"They'll find out the value of that woman now," said Dr Bolter to
himself; "and if I haven't done wisely in marrying her, I'm a Dutchman!
Why, it's the very thing! Here am I, Henry Bolter, a duly qualified
medical man, physician and surgeon in one, ready to afford bodily
relief; and here is Mary Bolter, my wife--fine sound about that," he
said, smiling with satisfaction--"my wife--my little wife--no, my wife
is best; it sounds more dignified--my wife, ready to afford mental
relief wherever it is needed; and here she is."
For just then the quick, pattering step of the little lady was heard,
and, reticule on arm, she came in bustling, hot, and red-faced.
"Well, my little woman, how are you getting on?" he said cheerily, as he
placed his arm round the buxom little waist, and led her to an
easy-chair, proceeding afterwards, with all a youth's tenderness, to
take off her broad hat and light scarf, which he carefully laid down for
fear of being called to account.
"Oh, don't ask me, Henry," she sighed. "My heart is nearly broken with
trouble, and I am doing no good at all."
"Ahem!" ejaculated the doctor, taking her hand and feeling the pulse.
"Don't be foolish, Henry, dear," she exclaimed.
"Foolish? No, my dear, certainly not. Hum! Hah! Much fever and
exhaustion. Recipe vin Xeres, cochleare magnum. Brisk osculation after
the medicine."
"What?" exclaimed Mrs Bolter.
"You are suffering from weariness and exhaustion, my dear," said the
little doctor; "and I have prescribed for you a drop of sherry, and
something to take after it."
"Not sugar, Henry? and really I would rather not have the wine."
"Doctor's orders, my dear. There," he said, pouring the sherry into a
tumbler, and filling it up with cold water, "I have made it as
refreshing as I could."
Mrs Bolter drank off the draught, and made a wry face, holding out her
hand.
"Where is the stuff for me to take afterwards?"
"There, my dear," said the doctor, kissing her very tenderly.
"For shame, Henry!" she cried, blushing like a girl. "Suppose anyone
had seen you?"
"Well, it would have been like his or her impudence to look; and if it
had been talked about afterwards, really, Mary, my dear, I have grown to
be such a hardened sinner over that sort of thing that I shouldn't care
a bit."
"Really, Henry," said the little lady, "anyone would think you were a
boy, instead of being a middle-aged man."
"I feel quite a boy," he said, merrily. "At least, I should if we were
not in such trouble."
"And we are, Henry, indeed," said the little lady, sadly. "I'm afraid
I'm neglecting you terribly, my dear; but I am obliged to try and help
that poor man, who is completely prostrate; and if it was not for the
help Grey Stuart gives me, I'm sure I should break down. Have you any
news?"
"Not a scrap, my dear. Have you?"
"None whatever. But now really, Henry, what do you think of the
matter?"
"'Pon my word, my dear, I don't know what to think."
"Don't say you believe they have had a boat accident, dear. I cannot
bear to think it possible."
"No, my dear, I don't, and I cannot believe it," he replied. "Here is
the case: For there to have been a boat accident, Helen, Arthur, Hilton,
and Chumbley must have taken a boat, and they must have all gone in
together."
"Or Hilton may have been trying to carry Helen away, and Chumbley and
Arthur, who is as brave as a lion in such matters, may have been trying
to stop them, or pursued them in a second boat."
"And a struggle ensued, and the boats upset, eh?"
"Yes, dear," said Mrs Bolter, with a shudder. "Oh, why did you bring
us out here, Henry, for such horrors to happen?"
"I did not know that these horrors had happened, my dear," said the
doctor, drily. "Let's see first if the boat theory holds water. I
don't believe it does."
"Then you think Murad is at the bottom of it?" she said, sharply.
"I'm for and against," he replied. "Let's wait and see. I don't
believe, however, that they are dead."
"Oh, no--oh, no!" said Mrs Bolter, shuddering. "I cannot believe that.
I'm afraid it's all due, in some way, to Helen's folly."
"Yes, my dear," said the doctor, "and it has quite upset my intended
journey in search of the true Ophir."
"And that's your folly. Oh, Henry, how much happier I should be if you
would give up that weakness of yours."
"Sorry I can't, Mary. It's an old weakness that increases with age.
Don't be angry with me, my dear."
"I am not angry, Henry; only you do worry me when you will keep talking
about Solomon's ships coming here for gold."
"If they'd come here for gold, and you had been living at the time, they
would have carried you off, for you are richer than refined--"
"Now, Henry, I will not sit here and listen to such outrageous flattery
of a very ordinary little woman," said the lady, looking angry, but
feeling pleased. "You must be a very weak man to have taken a fancy to
me."
"Let me be weak then, my dear," said the little doctor.
