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A BID FOR FORTUNE
DR. NIKOLA'S VENDETTA
By GUY BOOTHBY
Author of "Dr. Nikola," "The Beautiful White Devil," etc., etc.
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED
LONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO
1918
[Illustration: "Again she turned her face from me."]
CONTENTS.
Part I.
PROLOGUE--Dr. Nikola
CHAPTER I. I determine to take a Holiday,--Sydney, and what Befel me
there
CHAPTER II. London
CHAPTER III. I Visit my Relations
CHAPTER IV. I Save an Important Life
CHAPTER V. Mystery
CHAPTER VI. I Meet Dr. Nikola again
CHAPTER VII. Port Said, and what Befel us there
CHAPTER VIII. Our Imprisonment and Attempt at Escape
CHAPTER IX. Dr. Nikola permits us a Free Passage
Part II.
CHAPTER I. We reach Australia, and the Result
CHAPTER II. On the Trail
CHAPTER III. Lord Beckenham's Story
CHAPTER IV. Following up a Clue
CHAPTER V. The Islands, and what we found there
CHAPTER VI. Conclusion
A BID FOR FORTUNE
_PART I_
PROLOGUE
DR. NIKOLA
The manager of the new Imperial Restaurant on the Thames Embankment went
into his luxurious private office and shut the door. Having done so, he
first scratched his chin reflectively, and then took a letter from the
drawer in which it had reposed for more than two months and perused it
carefully. Though he was not aware of it, this was the thirtieth time he
had read it since breakfast that morning. And yet he was not a whit
nearer understanding it than he had been at the beginning. He turned it
over and scrutinized the back, where not a sign of writing was to be
seen; he held it up to the window, as if he might hope to discover
something from the water-mark; but there was nothing in either of these
places of a nature calculated to set his troubled mind at rest. Then he
took a magnificent repeater watch from his waistcoat pocket and glanced
at the dial; the hands stood at half-past seven. He immediately threw
the letter on the table, and as he did so his anxiety found relief in
words.
"It's really the most extraordinary affair I ever had to do with," he
remarked. "And as I've been in the business just three-and-thirty years
at eleven a.m. next Monday morning, I ought to know something about it.
I only hope I've done right, that's all."
As he spoke, the chief bookkeeper, who had the treble advantage of being
tall, pretty, and just eight-and-twenty years of age, entered the room.
She noticed the open letter and the look upon her chief's face, and her
curiosity was proportionately excited.
"You seem worried, Mr. McPherson," she said tenderly, as she put down
the papers she had brought in for his signature.
"You have just hit it, Miss O'Sullivan," he answered, pushing them
farther on to the table. "I am worried about many things, but
particularly about this letter."
He handed the epistle to her, and she, being desirous of impressing him
with her business capabilities, read it with ostentatious care. But it
was noticeable that when she reached the signature she too turned back
to the beginning, and then deliberately read it over again. The manager
rose, crossed to the mantelpiece, and rang for the head waiter. Having
relieved his feelings in this way, he seated himself again at his
writing-table, put on his glasses, and stared at his companion, while
waiting for her to speak.
"It's very funny," she said. "Very funny indeed!"
"It's the most extraordinary communication I have ever received," he
replied with conviction. "You see it is written from Cuyaba, Brazil. The
date is three months ago to a day. Now I have taken the trouble to find
out where and what Cuyaba is."
He made this confession with an air of conscious pride, and having done
so, laid himself back in his chair, stuck his thumbs into the armholes
of his waistcoat, and looked at his fair subordinate for approval. Nor
was he destined to be disappointed. He was a bachelor in possession of a
snug income, and she, besides being pretty, was a lady with a keen eye
to the main chance.
"And where _is_ Cuyaba?" she asked humbly.
"Cuyaba," he replied, rolling his tongue with considerable relish round
his unconscious mispronunciation of the name, "is a town almost on the
western or Bolivian border of Brazil. It is of moderate size, is
situated on the banks of the river Cuyaba, and is considerably connected
with the famous Brazilian Diamond Fields."
"And does the writer of this letter live there?"
"I cannot say. He writes from there--that is enough for us."
"And he orders dinner for four--here, in a private room overlooking the
river, three months ahead--punctually at eight o'clock, gives you a list
of the things he wants, and even arranges the decoration of the table.
Says he has never seen either of his three friends before; that one of
them hails from (here she consulted the letter again) Hang-chow, another
from Bloemfontein, while the third resides, at present, in England. Each
one is to present an ordinary visiting card with a red dot on it to the
porter in the hall, and to be shown to the room at once. I don't
understand it at all."
The manager paused for a moment, and then said deliberately,--"Hang-chow
is in China, Bloemfontein is in South Africa."
"What a wonderful man you are, to be sure, Mr. McPherson! I never can
_think_ how you manage to carry so much in your head."
There spoke the true woman. And it was a move in the right direction,
for the manager was susceptible to her gentle influence, as she had
occasion to know.
At this juncture the head waiter appeared upon the scene, and took up a
position just inside the doorway, as if he were afraid of injuring the
carpet by coming farther.
"Is No. 22 ready, Williams?"
"Quite ready, sir. The wine is on the ice, and cook tells me he'll be
ready to dish punctual to the moment."
"The letter says, 'no electric light; candles with red shades.' Have you
put on those shades I got this morning?"
"Just seen it done this very minute, sir."
"And let me see, there was one other thing." He took the letter from the
chief bookkeeper's hand and glanced at it. "Ah, yes, a porcelain saucer,
and a small jug of new milk upon the mantelpiece. An extraordinary
request, but has it been attended to?"
"I put it there myself, sir."
"Who wait?"
"Jones, Edmunds, Brooks, and Tomkins."
"Very good. Then I think that will do. Stay! You had better tell the
hall porter to look out for three gentlemen presenting plain visiting
cards with a little red spot on them. Let Brooks wait in the hall, and
when they arrive tell him to show them straight up to the room."
"It shall be done, sir."
