hundred pounds than fly.”

Hervey rose and straightened his legs.

“Then I guess I’d best be getting back to Pierside.”

“One moment, sir.  Did anything happen on the voyage?—­did Bolton say anything likely to lead you to suppose that he was in danger of being robbed and murdered?”

“No,” said the skipper musingly, and pulling his goatee.  “He told me that he had secured the old corpse, and was bringing it home to you.  I didn’t talk much to Bolton; he wasn’t my style.”

“Have you any idea who killed him?”

“No, I ain’t.”

“Then how do you propose to find the criminal who has the mummy?”

“You give me five hundred pounds and see,” said Hervey coolly.

“I haven’t got the money.”

“Then I reckon you don’t get the corpse.  So long,” and the skipper strolled towards the door.  Braddock followed him.

“You have a clue?”

“No, I’ve got nothing; not even that five hundred pounds you make such a fuss over.  It’s a wasted day with H.H., I surmise.  Wait!” He scribbled on a card and flung it across the room.  “That’s my Pierside address if you should change your blamed mind.”

The Professor picked up the card.  “The Sailor’s Rest!  What, are you stopping there?” Then, when Hervey nodded, he cried violently, “Why, I believe you have a clue, and stop at the hotel to follow it up.”