“Then you are descended from this Inca?” said Mrs. Jasher eagerly.
“I am. Had I my rights I should rule Peru. As it is, I am a poor gentleman with very little money. That,” added Don Pedro with emphasis, “is why I wish to recover the mummy of my great ancestor.”
“Is it then so valuable?” asked Archie suddenly. He was thinking of some reason why the mummy should have been stolen.
“Well, in itself it is of no great value, save to an archaeologist,” was Don Pedro's reply; “but I had better tell you the story of how it was stolen from my father.”
“Go on, go on,” cried Mrs. Jasher. “This is most interesting.”
Don Pedro plunged into his story without further preamble.
“Inca Caxas held his state amidst the solitudes of the Andes, away from the cruel men who had conquered his country. He died and was buried. This manuscript,”—he touched his pocket—“was written by his son, and details the ceremonies, the place of sepulchre, and also gives a list of the jewels with which the mummy was buried.”
“Jewels,” murmured Hope under his breath. “I thought as much.”
“The son of Inca Caxas married a Spanish lady and made peace with the Spaniards. He came to live at Cuzco, and brought with him, for some purpose which the manuscript does not disclose, the mummy of his father. But the manuscript was lost for years, and although my family—the De Gayangoses—became poor, no member of it knew that, concealed in the corpse of Inca Caxas, were two large emeralds of immense value. The mummy of our royal ancestor was treated as a sacred thing and venerated accordingly. Afterwards my family came to live at Lima, and I still dwell in the old house.”
“But how was the mummy stolen from you?” asked Random curiously.