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 ***, 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.
Such a man as Random would never set the Thames on fire, and certainly he had no ambition to perform that astounding feat. He was fond of his profession and intended to remain in the army as long as he could. He desired to marry and beget a family, and retire, when set free from soldiering, to his country seat, and there perform blamelessly the congenial role of a village squire, until called upon to join the respectable corpses in the Random vault. Not that he was a saint or ever could be one. Neither black nor white, he was simply gray, being an ordinary mixture of good and bad. As theology has provided no hereafter for gray people, it is hard to imagine where the bulk of humanity will go.
But doubts on this point never troubled Random. He went to church, kept his mouth shut and his pores open and vaguely believed that it would be all right somehow. A very comfortable if superficial philosophy indeed.
It can easily be guessed that Random's somewhat colorless personality would never attract Lucy Kendal, since the hues of her own character were deeper. For this reason she was drawn to Hope, who possessed that aggressive artistic temperament, where good and bad, are in violent contrast. Random took opinions from books, or from other people, and his mind, like a looking-glass, reflected whatever came along; but Hope possessed opinions of his own, both right and wrong, and held to these in the face of all verbal opposition. He could argue and did argue, when Random simply agreed. Lucy had similar idiosyncrasies, inherited from a clever father, so it was just as well that she preferred Archie to Frank. Had the latter young gentleman married her, he would have dwindled to Lady Random's husband, and would have found too late that he had domesticated a kind of imitation George Eliot.
When he congratulated Archie on his engagement somewhat ruefully, he little thought what an escape he had had.
But Professor Braddock, who did not belong to the gray tribe, knew nothing of this, as his Egyptological studies did not permit him time to argue on such commonplace matters. He therefore failed in advance when he set out to persuade Random into renewing his suit. As the fiery little man afterwards expressed himself, "I might as well have talked to a mollusc," for Random politely declined to be used as an instrument to forward the Professor's ambition at the cost of Miss Kendal's unhappiness.
The interview took place in Sir Frank's quarters at the Fort on the day after Hervey had called to propose a search for the corpse. And it was during this interview that Braddock learned something which both startled and annoyed him.
Random, at three o'clock, had just changed into mufti, when the Professor was announced by his servant. Braddock, determined to give his host no chance of denying himself, followed close on the man's heels, and was in the room almost before Sir Frank had read the card. It was a bare room, sparsely furnished, according to the War Office's idea of comfort, and although the baronet had added a few more civilized necessities, it still looked somewhat dismal. Braddock, who liked comfort, shook hands carelessly with his host and cast a disapproving eye on his surroundings.
"Dog kennel! dog kennel!" grumbled the polite Professor. "Bare desolation like a damned dungeon. You might as well live in the Sahara.""It would certainly be warmer," replied Random, who knew the scientist's snappy ways very well. "Take a chair, sir!""Hard as bricks, confound it!" Hand me over a cushion. There, that's better! No, I never drink between meals, thank you.
Smoke? Hang it, Random, you should know by this time that Idislike ****** a chimney of my throat! There! there! don't fuss.
Take a seat and listen to what I have to say. It's important.
Poke the fire, please: it's cold."
Random placidly did as he was told, and then lighted a cigar, as he sat down quietly.
"I am sorry to hear of your trouble, sir.'"
"Trouble! trouble! What particular trouble?""The death of your assistant."
"Oh yes. Silly young ass to get killed. Lost my mummy, too: there's trouble if you like."
"The green mummy." Random looked into the fire, "Yes. I have heard of the green mummy.""I should think you have," snapped Braddock, warming his plump hands. "Every penny-a-liner has been talking about it. When did you return?""On the same day that that steamer with the mummy on board arrived," was Random's odd reply.
The Professor stared suspiciously. "I don't see why you should date your movements by my mummy," he retorted.
"Well, I had a reason in doing so."
"What reason?"
"The mummy - "
