what he conceived was a compliment; "and, should you die, I shall
certainly attend to your embalming, if you prefer that to
cremation."

"You dreadful man!" cried the widow, turning pale and shrinking.
"Why, I really believe that you would like to see me packed away
in one of those disgusting coffins."

"Disgusting!" cried the outraged Professor, striking one of the
brilliantly tinted cases. "Can you call so beautiful a specimen
of sepulchral art disgusting? Look at the colors, at the
regularity of the hieroglyphics--why, the history of the dead is
set out in this magnificent series of pictures." He adjusted his
pince-nez and began to read, "The Osirian, Scemiophis that is a
female name, Mrs. Jasher--who--"

"I don't want to have my history written on my coffin,"
interrupted the widow hysterically, for this funereal talk
frightened her. "It would take much more space than a mummy case
upon which to write it. My life has been volcanic, I can tell
you. By the way," she added hurriedly, seeing that Braddock was
on the eve of resuming the reading, "tell me about your Inca
mummy. Has it arrived?"

The Professor immediately followed the false trail. "Not yet,"
he said briskly, rubbing his smooth hands, "but in three days I
expect The Diver will be at Pierside, and Sidney will bring the
mummy on here. I shall unpack it at once and learn exactly how
the ancient Peruvians embalmed their dead. Doubtless they
learned the art from--"