The head waiter left the room, and the manager stretched himself in his
chair, yawned by way of showing his importance, and then said
solemnly,--
"I don't believe they'll any of them turn up; but if they do, this Dr.
Nikola, whoever he may be, won't be able to find fault with my
arrangements."
Then, leaving the dusty high road of Business, he and his companion
wandered in the shady bridle-paths of Love--to the end that when the
chief bookkeeper returned to her own department she had forgotten the
strange dinner party about to take place upstairs, and was busily
engaged upon a calculation as to how she would look in white satin and
orange blossoms, and, that settled, fell to wondering whether it was
true, as Miss Joyce, a subordinate, had been heard to declare, that the
manager had once shown himself partial to a certain widow with reputed
savings and a share in an extensive egg and dairy business.
At ten minutes to eight precisely a hansom drew up at the steps of the
hotel. As soon as it stopped, an undersized gentleman, with a clean
shaven countenance, a canonical corporation, and bow legs, dressed in a
decidedly clerical garb, alighted. He paid and discharged his cabman,
and then took from his ticket pocket an ordinary white visiting card,
which he presented to the gold-laced individual who had opened the
apron. The latter, having noted the red spot, called a waiter, and the
reverend gentleman was immediately escorted upstairs.
Hardly had the attendant time to return to his station in the hall,
before a second cab made its appearance, closely followed by a third.
Out of the second jumped a tall, active, well-built man of about thirty
years of age. He was dressed in evening dress of the latest fashion, and
to conceal it from the vulgar gaze, wore a large Inverness cape of heavy
texture. He also in his turn handed a white card to the porter, and,
having done so, proceeded into the hall, followed by the occupant of the
last cab, who had closely copied his example. This individual was also
in evening dress, but it was of a different stamp. It was old-fashioned
and had seen much use. The wearer, too, was taller than the ordinary run
of men, while it was noticeable that his hair was snow-white, and that
his face was deeply pitted with smallpox. After disposing of their hats
and coats in an ante-room, they reached room No. 22, where they found
the gentleman in clerical costume pacing impatiently up and down.
Left alone, the tallest of the trio, who for want of a better title we
may call the Best Dressed Man, took out his watch, and having glanced at
it, looked at his companions. "Gentlemen," he said, with a slight
American accent, "it is three minutes to eight o'clock. My name is
Eastover!"
"I'm glad to hear it, for I'm most uncommonly hungry," said the next
tallest, whom I have already described as being so marked by disease.
"My name is Prendergast!"
"We only wait for our friend and host," remarked the clerical gentleman,
as if he felt he ought to take a share in the conversation, and then, as
an afterthought, he continued, "My name is Baxter!"
They shook hands all round with marked cordiality, seated themselves
again, and took it in turns to examine the clock.
"Have you ever had the pleasure of meeting our host before?" asked Mr.
Baxter of Mr. Prendergast.
"Never," replied that gentleman, with a shake of his head. "Perhaps Mr.
Eastover has been more fortunate?"
"Not I," was the brief rejoinder. "I've had to do with him off and on
for longer than I care to reckon, but I've never set eyes on him up to
date."
"And where may he have been the first time you heard from him?"
"In Nashville, Tennessee," said Eastover. "After that, Tahupapa, New
Zealand; after that, Papeete, in the Society Islands; then Pekin, China.
And you?"
"First time, Brussels; second, Monte Video; third, Mandalay, and then
the Gold Coast, Africa. It's your turn, Mr. Baxter."
The clergyman glanced at the timepiece. It was exactly eight o'clock.
"First time, Cabul, Afghanistan; second, Nijni Novgorod, Russia; third,
Wilcannia, Darling River, Australia; fourth, Valparaiso, Chili; fifth,
Nagasaki, Japan."
"He is evidently a great traveller and a most mysterious person."
"He is more than that," said Eastover with conviction; "he is late for
dinner!"
Prendergast looked at his watch.
"That clock is two minutes fast. Hark, there goes Big Ben! Eight
exactly."
As he spoke the door was thrown open and a voice announced "Dr. Nikola."
The three men sprang to their feet simultaneously, with exclamations of
astonishment, as the man they had been discussing made his appearance.
It would take more time than I can spare the subject to give you an
adequate and inclusive description of the person who entered the room at
that moment. In stature he was slightly above the ordinary, his
shoulders were broad, his limbs perfectly shaped and plainly muscular,
but very slim. His head, which was magnificently set upon his shoulders,
was adorned with a profusion of glossy black hair; his face was
destitute of beard or moustache, and was of oval shape and handsome
moulding; while his skin was of a dark olive hue, a colour which
harmonized well with his piercing black eyes and pearly teeth. His hands
and feet were small, and the greatest dandy must have admitted that he
was irreproachably dressed, with a neatness that bordered on the
puritanical. In age he might have been anything from eight-and-twenty to
forty; in reality he was thirty-three. He advanced into the room and
walked with out-stretched hand directly across to where Eastover was
standing by the fireplace.
"Mr. Eastover, I feel certain," he said, fixing his glittering eyes upon
the man he addressed, and allowing a curious smile to play upon his
face.
"That is my name, Dr. Nikola," the other answered with evident surprise.
"But how on earth can you distinguish me from your other guests?"
"Ah! it would surprise you if you knew. And Mr. Prendergast, and Mr.
Baxter. This is delightful; I hope I am not late. We had a collision in
the Channel this morning, and I was almost afraid I might not be up to
time. Dinner seems ready; shall we sit down to it?" They seated
themselves, and the meal commenced. The Imperial Restaurant has earned
an enviable reputation for doing things well, and the dinner that night
did not in any way detract from its lustre. But, delightful as it all
was, it was noticeable that the three guests paid more attention to
their host than to his excellent _menu_. As they had said before his
arrival, they had all had dealings with him for several years, but what
those dealings were they were careful not to describe. It was more than
possible that they hardly liked to remember them themselves.
When coffee had been served and the servants had withdrawn, Dr. Nikola
rose from the table, and went across to the massive sideboard. On it
stood a basket of very curious shape and workmanship. This he opened,
and as he did so, to the astonishment of his guests, an enormous cat, as
black as his master's coat, leaped out on to the floor. The reason for
the saucer and jug of milk became evident.
