The Professor nodded.

“Quite so:  quite so.  And what I say I hold to,” he retorted, “especially as I have proved myself a true prophet.  You can both see for yourselves,” he waved his hand towards the rifled case, “that poor Sidney must have been killed for the sake of the emeralds.  The question is, who killed him?”

“The person who knew about the jewels,” said Don Pedro promptly.

“Of course:  but who did know?  I was ignorant until you told me about the manuscript.  And you, Hope?” He searched Archie’s face.

“Do you intend to accuse me?” questioned the young man with a slight laugh.  “I assure you, Professor, that I was ignorant of what had been buried with the corpse, until Don Pedro related his story the other night to myself and Random, and the ladies.”

Braddock turned impatiently to De Gayangos, as he did not approve of Archie’s apparent flippancy.

“Does any one else know of the contents of this manuscript?” he demanded irritably.

Don Pedro nursed his chin and looked musingly on the ground.

“It is just possible that Vasa may.”

“Vasa?  Vasa?  Oh yes, the sailor who stole the mummy thirty years ago from your father in Lima.  Pooh! pooh! pooh!  You tell me that this manuscript is written in Latin, and evidently in monkish Latin at that, which is of the worst.  Your sailor could not read it, and would not know the value of the manuscript.  If he had, he would have carried it off.”

“Senor,” said the Peruvian politely, “I have an idea that my father made a translation of this manuscript, or at all events a copy.”

“But I understood,” put in Hope, still astride of his chair, “that you did not find the original manuscript until your father died.”

“That is quite true, sir,” assented the other readily, “but I did not tell you everything the other night.  My father it was who found the manuscript at Cuzco, and although I cannot state authoritatively, yet I believe I am correct in saying that he had a copy made.  But whether the copy was merely a transcript or actually a translation, I cannot tell.  I think it was the former, as if Vasa, reading a translation, had learned of the jewels, he undoubtedly would have stolen them before selling this mummy to the Parisian collector.”

“Perhaps he did,” said Braddock, pointing to the rifled corpse.  “You see that the emeralds are missing.”

“Your assistant’s assassin stole them,” insisted Don Pedro coldly.

“We cannot be sure of that,” retorted the Professor, “although I admit that no man would jeopardize his neck for the sake of a corpse.”

Archie looked surprised.

“But an enthusiast such as you are, Professor, might risk so much.”

For once in his life Braddock made a good-humored reply.