“I climb down and apologize,” he said to Don Pedro, who bowed gravely.
“Hang you, sir; you might have shot my daughter,” cried Braddock. “The drawing-room, where she is sitting, is right overhead, and-”
As he spoke the door opened, and Lucy came in on Archie's arm. She was pale with fright, but had sustained no damage. It seemed that the revolver bullet had passed through the floor some distance away from where she was sitting.
“I offer my humble apologies, miss,” said the cowed Hervey.
“I'll break your neck, you ruffian!” growled Hope, who looked, and was, dangerous. “How dare you shoot here and—”
“It's all right,” interposed Lucy, not wishing for further trouble. “I am all safe. But I shall remain here for the rest of your interview, Captain Hervey, as I am sure you will not shoot again in the presence of a lady.”
“No, miss,” muttered the captain, and when again invited by the angry Professor to speak, resumed his discourse in low tones. “Wal, as I was saying,” he remarked, sitting down with a dogged look, “Bolton intended to clear with the emeralds, but I guess Sir Frank got ahead of him and packed him in that blamed case, while he annexed the emeralds. He then took the manuscript, which he looted from Bolton's corpse, and hid it among his books, as you say, while he left the blamed mummy in the garden of the old lady you talked about. I guess that's what I say.”
“It's all theory,” said Don Pedro in vexed tones.
“And there isn't a word of truth in it,” said Lucy indignantly, standing up for Frank Random.