Seating himself at the table again, the host followed the example of his
guests and lit a cigar, blowing a cloud of smoke luxuriously through his
delicately chiselled nostrils. His eyes wandered round the cornice of
the room, took in the pictures and decorations, and then came down to
meet the faces of his companions. As they did so, the black cat, having
finished its meal, sprang on to his shoulder to crouch there, watching
the three men through the curling smoke drift with its green blinking,
fiendish eyes. Dr. Nikola smiled as he noticed the effect the animal had
upon his guests.
"Now shall we get to business?" he said briskly.
The others almost simultaneously knocked the ashes off their cigars and
brought themselves to attention. Dr. Nikola's dainty, languid manner
seemed to drop from him like a cloak, his eyes brightened, and his
voice, when he spoke, was clean cut as chiselled silver.
"You are doubtless anxious to be informed why I summoned you from all
parts of the globe to meet me here to-night? And it is very natural you
should be. But then, from what you know of me, you should not be
surprised at anything I do."
His voice dropped back into its old tone of gentle languor. He drew in a
great breath of smoke and then sent it slowly out from his lips again.
His eyes were half closed, and he drummed with one finger on the table
edge. The cat looked through the smoke at the three men, and it seemed
to them that he grew every moment larger and more ferocious. Presently
his owner took him from his perch, and seating him on his knee fell to
stroking his fur, from head to tail, with his long slim fingers. It was
as if he were drawing inspiration for some deadly mischief from the
uncanny beast.
"To preface what I have to say to you, let me tell you that this is by
far the most important business for which I have ever required your
help. (Three slow strokes down the centre of the back, and one round
each ear.) When it first came into my mind I was at a loss who to trust
in the matter. I thought of Vendon, but I found Vendon was dead. I
thought of Brownlow, but Brownlow was no longer faithful. (Two strokes
down the back and two on the throat.) Then bit by bit I remembered you.
I was in Brazil at the time. So I sent for you. You came. So far so
good."
He rose, and crossed over to the fireplace. As he went the cat crawled
back to its original position on his shoulder. Then his voice changed
once more to its former business-like tone.
"I am not going to tell you very much about it. But from what I do tell
you, you will be able to gather a great deal and imagine the rest. To
begin with, there is a man living in this world to-day who has done me a
great and lasting injury. What that injury is is no concern of yours.
You would not understand if I told you. So we'll leave that out of the
question. He is immensely rich. His cheque for £300,000 would be
honoured by his bank at any minute. Obviously he is a power. He has had
reason to know that I am pitting my wits against his, and he flatters
himself that so far he has got the better of me. That is because I am
drawing him on. I am maturing a plan which will make him a poor and a
very miserable man at one and the same time. If that scheme succeeds,
and I am satisfied with the way you three men have performed the parts I
shall call on you to play in it, I shall pay to each of you the sum of
£10,000. If it doesn't succeed, then you will each receive a thousand
and your expenses. Do you follow me?"
It was evident from their faces that they hung upon his every word.
"But, remember, I demand from you your whole and entire labour. While
you are serving me you are mine body and soul. I know you are
trustworthy. I have had good proof that you are--pardon the
expression--unscrupulous, and I flatter myself you are silent. What is
more, I shall tell you nothing beyond what is necessary for the carrying
out of my scheme, so that you could not betray me if you would. Now for
my plans!"
He sat down again and took a paper from his pocket. Having perused it,
he turned to Eastover.
"You will leave at once--that is to say, by the boat on Wednesday--for
Sydney. You will book your passage to-morrow morning, first thing, and
join her in Plymouth. You will meet me to-morrow evening at an address I
will send you, and receive your final instructions. Good-night."
Seeing that he was expected to go, Eastover rose, shook hands, and left
the room without a word. He was too astonished to hesitate or to say
anything.
Nikola took another letter from his pocket and turned to Prendergast.
"_You_ will go down to Dover to-night, cross to Paris to-morrow morning,
and leave this letter personally at the address you will find written on
it. On Thursday, at half-past two precisely, you will deliver me an
answer in the porch at Charing Cross. You will find sufficient money in
that envelope to pay all your expenses. Now go!"
"At half-past two you shall have your answer. Good-night."
"Good-night."
When Prendergast had left the room, Dr. Nikola lit another cigar and
turned his attentions to Mr. Baxter.
"Six months ago, Mr. Baxter, I found for you a situation as tutor to the
young Marquis of Beckenham. You still hold it, I suppose?"
"I do."
"Is the father well disposed towards you?"
"In every way. I have done my best to ingratiate myself with him. That
was one of your instructions."
"Yes, yes! But I was not certain that you would succeed. If the old man
is anything like what he was when I last met him he must still be a
difficult person to deal with. Does the boy like you?"
"I hope so."
"Have you brought me his photograph as I directed?"
"I have. Here it is."
Baxter took a photograph from his pocket and handed it across the table.
"Good. You have done very well, Mr. Baxter. I am pleased with you.
To-morrow morning you will go back to Yorkshire----"
"I beg your pardon, Bournemouth. His Grace owns a house near
Bournemouth, which he occupies during the summer months."
"Very well--then to-morrow morning you will go back to Bournemouth and
continue to ingratiate yourself with father and son. You will also begin
to implant in the boy's mind a desire for travel. Don't let him become
aware that his desire has its source in you--but do not fail to foster
it all you can. I will communicate with you further in a day or two. Now
go."
Baxter in his turn left the room. The door closed. Dr. Nikola picked up
the photograph and studied it.
"The likeness is unmistakable--or it ought to be. My friend, my very
dear friend, Wetherell, my toils are closing on you. My arrangements are
perfecting themselves admirably. Presently, when all is complete, I
shall press the lever, the machinery will be set in motion, and you will
find yourself being slowly but surely ground into powder. Then you will
hand over what I want, and be sorry you thought fit to baulk Dr.
Nikola!"
