“I have the blood of the royal Inca race in my veins,” he said with pride.

“Ha!” murmured the widow to herself, “then that accounts for your love of color, which is so un-English;” then she raised her voice.  “Tell us all about it, Don Pedro,” she entreated; “we are usually so dull here that a romantic story excites us dreadfully.”

“I do not know that it is very romantic,” said Don Pedro with a polite smile, “and if you will not find it dull—­”

“Oh, no!” said Archie, who was as anxious as Mrs. Jasher to hear what was to be said about the mummy.  “Come, sir, we are all attention.”

Don Pedro bowed again, and again swept the circle with his deep-set eyes.

“The Inca Caxas,” he remarked, “was one of the decadent rulers of ancient Peru.  At the Conquest by the Spaniards, Inca Atahuallpa was murdered by Pizarro, as you probably know.  Inca Toparca succeeded him as a puppet king.  He died also, and it was suspected that he was slain by a native chief called Challcuchima.  Then Manco succeeded, and is looked upon by historians as the last Inca of Peru.  But he was not.”

“This is news, indeed,” said Random lazily.  “And who was the last Inca?”

“The man who is now the green mummy.”

“Inca Caxas,” ventured Lucy timidly.

Don Pedro looked at her sharply.  “How do you come to know the name?”

“You mentioned it just now, but, before that, I heard my father mention it,” said Lucy, who was surprised at the sharpness of his tone.

“And where did the Professor learn the name?” asked Don Pedro anxiously.

Lucy shook her head.

“I cannot say.  But go on with the story,” she continued, with the naive curiosity of a child.

“Yes, do,” pleaded Mrs. Jasher, who was listening with all her ears.

The Peruvian meditated for a few minutes, then slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat and brought out a discolored parchment, scrawled and scribbled with odd-looking letters in purple ink somewhat faded.

“Did you ever see this before?” he asked Lucy, “or any manuscript like it?”

“No,” she answered, bending forward to examine the parchment carefully.

Don Pedro again swept an inquiring eye round the circle, but everyone denied having seen the manuscript.

“What is it?” asked Sir Frank curiously.

Don Pedro restored the manuscript to his pocket.

“It is an account of the embalming of Inca Caxas, written by his son, who was my ancestor.”

“Then you are descended from this Inca?” said Mrs. Jasher eagerly.

“I am.  Had I my rights I should rule Peru.  As it is, I am a poor gentleman with very little money.  That,” added Don Pedro with emphasis, “is why I wish to recover the mummy of my great ancestor.”

“Is it then so valuable?” asked Archie suddenly.  He was thinking of some reason why the mummy should have been stolen.