inexplicable. It was difficult enough to understand how the
assassin could have murdered Bolton and opened the packing case,
and removed the mummy to replace it by the body of his victim in
a house filled with at least half a dozen people; but it was yet
more difficult to guess how the criminal had escaped with so
noticeable an object as the mummy, bandaged with emerald-hued
woollen stuff woven from the hair of Peruvian llamas. If the
culprit was one who thieved and murdered for gain, he could
scarcely sell the mummy without being arrested, since all England
was ringing with the news of its disappearance; if a scientist,
impelled to robbery by an archaeological mania, he could not
possibly keep possession of the mummy without someone learning
that he possessed it. Meanwhile the thief and his plunder had
vanished as completely as if the earth had swallowed both. Great
was the wonder at the cleverness of the criminal, and many were
the solutions offered to account for the disappearance. One
enterprising weekly paper, improving on the Limerick craze,
offered a furnished house and three pounds a week for life to the
fortunate person who could solve the mystery. As yet no one
had won the prize, but it was early days yet, and at least five
thousand amateur detectives tried to work out the problem.

Naturally Hope was sorry for the untimely death of Bolton, whom
he had known as an amiable and clever young man. But he was also
annoyed that his loan of the money to Braddock should have been,
so to speak, nullified by the loss of the mummy. The Professor
was perfectly furious at his double loss of assistant and
embalmed corpse, and was only prevented from offering a reward
for the discovery of the thief and assassin by the painful fact
that he had no money. He hinted to Archie that a reward should