He rang the bell and ordered his bill. This duty discharged, he placed
the cat back in its prison, shut the lid, descended with the basket to
the hall, and called a hansom. The porter inquired to what address he
should order the cabman to drive. Dr. Nikola did not reply for a moment,
then he said, as if he had been thinking something out: "The _Green
Sailor_ public-house, East India Dock Road."
CHAPTER I
I DETERMINE TO TAKE A HOLIDAY.--SYDNEY, AND WHAT BEFEL ME THERE
First and foremost, my name, age, description, and occupation, as they
say in the _Police Gazette_. Richard Hatteras, at your service, commonly
called Dick, of Thursday Island, North Queensland, pearler, copra
merchant, _bêche-de-mer_ and tortoiseshell dealer, and South Sea trader
generally. Eight-and-twenty years of age, neither particularly
good-looking nor, if some people are to be believed, particularly
amiable, six feet two in my stockings, and forty-six inches round the
chest; strong as a Hakodate wrestler, and perfectly willing at any
moment to pay ten pounds sterling to the man who can put me on my back.
And big shame to me if I were not so strong, considering the free,
open-air, devil-may-care life I've led. Why, I was doing man's work at
an age when most boys are wondering when they're going to be taken out
of knickerbockers. I'd been half round the world before I was fifteen,
and had been wrecked twice and marooned once before my beard showed
signs of sprouting. My father was an Englishman, not very much profit to
himself, so he used to say, but of a kindly disposition, and the best
husband to my mother, during their short married life, that any woman
could possibly have desired. She, poor soul, died of fever in the
Philippines the year I was born, and he went to the bottom in the
schooner _Helen of Troy_, a degree west of the Line Islands, within six
months of her decease; struck the tail end of a cyclone, it was thought,
and went down, lock, stock, and barrel, leaving only one man to tell the
tale. So I lost father and mother in the same twelve months, and that
being so, when I put my cabbage-tree on my head it covered, as far as I
knew, all my family in the world.
Any way you look at it, it's calculated to give you a turn; at fifteen
years of age, to know that there's not a living soul on the face of
God's globe that you can take by the hand and call relation. That old
saying about "blood being thicker than water" is a pretty true one, I
reckon: friends may be kind--they were so to me--but after all they're
not the same thing, nor can they be, as your own kith and kin.
However, I had to look my trouble in the face, and stand up to it as a
man should, and I suppose this kept me from brooding over my loss as
much as I should otherwise have done. At any rate, ten days after the
news reached me, I had shipped aboard the _Little Emily_, trading
schooner, for Papeete, booked for five years among the islands, where I
was to learn to water copra, to cook my balances, and to lay the
foundation of the strange adventures that I am going to tell you about.
After my time expired and I had served my Trading Company on half the
mudbanks of the Pacific, I returned to Australia and went up inside the
Great Barrier Reef to Somerset--the pearling station that had just come
into existence on Cape York. They were good days there then, before all
the new-fangled laws that now regulate the pearling trade had come into
force; days when a man could do almost as he liked among the islands in
those seas. I don't know how other folk liked it, but the life just
suited me--so much so that when Somerset proved inconvenient and the
settlement shifted across to Thursday, I went with it, and, what was
more to the point, with money enough at my back to fit myself out with a
brand-new lugger and full crew, so that I could go pearling on my own
account.
For many years I went at it head down, and this brings me up to four
years ago, when I was a grown man, the owner of a house, two luggers,
and as good a diving plant as any man could wish to possess. What was
more, just before this I had put some money into a mining concern on the
mainland, which had, contrary to most ventures of the sort, turned up
trumps, giving me as my share the nice round sum of £5,000. With all
this wealth at my back, and having been in harness for a greater number
of years on end than I cared to count, I made up my mind to take a
holiday and go home to England to see the place where my father was
born, and had lived his early life (I found the name of it written in
the fly-leaf of an old Latin book he left me), and to have a look at a
country I'd heard so much about, but never thought to set my foot upon.
Accordingly I packed my traps, let my house, sold my luggers and gear,
intending to buy new ones when I returned, said good-bye to my friends
and shipmates, and set off to join an Orient liner in Sydney. You will
see from this that I intended doing the thing in style! And why not? I'd
got more money to my hand to play with than most of the swells who
patronize the first saloon; I had earned it honestly, and was resolved
to enjoy myself with it to the top of my bent.
I reached Sydney a week before the boat was advertised to sail, but I
didn't fret much about that. There's plenty to see and do in such a big
place, and when a man's been shut away from theatres and amusements for
years at a stretch, he can put in his time pretty well looking about
him. All the same, not knowing a soul in the place, I must confess there
were moments when I did think regretfully of the little island hidden
away up north under the wing of New Guinea, of the luggers dancing to
the breeze in the harbour, and the warm welcome that always awaited me
among my friends in the saloons. Take my word for it, there's something
in even being a leader on a small island. Anyway, it's better than being
a deadbeat in a big city like Sydney, where nobody knows you, and your
next-door neighbour wouldn't miss you if he never saw or heard of you
again.
I used to think of these things as I marched about the streets looking
in at shop windows, or took excursions up and down the harbour. There's
no place like Sydney Harbour in the wide, wide world for beauty, and
before I'd been there a week I was familiar with every part of it.
Still, it would have been _more_ enjoyable, as I hinted just now, if I
had had a friend to tour about with me; and by the same token I'm doing
one man an injustice.
There was _one_ fellow, I remember, who did offer to show me round: I
fell across him in a saloon in George Street. He was tall and handsome,
and as spic and span as a new pin till you came to look under the
surface. When he entered the bar he winked at the girl who was serving
me, and as soon as I'd finished my drink asked me to take another with
him. Seeing what his little game was, and wanting to teach him a lesson,
I lured him on by consenting. I drank with him, and then he drank with
me.
"Been long in Sydney?" he inquired casually, as he stroked his fair
moustache.
"Just come in," was my reply.
"Don't you find it dull work going about alone?" he inquired. "I shall
never forget my first week of it."
"You're about right," I answered. "It is dull! I don't know a soul, bar
my banker and lawyer."