"Hush!" exclaimed the lady. "Here is Grey Stuart at the gate;" and they
listened to the click of the Chinese-made bamboo latch, and directly
after, looking thin and pale, Helen's schoolfellow was admitted.
She did not speak, but looked at Mrs Bolter in a weary, dejected
manner, that made the little lady take her in her arms, kiss her
tenderly, and then place her beside her upon the couch.
"Never despair, my dear," she said, cheerily. "There's always room for
hope."
"That is what I have been trying to think for days past," sighed Grey;
"but the trouble only seems to grow darker."
"Don't say that, my dear," exclaimed Mrs Bolter. "For my part, I will
not believe the story of the boat accident; and I have always this
consolation--that wherever that foolish girl may be, she has my brother
by her side."
Mrs Bolter felt her cheeks burn a little as she said this; for in her
heart of hearts she had not the faith in her brother's prudence and
ability to protect a lady that she professed.
She glanced at the doctor, and her face became a little hotter, for he
too was watching her, and she felt that he was reading her thoughts.
"I will try and be as hopeful as you are, dear Mrs Bolter; but it is
very hard!"
"Bless the child! I did not think she felt so warm an affection for
Helen Perowne," thought Mrs Bolter; "but it shows how good a heart she
has."
Then aloud:
"Oh, how tiresome! Here is that dreadful Mrs Barlow coming!"
"Say I'm out, my dear," whispered the doctor, hurriedly. "I'll slip
round through the surgery."
"I cannot say you are out, Henry," said the little lady, reprovingly;
"but I will say that you are particularly engaged."
"Yes, my dear--an operation," whispered the doctor.
"I shall say nothing of the kind, Harry!" exclaimed Mrs Bolter,
sternly.
"But she will want to see me, and describe her symptoms."
"Then she cannot see you," replied the little lady, with dignity. "I
will take care of that."
Dr Bolter stepped out by one door, and he had hardly closed it after
him, when Mrs Barlow entered by the other.
"Ah, my dear Mrs Bolter," she sobbed, kissing her in spite of a strong
objection evinced by the little lady. "Ah, my dear Miss Stuart, these
are terrible times."
She paused, as if expecting one of those she addressed to speak; but
save for acknowledging her salutation, they remained silent. "Have you
heard the last news?"
"No," replied Mrs Bolter, quickly. "Quick! what is it?"
"A couple of boatmen have come in just now with some more relics of our
missing party."
"What relics?" cried Mrs Bolter, as Grey turned deadly pale.
"They have found some scraps of clothing, I believe, and a hat," said
the lady.
"Where? Where are they?" cried Dr Bolter, coming in hurriedly, for he
had been waiting by the door in the not very creditable position of an
eavesdropper.
"Oh, doctor, how you startled me! I wanted to see you?" exclaimed Mrs
Barlow. "I fear I am going to have a bad attack of illness!"
Dr Bolter was saved from a bad attack of Mrs Barlow's symptoms,
described to him at full length, by the opportune arrival of Harley.
"Here, Bolter, I want you," he said, hastily; and making his excuses for
having to leave, the doctor hurried out and joined Mr Harley in the
garden.
"You have had something brought in," said the doctor, hastily. "Where
is it?"
"Down by the landing-stage. Perowne has got up from his bed to come and
see, and Stuart, Murad, and others are down there inspecting them."
The doctor accompanied the Resident to the landing-stage, where, in the
midst of a little group, lay some wet and torn rags and a sodden hat,
muddied and out of shape; while, squatting hard by the foul garments,
were a couple of Malay fishermen, who had found the scraps and other
articles amongst the mangrove-roots miles away.
Dr Bolter threw off his coat and rolled up his sleeves to go down on
one knee by the muddy bank, while with contracted eyes and puckered brow
the young Rajah looked on.
"What do you make of them, doctor?" said the Resident, hoarsely.
"Lady's silk dress that has not been taken off, but dragged from its
hooks, and ripped and torn away. It seems to have been rolled over and
over in the tide till it became fastened on to some snag."
A shudder ran through the little party, and the doctor continued his
examination.
"Hat," he said, turning it over. "Dreadfully battered and soaked; but
it is Chumbley's, I think."
"What is that?" said Mr Harley, in a low voice.
"Coat," said the doctor. "Gentleman's; and this is a small white tie."
"Here is a handkerchief," said old Stuart, picking up what looked to be
a mere wisp.
This the doctor took and rinsed in the clear river, starting back on the
instant, and only just in time for, attracted by the motion of the white
handkerchief in the water, a small crocodile of some six feet long
partially threw itself out of the stream; but falling short of its prey,
the reptile shuffled back and was gone.
