“But he is poor and Random is rich.”

“I don’t care.  I love Archie and I don’t love Frank.”

“Would you have me lose the mummy for ever?”

“Yes, I would, if my misery is to be the price of its restoration.  Why should I sell myself to a man I care nothing about, just because you want a musty, fusty old corpse?  Now I am going.”  Lucy walked to the door.  “I shan’t listen to another word.  And if you bother me again, I shall marry Archie at once and leave the house.”

“I can make you leave it in any case, you ungrateful girl,” bellowed Braddock, who was purple with rage, never having a very good temper at the best of times.  “Look what I have done for you!”

Miss Kendal could have pointed out that her step-father had done nothing save attend to himself.  But she disdained such an argument, and without another word opened the door and walked out.  Almost immediately afterwards Cockatoo entered, much to the relief of the Professor, who relieved his feelings by kicking the unfortunate Kanaka.  Then he sat down again to consider ways and means of obtaining the necessary mummy and still more necessary money.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BARONET

Sir Frank Random was an amiable young gentleman with—­as the saying goes—­all his goods in the shop window.  Fair-haired and tall, with a well-knit, athletic figure, a polished manner, and a man-of-the-world air, he strictly resembled the romantic officer of Bow Bells, Family Herald, Young Ladies’ Journal fiction.  But the romance was all in his well-groomed looks, as he was as commonplace a Saxon as could be met with in a day’s march.  Fond of sport, attentive to his duties as artillery captain, and devoted to what is romantically known as the fair sex, he sauntered easily through life, very well contented with himself and with his agreeable surroundings.  He read fiction when he did read, and those weekly papers devoted to sport; troubled his head very little about politics, save when they had to do with a possible German invasion, and was always ready to do any one a good turn.  His brother-officers declared that he was not half a bad sort, which was high praise from the usually reticent service man.  His capacity may be accurately gauged by the fact that he did not possess a single enemy, and that every one spoke well of him.  A mortal who possesses no quality likely to be envied by those around him is certain to belong to the rank and file of humanity.  But these unconsidered units of mankind can always console themselves with the undoubted fact that mediocrity is invariably happy.