"Dear me!" (more curling of the moustache). "If I can be of any service
to you while you're here, I hope you'll command me. I believe we're both
Englishmen, eh?"
"It's very good of you," I replied modestly, affecting to be overcome by
his condescension. "I'm just off to lunch. I am staying at the _Quebec_.
Is it far enough for a hansom?" As he was about to answer, a lawyer,
with whom I had done a little business the day before, walked into the
room. I turned to my patronising friend and said, "Will you excuse me
for one moment? I want to speak to this gentleman."
He was still all graciousness.
"I'll call a hansom and wait for you in it."
When he had left the saloon I spoke to the new arrival. He had noticed
the man I had been talking to, and was kind enough to warn me against
him.
"That man," he said, "bears a very bad reputation. He makes it his trade
to meet new arrivals from England--weak-brained young pigeons with
money. He shows them round Sydney, and plucks them so clean that, when
they leave his hands, in nine cases out of ten, they haven't a feather
left to fly with. You ought not, with your experience of rough
customers, to be taken in by him."
"Nor am I," I replied. "I am going to teach him a lesson. Come with me."
Arm in arm we walked into the street, watched by Mr. Hawk from his seat
in the cab. When we got there we stood for a moment chatting, and then
strolled together down the pavement. Next moment I heard the cab coming
along after us, and my friend hailing me in his silkiest tones; but
though I looked him full in the face I pretended not to know him. Seeing
this he drove past us--pulled up a little farther down and sprang out to
wait for me.
"I was almost afraid I had missed you," he began, as we came up with
him. "Perhaps as it is such a fine day you would rather walk than ride?"
"I beg your pardon," I answered. "I'm really afraid you have the
advantage of me."
"But you have asked me to lunch with you at the _Quebec_. You told me to
call a hansom."
"Pardon me again! but you are really mistaken. I said I was going to
lunch at the _Quebec_, and asked you if it was far enough to be worth
while taking a hansom. That is your hansom, not mine. If you don't
require it any longer, I should advise you to pay the man and let him
go."
"You are a swindler, sir. I refuse to pay the cabman. It is your
hansom."
I took a step closer to my fine gentleman, and, looking him full in the
face, said as quietly as possible, for I didn't want all the street to
hear:
"Mr. _Dorunda_ Dodson, let this be a lesson to you. Perhaps you'll think
twice next time before you try your little games on me!"
He stepped back as if he had been shot, hesitated a moment, and then
jumped into his cab and drove off in the opposite direction. When he had
gone I looked at my astonished companion.
"Well, now," he ejaculated at last, "how on earth did you manage that?"
"Very easily," I replied. "I happened to remember having met that
gentleman up in our part of the world when he was in a very awkward
position--very awkward. By his action just now I should say that he has
not forgotten the circumstance any more than I have."
That was the first of the only two adventures of any importance I met
with during my stay in New South Wales. And there's not much in that, I
fancy I can hear you saying. Well, that may be so, I don't deny it, but
it was nevertheless through that that I became mixed up with the folk
who figure in this book, and indeed it was to that very circumstance,
and that alone, I owe my connection with the queer story I have set
myself to tell. And this is how it came about.
Three days before the steamer sailed, and about four o'clock in the
afternoon, I chanced to be walking down Castlereagh Street, wondering
what on earth I should do with myself until dinner-time, when I saw
approaching me the very man whose discomfiture I have just described.
Being probably occupied planning the plucking of some unfortunate new
chum, he did not see me. And as I had no desire to meet him again, after
what had passed between us, I crossed the road and meandered off in a
different direction, eventually finding myself located on a seat in the
Domain, lighting a cigarette and looking down over a broad expanse of
harbour.
One thought led to another, and so I sat on and on long after dusk had
fallen, never stirring until a circumstance occurred on a neighbouring
path that attracted my attention. A young and well-dressed lady was
pursuing her way in my direction, evidently intending to leave the park
by the entrance I had used to come into it. But unfortunately for her,
at the junction of two paths to my right, three of Sydney's typical
larrikins were engaged in earnest conversation. They had observed the
girl coming towards them, and were evidently preparing some plan for
accosting her. When she was only about fifty yards away, two of them
walked to a distance, leaving the third and biggest ruffian to waylay
her. He did so, but without success; she passed him and continued her
walk at increased speed.
The man thereupon quickened his pace, and, secure in the knowledge that
he was unobserved, again accosted her. Again she tried to escape him,
but this time he would not leave her. What was worse, his two friends
were now blocking the path in front. She looked to right and left, and
was evidently uncertain what to do. Then, seeing escape was hopeless,
she stopped, took out her purse, and gave it to the man who had first
spoken to her. Thinking this was going too far, I jumped up and went
quickly across the turf towards them. My footsteps made no sound on the
soft grass, and as they were too much occupied in examining what she had
given them, they did not notice my approach.
"You scoundrels!" I said, when I had come up with them. "What do you
mean by stopping this lady? Let her go instantly; and you, my friend,
just hand over that purse."
The man addressed looked at me as if he were taking my measure, and were
wondering what sort of chance he'd have against me in a fight. But I
suppose my height must have rather scared him, for he changed his tone
and began to whine.
"I haven't got the lady's purse, s'help me, I ain't! I was only a asking
of 'er the time!"
"Hand over that purse!" I said sternly, approaching a step nearer to
him.
One of the others here intervened,--"Let's stowch 'im, Dog! There ain't
a copper in sight!"
With that they began to close upon me. But, as the saying goes, "I'd
been there before." I'd not been knocking about the rough side of the
world for fifteen years without learning how to take care of myself.
When they had had about enough of it, which was most likely more than
they had bargained for, I took the purse and went to where the innocent
cause of it all was standing. She was looking very white and scared, but
she plucked up sufficient courage to thank me prettily.