No one spoke; but the presence of these creatures in such abundance,
combined with their daring, whispered plainly enough to the party
assembled what must be the fate of one who was thrown out into the
stream.
The doctor took a step or two back, and then, as coolly as if nothing
had occurred, he shook out the folds of the handkerchief--one of a very
delicate texture and edged with lace, while in one corner were the two
letters, "H.P.," embroidered by a woman's hand.
There was a deep groan here, and as the gentlemen turned, it was to see
that Murad was resting his face upon a bamboo fence, his hands to his
brow, and, turned from them as he was, the lookers-on could see that his
breast was heaving, and that the young man was suffering great agony of
mind.
"Collect all these together," said the doctor in a whisper; and one of
the soldiers proceeded to obey his orders, when the young Malay leaped
upon him fiercely, and tore the handkerchief from his grasp, thrust it
into his bosom, and strode away.
The Resident did not move, but stood gazing after the Sultan, his brows
contracted, and a peculiar look of dislike gathering in his eyes; but he
did not speak, and without a word the various relics were gathered into
a basket and carried across to the Residency island, where Dr Bolter
announced that he would make a further and more searching examination.
Then the party separated, save that the doctor and Neil Harley had a
long conversation together, in which the latter related how thoroughly
the river banks had now been searched by the boats enlisted to carry the
soldiers, who were most energetically aided by the people belonging to
Rajah Murad and the Inche Maida, both of whom continued to almost live
at the station, only going away for a few hours at a time to see to
their own affairs, journeys from which they came back, with the rowers
of the small boats they used looking terribly distressed.
"You can trust me, Harley," said the doctor. "I will not chatter, even
to my wife, though she is to be trusted, too. How do you feel about the
matter now?"
"Feel!" said Neil Harley, quietly. "I feel that little Miss Stuart was
right in what she said to me."
"And what was that?"
"That this is a contest between the wits of the Eastern and the
European; that we are being deceived; and that Sultan Murad is playing a
part."
"What, after the miserable relics we have just seen?"
"After the miserable relics we have just seen. He has slaves who would
die in his service, and who would consider it a merit to deceive the
heathen English."
"Then he is playing his part marvellously well," said the doctor.
"Magnificently; and if Miss Stuart is right, as I believe she is, for
the simple reason that her ideas accord with mine, he is a born actor.
That show of grief, and that seizure of the pocket-handkerchief were
admirably done."
"If you believe all this, then," said the doctor, "why not boldly charge
him with the crime!"
"To create a little war, with no better reason than my suspicions? A
charge made in face of the most earnest work--while he is striving might
and main to serve us."
"Apparently," said the doctor.
"Yes, apparently. But you see my position. Here are our two friendly
natives both offended, but professing forgiveness, and working for us.
I cannot charge them on bare suspicion. I must have some proof."
"Then why not search land as well as river?"
"How?" said the Resident. "Be reasonable, Bolter. You know as well as
I do that the rivers and streams are almost the only roads here. To
penetrate elsewhere is to cut your way through the dense jungle. Say I
determine to offend the Prince and Princess, and take soldiers, saying I
mean to search their little towns, what good would that do?"
"None, certainly," said the doctor. "They would not leave their
prisoners there if they are prisoners."
"You doubt, then?"
"I doubt, and I don't doubt. I am not a diplomat, Harley. This is out
of my line. If you have a pain, and give me your symptoms, I'll tell
you what causes that pain. I can cut you anywhere without injuring an
important artery, nerve, or vein; and I can extract bullets, cure
fevers, mend broken bones. I can also classify most of the natural
history objects of our district; but over a job like this we have in
hand I am at sea. Try Mrs Bolter or Grey Stuart--they will counsel you
better than I. Tell me, though, are you going to do anything?"
"Yes. In confidence, I do not trust either Murad or the Inche Maida.
This may all be some deeply-laid plot of both to obtain revenge; perhaps
to begin ousting us from this place, where we are looked upon with
jealousy."
"Yes, very likely; but what are you going to do?"
"Meet Eastern cunning with Eastern cunning. I am about to employ some
people from lower down the river who are now seeking alliance with us,
seeing how well it pays."
"What, as spies?"
"Yes," said the Resident, quietly. "I do not believe in the present
theory of the disappearance, so I shall try these people. If Murad is
playing us false, why then--"
"Well, why don't you finish?"
"I fear," said the Resident, fiercely, "that I shall go farther than to
exact stern justice for this act; for when a man's feelings are touched
as mine are now--"
He did not finish, but turned sharply away, as if all this was more than
he could bear.
That night the doctor whispered to his wife to keep her counsel, and not
to fret about those who were lost, for Neil Harley was deeply moved; and
if something startling did not come out of it before many days were
past, he, Dr Bolter, was no man.