The Mummy

5. Coward Conscience

5

Coward Conscience

From Dene Court, which I left fantastically obscured by wreaths of morning mist, through which I saw the hatchment over the porch, and the flag drooping damp and dull at half-mast), to Piccadilly I thought of nothing except the silent passenger upon the roof, racking my brains to imagine if there was any possible connection between the two sudden deaths, one in the Albany and one in Sussex. I never had a more unpleasant journey.

When we reached my rooms I decided these points as far as possible for myself, without consulting the astonished chauffeur. Probably Mudge, who was standing on the kerb, waiting to take my bag, has been too long with me to show or to feel astonishment at anything. I climbed to the level of the car-roof and examined its burden. Yes—to all appearance this was the mummy-case which I had seen a fortnight before. I had noticed a large dark stain on it, about the size of a dinner-plate—and here was the stain.

I could not very well stay to examine the thing carefully. Its shape was too suggestive to the passer-by, and my own position was conspicuous. I only settled one more point before getting down. I looked for an address, and found it:

PROFESSOR MAUNDEVILLE,

21, Courtenay Street, W.

Over my coffee and a cigar at night I tackled the affair again. Here is a summary of my thoughts:

Within a fortnight I had been called upon to certify two sudden deaths. Both had occurred apparently without witnesses. Those concerned were both young men, bachelors, well-to-do, of good social position. In the first case the death seemed accidental, and the cause of the accident seemed obvious. In the second case it had been foreshadowed as possible under certain conditions, namely over-exertion and fatigue. These conditions had apparently been present.

Both cases, so far, might occur in any man’s practice, but certainly not with the coincidence that was left to be accounted for.

In each instance there was a mummy in the house (more accurately a mummy-case, for I knew nothing about the contents). Moreover, it was apparently the same mummy-case.

Further, whereas in the first instance I had been fetched apparently because I was near by, and already known to one of those present, in the second I had several hours’ journey to make, and went where I was an absolute stranger.

I decided to know as quickly as possible whether the two dead men had been acquainted, or had had mutual acquaintances. I rang the bell.

“Where’s Seymour?” I asked Mudge.

“Gone to a music-hall, sir, to get rid of the ’orrors.” “What horrors, Mudge?” asked I.

“Dunno, sir. ’E seems scared of something, and says ’e won’t sleep alone in the Albany at any price.”

“Well, keep him here when he comes back,” I said, “but don’t disturb me. I don’t want to see either of you to-night. More coffee!” and then I was left to myself.

Personally I cannot concentrate my mind without unlimited coffee and cigars; and sometimes I cannot concentrate it at all.

That night I got nothing for my vigil except an attack of biliousness, and a certainty that I must interview the men connected with my Albany experience— Perceval and Maxwell. Yes, I also reached the unpleasant conclusion that if I hadn’t been a conceited humbug I shouldn’t have left Dene Court directly I saw that mummy on the car, and should at least have returned and torn up that death certificate, refusing to sign any without further investigation. I had a miserable night.

It was the early morning when I fell asleep, and in consequence ate a late breakfast in a shocking temper.

I was in the middle of it when the front-door bell rang. “If it’s anyone to see me,” I said to Mudge, “I’m engaged and shall be all day. I won’t see anyone but Seymour. If it’s a patient, tell him there’s a younger and better man at the bottom of the street.” Nevertheless Mudge returned in two or three minutes, and said that two gentlemen had insisted that they must see me, and were waiting in the lobby.

“Must!” I said. “How much did they give you?” and Mudge was so worried that he mentioned half a sovereign before he knew what he was about. I told him to return the tip and show them the door.

“They’re gentlemen, sir,” said Mudge. “One’s an officer.”

“Tell your officer what your orders are; I’m engaged,” shouted I. Mudge saluted stiffly, went out, and returned.

“Gentlemen say they must see you, sir.”

“Must”—again! I was much annoyed. Merely because a poor fool has studied medicine, may he never have peace? I thumped the table, and of course was angry with myself for doing so.

I beckoned Mudge to come nearer, and he came and waited until I felt that I could speak coolly and slowly. I spoke very softly and deliberately, so as not to say anything unreasonable. I whispered to Mudge that what I paid him for was to obey orders, and to keep people out just as much as to let them in. I pointed out to him that I was not the “slave of the ring.” That, theoretically, this was a free country, and that if I chose to tell him to turn away fifty officers of the regulars he must do it. I was going on to say with some emphasis—Mudge needs things to be put clearly—that I would see these patients condemned before I allowed them to interrupt my deliberations, when I saw that I hadn’t his undivided attention. His eyes wandered to the mirror over the mantelpiece a little behind my chair, and to my left, and he began to grin weakly and idiotically. I twisted in my chair, and found that the two patients were standing just inside the door, and that they were Maxwell and Perceval. I was an ass not to have guessed that it might be they; but I was altogether absorbed in my puzzle.

For a moment no one said anything, and I sat staring at them. Then the situation struck me as being rather comic, and I began to laugh, while my two visitors remained perfectly solemn.

So I merely told Mudge to give them chairs, and to obey orders if anyone else came. Then I sat back and waited for them to explain themselves.