I can see her now, standing there looking into my face with big tears in
her pretty blue eyes. She was a girl of about twenty-one or two years of
age--tall, but slenderly built, with a sweet oval face, bright brown
hair, and the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen in my life. She was
dressed in some dark green material, wore a fawn jacket, and, because
the afternoon was cold, had a boa of marten fur round her neck. I can
remember also that her hat was of some flimsy make, with lace and
glittering spear points in it, and that the whole structure was
surmounted by two bows, one of black ribbon, the other of salmon pink.
"Oh, how can I thank you?" she began, when I had come up with her. "But
for your appearance I don't know what those men might not have done to
me."
"I was very glad that I _was_ there to help you," I replied, looking
into her face with more admiration for its warm young beauty than
perhaps I ought to have shown. "Here is your purse. I hope you will find
its contents safe. At the same time will you let me give you a little
piece of advice. From what I have seen this afternoon this is evidently
not the sort of place for a young lady to be walking in alone and after
dark. I don't think I would risk it again if I were you."
She looked at me for a moment and then said:
"You are quite right. I have only myself to thank for my misfortune. I
met a friend and walked across the green with her; I was on my way back
to my carriage--which is waiting for me outside--when I met those men.
However, I can promise you that it will not happen again. I am leaving
Sydney in a day or two."
Somehow, when I heard that, I began to feel glad I was booked to leave
the place too. But of course I didn't tell her so.
"May I see you safely to your carriage?" I said at last. "Those fellows
may still be hanging about on the chance of overtaking you."
Her courage must have come back to her, for she looked up into my face
with a smile.
"I don't think they will be rude to me again, after the lesson you have
given them. But if you will walk with me I shall be very grateful."
Side by side we proceeded down the path, through the gates and out into
the street. A neat brougham was drawn up alongside the kerb, and towards
this she made her way. I opened the door and held it for her to get in.
But before she did so she turned to me and stretched out her little
hand.
"Will you tell me your name, that I may know to whom I am indebted?"
"My name is Hatteras. Richard Hatteras, of Thursday Island, Torres
Straits. I am staying at the _Quebec_."
"Thank you, Mr. Hatteras, again and again. I shall always be grateful to
you for your gallantry!"
This was attaching too much importance to such a simple action, and I
was about to tell her so, when she spoke again: "I think I ought to let
you know who I am. My name is Wetherell, and my father is the Colonial
Secretary. I'm sure he will be quite as grateful to you as I am.
Good-bye."
She seemed to forget that we had already shaken hands, for she extended
her own a second time. I took it and tried to say something polite, but
she stepped into her carriage and shut the door before I could think of
anything, and next moment she was being whirled away up the street.
Now old fogies and disappointed spinsters can say what they please about
love at first sight. I'm not a romantic sort of person--far from it--the
sort of life I had hitherto led was not of a nature calculated to foster
a belief in that sort of thing. But if I wasn't over head and ears in
love when I resumed my walk that evening, well, I've never known what
the passion is.
A daintier, prettier, sweeter little angel surely never walked the earth
than the girl I had just been permitted the opportunity of rescuing, and
from that moment forward I found my thoughts constantly reverting to
her. I seemed to retain the soft pressure of her fingers in mine for
hours afterwards, and as a proof of the perturbed state of my feelings I
may add that I congratulated myself warmly on having worn that day my
new and fashionable Sydney suit, instead of the garments in which I had
travelled down from Torres Straits, and which I had hitherto considered
quite good enough for even high days and holidays. That she herself
would remember me for more than an hour never struck me as being likely.
Next morning I donned my best suit again, gave myself an extra brush up,
and sauntered down town to see if I could run across her in the streets.
What reason I had for thinking I should is more than I can tell you, but
at any rate I was not destined to be disappointed. Crossing George
Street a carriage passed me, and in it sat the girl whose fair image had
exercised such an effect upon my mind. That she saw and recognized me
was evidenced by the gracious bow and smile with which she favoured me.
Then she passed out of sight, and it was a wonder that that minute
didn't see the end of my career, for I stood like one in a dream looking
in the direction in which she had gone, and it was not until two carts
and a brewer's wagon had nearly run me down that I realized it would be
safer for me to pursue my meditations on the side walk.
I got back to my hotel by lunch-time, and during the progress of that
meal a brilliant idea struck me. Supposing I plucked up courage and
called? Why not? It would be only a polite action to inquire if she were
any the worse for her fright. The thought was no sooner born in my brain
than I was eager to be off. But it was too early for such a formal
business, so I had to cool my heels in the hall for an hour. Then,
hailing a hansom and inquiring the direction of their residence, I drove
off to Potts Point. The house was the last in the street--an imposing
mansion standing in well-laid-out grounds. The butler answered my ring,
and in response to my inquiry dashed my hopes to the ground by informing
me that Miss Wetherell was out.
"She's very busy, you see, at present, sir. She and the master leave for
England on Friday in the _Orizaba_."
"What!" I cried, almost forgetting myself in my astonishment. "You don't
mean to say that Miss Wetherell goes to England in the _Orizaba_?"
"I do, sir. And I do hear she's goin' 'ome to be presented at Court,
sir!"
"Ah! Thank you. Will you give her my card, and say that I hope she is
none the worse for her fright last evening?"
He took the card, and a substantial tip with it, and I went back to my
cab in the seventh heaven of delight. I was to be shipmates with this
lovely creature! For four weeks or more I should be able to see her
every day! It seemed almost too good to be true. Instinctively I began
to make all sorts of plans and preparations. Who knew but what--but
stay, we must bring ourselves up here with a round turn, or we shall be
anticipating what's to come.
To make a long story short--for it must be remembered that what I am
telling you is only the prelude to all the extraordinary things that
will have to be told later on--the day of sailing came. I went down to
the boat on the morning of her departure, and got my baggage safely
stowed away in my cabin before the rush set in.
About three o'clock we hove our anchor and steamed slowly down the Bay.
I had been below when the Wetherells arrived on board, so the young lady
had not yet become aware of my presence. Whether she would betray any
astonishment when she did find out was beyond my power to tell; at any
rate, I know that I was by a long way the happiest man aboard the boat
that day. However, I was not to be kept long in suspense. Before we had
reached the Heads it was all settled, and satisfactorily so. I was
standing on the promenade deck, just abaft the main saloon entrance,
watching the panorama spread out before me, when I heard a voice I
recognized only too well say behind me:
"Good-bye to you, dear old Sydney. Great things will have happened when
I set eyes on you again."
Little did she know how prophetic were her words. As she spoke I turned
and confronted her. For a moment she was overwhelmed with surprise,
then, stretching out her hand, she said:
"Really, Mr. Hatteras, this is most wonderful. You are the last person I
expected to meet on board."
"And perhaps," I replied, "I might with justice say the same of you."
She turned to a tall, white-bearded man beside her.
"Papa, I must introduce you to Mr. Hatteras. You will remember I told
you how kind Mr. Hatteras was when those larrikins were rude to me in
the Domain."
"I am sincerely obliged to you, Mr. Hatteras," he said, holding out his
hand and shaking mine heartily. "My daughter did tell me, and I called
yesterday at your hotel to thank you personally, but you were
unfortunately not at home. Are you visiting Europe?"
"Yes; I'm going home for a short visit to see the place where my father
was born."
"Are you then, like myself, an Australian native? I mean, of course, as
you know, colonial born?" asked Miss Wetherell with a little laugh. The
idea of her calling herself an Australian native in any other sense! The
very notion seemed preposterous.
"I was born at sea, a degree and a half south of Mauritius," I answered;
"so I don't know what you would call me. I hope you have comfortable
cabins?"
"Very. We have made two or three voyages in this boat before, and we
always take the same places. And now, papa, we must really go and see
where poor Miss Thompson is. We are beginning to feel the swell, and
she'll be wanting to go below. Good-bye for the present."
I raised my cap and watched her walk away down the deck, balancing
herself as if she had been accustomed to a heaving plank all her life.
Then I turned to watch the fast receding shore, and to my own thoughts,
which were none of the saddest, I can assure you. For it must be
confessed here--and why should I deny it?--that I was in love from the
soles of my deck shoes to the cap upon my head. But as to the chance,
that I, a humble pearler, would stand with one of Sydney's most
beautiful daughters--why, that's another matter, and one that, for the
present, I was anxious to keep behind me.
Within the week we had left Adelaide behind us, and four days later
Albany was also a thing of the past. By the time we had cleared the
Lewin we had all settled down to our life aboard ship, the bad sailors
were beginning to appear on deck again, and the medium voyagers to make
various excuses for their absences from meals. One thing was evident,
that Miss Wetherell was the belle of the ship. Everybody paid her
attention, from the skipper down to the humblest deck hand. And this
being so, I prudently kept out of the way, for I had no desire to be
thought to presume on our previous acquaintance. Whether she noticed
this I cannot tell, but at any rate her manner to me when we _did_ speak
was more cordial than I had any right or reason to expect it would be.
Seeing this, there were not wanting people on board who scoffed and
sneered at the idea of the Colonial Secretary's daughter noticing so
humble a person as myself, and when it became known what my exact social
position was, I promise you these malicious whisperings did not cease.
One evening, two or three days after we had left Colombo behind us, I
was standing at the rails on the promenade deck a little abaft the
smoking-room entrance, when Miss Wetherell came up and took her place
beside me. She looked very dainty and sweet in her evening dress, and I
felt, if I had known her better, I should have liked to tell her so.
"Mr. Hatteras," said she, when we had discussed the weather and the
sunset, "I have been thinking lately that you desire to avoid me."
"Heaven forbid! Miss Wetherell," I hastened to reply. "What on earth put
such a notion into your head?"
"All the same I believe it to be true. Now, why do you do it?"
"I have not admitted that I do do it. But, perhaps, if I do seem to deny
myself the pleasure of being with you as much as some other people I
could mention, it is only because I fail to see what possible enjoyment
you can derive from my society."
"That is a very pretty speech," she answered, smiling, "but it does not
tell me what I want to know."
"And what is it that you want to know, my dear young lady?"
"I want to know why you are so much changed towards me. At first we got
on splendidly--you used to tell me of your life in Torres Straits, of
your trading ventures in the Southern Seas, and even of your hopes for
the future. Now, however, all that is changed. It is, 'Good-morning,
Miss Wetherell,' 'Good-evening, Miss Wetherell,' and that is all. I must
own I don't like such treatment."
"I must crave your pardon--but----"
"No, we won't have any 'buts.' If you want to be forgiven, you must come
and talk to me as you used to do. You will like the rest of the people
I'm sure when you get to know them. They are very kind to me."
"And you think I shall like them for that reason?"
"No, no. How silly you are. But I do so want you to be friendly."
After that there was nothing for it but for me to push myself into a
circle where I had the best reasons for knowing that I was not wanted.
However, it had its good side: I saw more of Miss Wetherell; so much
more indeed that I began to notice that her father did not quite approve
of it. But, whatever he may have thought, he said nothing to me on the
subject.
A fortnight or so later we were at Aden, leaving that barren rock about
four o'clock, and entering the Red Sea the same evening. The Suez Canal
passed through, and Port Said behind us, we were in the Mediterranean,
and for the first time in my life I stood in Europe.
At Naples the Wetherells were to say good-bye to the boat, and continue
the rest of their journey home across the Continent. As the hour of
separation approached, I must confess I began to dread it more and more.
And somehow, I fancy, _she_ was not quite as happy as she used to be.
You will probably ask what grounds I had for believing that a girl like
Miss Wetherell would take any interest in a man like myself; and it is a
question I can no more answer than I can fly. And yet, when I came to
think it all out, I was not without my hopes.
We were to reach port the following morning. The night was very still,
the water almost unruffled. Somehow it came about that Miss Wetherell
and I found ourselves together in the same sheltered spot where she had
spoken to me on the occasion referred to before. The stars in the east
were paling, preparatory to the rising of the moon. I glanced at my
companion as she leant against the rails scanning the quiet sea, and
noticed the sweet wistfulness of her expression. Then, suddenly, a great
desire came over me to tell her of my love. Surely, even if she could
not return it, there would be no harm in letting her know how I felt
towards her. For this reason I drew a little closer to her.
"And so. Miss Wetherell," I said, "to-morrow we are to say good-bye;
never, perhaps, to meet again."
"Oh, no, Mr. Hatteras," she answered, "we won't say that. Surely we
shall see something of each other somewhere. The world is very tiny
after all."
"To those who desire to avoid each other, perhaps, but for those who
wish to _find_ it is still too large."
"Well, then, we must hope for the best. Who knows but that we may run
across each other in London. I think it is very probable."
"And will that meeting be altogether distasteful to you?" I asked, quite
expecting that she would answer with her usual frankness. But to my
surprise she did not speak, only turned half away from me. Had I
offended her?
"Miss Wetherell, pray forgive my rudeness," I said hastily. "I ought to
have known I had no right to ask you such a question."
"And why shouldn't you?" she replied, this time turning her sweet face
towards me. "No, I will tell you frankly, I should very much like to see
you again."
With that all the blood in my body seemed to rush to my head. Could I be
dreaming? Or had she really said she would like to see me again? I would
try my luck now whatever came of it.
"You cannot think how pleasant our intercourse has been to me," I said.
"And now I have to go back to my lonely, miserable existence again."
"But you should not say that; you have your work in life!"
"Yes, but what is that to me when I have no one to work for? Can you
conceive anything more awful than my loneliness? Remember, as far as I
know I am absolutely without kith and kin. There is not a single soul to
care for me in the whole world--not one to whom my death would be a
matter of the least concern."
"Oh, don't--don't say that!" Her voice faltered so that I turned from
the sea and contemplated her.
"It is true, Miss Wetherell, bitterly true."
"It is not true. It cannot be true!"
"If only I could think it would be some little matter of concern to you
I should go back to my work with a happier heart."
Again she turned her face from me. My arm lay beside hers upon the
bulwarks, and I could feel that she was trembling. Brutal though it may
seem to say so, this gave me fresh courage. I said slowly, bending my
face a little towards her:
"Would it affect you, Phyllis?"
One little hand fell from the bulwarks to her side, and I took
possession of it. She did not appear to have heard my question, so I
repeated it. Then her head went down upon the bulwarks, but not before I
had caught the whispered "yes" that escaped her lips.
Before she could guess what was going to happen, I had taken her in my
arms and smothered her face with kisses. Nor did she offer any
resistance. I knew the whole truth now. She was mine, she loved
me--me--me--me! The whole world seemed to re-echo the news, the very sea
to ring with it, and just as I learned from her own dear lips the story
of her love, the great moon rose as if to listen. Can you imagine my
happiness, my delight? She was mine, this lovely girl, my very own!
bound to me by all the bonds of love. Oh, happy hour! Oh, sweet delight!
I pressed her to my heart again and again. She looked into my face and
then away from me, her sweet eyes suffused with tears, then suddenly her
expression changed. I turned to see what ailed her, and to my
discomfiture discovered her father stalking along the silent deck
towards us.
Whispering to her to leave us, she sped away, and I was left alone with
her angry parent. That he _was_ angry I judged from his face; nor was I
wrong in my conjecture.
"Mr. Hatteras," he said severely, "pray what does this mean? How is it
that I find you in this undignified position with my daughter?"
"Mr. Wetherell," I answered, "I can see that an explanation is due to
you. Just before you came up I was courageous enough to tell your
daughter that I loved her. She has been generous enough to inform me
that she returns my affection. And now the best course for me to pursue
is to ask your permission to make her my wife."
"You presume, sir, upon the service you rendered my daughter in Sydney.
I did not think you would follow it up in this fashion."
"Your daughter is free to love whom she pleases, I take it," I said, my
temper getting a little the better of my judgment. "She has been good
enough to promise to marry me--if I can obtain your permission. Have you
any objection to raise?"
"Only one, and that one is insuperable! Understand me, I forbid it once
and for all! In every particular--without hope of change--I forbid it!"
"As you must see it is a matter which affects the happiness of two
lives, I feel sure you will be good enough to tell me your reasons?"
"I must decline any discussion on the matter at all. You have my answer,
I forbid it!"
"This is to be final, then? I am to understand that you are not to be
brought to change your mind by any actions of mine?"
"No, sir, I am not! What I have said is irrevocable. The idea is not to
be thought of for a moment. And while I am on this subject let me tell
you that your conduct towards my daughter on board this ship has been
very distasteful to me. I have the honour to wish you a very
good-evening."
"Stay, Mr. Wetherell," I said, as he turned to go. "You have been kind
enough to favour me with your views. Now I will give you mine. Your
daughter loves me. I am an honest and an industrious man, and I love her
with my whole heart and soul. I tell you now, and though you decline to
treat me with proper fairness, I give you warning that I intend to marry
her if she will still have me--with your consent or without it!"
"You are insolent, sir."
"I assure you I have no desire to be. I endeavour to remember that you
are her father, though I must own you lack her sense of what is fair and
right."
"I will not discuss the question any further with you. You know my
absolute decision. Good-night!"
With anger and happiness struggling in my breast for the mastery, I
paced that deck for hours. My heart swelled with joy at the knowledge
that my darling loved me, but it sank like lead when I considered the
difficulties which threatened us if her father persisted in his present
determination. At last, just as eight bells was striking (twelve
o'clock), I went below to my cabin. My fellow-passenger was fast
asleep--a fact which I was grateful for when I discovered propped
against my bottle-rack a tiny envelope with my name upon it. Tearing it
open I read the following:--
"MY OWN DEAREST,--
"My father has just informed me of his interview with you. I cannot
understand it or ascribe a reason for it. But whatever happens,
remember that I will be your wife, and the wife of no other.
"May God bless and keep you always.
"Your own,
"PHYLLIS.
"P.S.--Before we leave the ship you must let me know your address
in London."
With such a letter under my pillow, can it be doubted that my dreams
were good? Little I guessed the accumulation of troubles to which this
little unpleasantness with Mr. Wetherell was destined to be the prelude!