MYSTERY
The following morning I was sitting in my room at the hotel idly
scanning the _Standard_, and wondering in what way I should employ
myself until the time arrived for me to board the yacht, when I heard a
carriage roll up to the door. On looking out I discovered a gorgeous
landau, drawn by a pair of fine thoroughbreds, and resplendent with much
gilded and crested harness, standing before the steps. A footman had
already opened the door, and I was at the window just in time to see a
tall, soldierly man alight from it. To my astonishment, two minutes
later a waiter entered my room and announced "His Grace the Duke of
Glenbarth." It was the owner of the carriage and the father of my young
friend, if by such a title I might designate the Marquis of Beckenham.
"Mr. Hatteras, I presume?" said he.
"Yes, that is my name. I am honoured by your visit. Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you."
He paused for a moment, and then continued:
"Mr. Hatteras, I have to offer you an apology. I should have called upon
you yesterday to express the gratitude I feel to you for having saved
the life of my son, but I was unavoidably prevented."
"I beg you will not mention it," I said. "His lordship thanked me
sufficiently himself. And after all, when you look at it, it was not
very much to do. I would, however, venture one little suggestion. Is it
wise to let him swim so far unaccompanied by a boat? The same thing
might happen to him on another occasion, and no one be near enough to
render him any assistance."
"He will not attempt so much again. He has learned a lesson from this
experience. And now, Mr. Hatteras, I trust you will forgive what I am
about to say. My son has told me that you have just arrived in England
from Australia. Is there any way I can be of service to you? If there
is, and you will acquaint me with it, you will be conferring a great
favour upon me."
"I thank your Grace," I replied--I hope with some little touch of
dignity--"it is very kind of you, but I could not think of such a thing.
But, stay, there is one service, perhaps you _could_ do me."
"I am delighted to hear it, sir. And what may it be?"
"Your son's tutor, Mr. Baxter! His face is strangely familiar to me. I
have seen him somewhere before, but I cannot recall where. Could you
tell me anything of his history?"
"Very little, I fear, save that he seems a worthy and painstaking man,
an excellent scholar, and very capable in his management of young men. I
received excellent references with him, but of his past history I know
very little. I believe, however, that he was a missionary in the South
Seas for some time, and that he was afterwards for many years in India.
I'm sorry I cannot tell you more about him since you are interested in
him."
"I've met him somewhere, I'm certain. His face haunts me. But to return
to your son--I hope he is none the worse for his adventure?"
"Not at all, thank you. Owing to the system I have adopted in his
education, the lad is seldom ailing."
"Pardon my introducing the subject. But do you think it is quite wise to
keep a youth so ignorant of the world? I am perhaps rather presumptuous,
but I cannot help feeling that such a fine young fellow would be all the
better for a few companions."
"You hit me on rather a tender spot, Mr. Hatteras. But, as you have been
frank with me, I will be frank with you. I am one of those strange
beings who govern their lives by theories. I was brought up by my
father, I must tell you, in a fashion totally different from that I am
employing with my son. I feel now that I was allowed a dangerous amount
of license. And what was the result? I mixed with every one, was
pampered and flattered far beyond what was good for me, derived a false
notion of my own importance, and when I came to man's estate was, to all
intents and purposes, quite unprepared and unfitted to undertake the
duties and responsibilities of my position.
"Fortunately I had the wit to see where the fault lay, and there and
then I resolved that if ever I were blessed with a son, I would conduct
his education on far different lines. My boy has not met a dozen
strangers in his life. His education has been my tenderest care. His
position, his duties towards his fellow-men, the responsibilities of his
rank, have always been kept rigorously before him. He has been brought
up to understand that to be a Duke is not to be a titled nonentity or a
pampered _roué_, but to be one whom Providence has blessed with an
opportunity of benefiting and watching over the welfare of those less
fortunate than himself in the world's good gifts.
"He has no exaggerated idea of his own importance; a humbler lad, I feel
justified in saying, you would nowhere find. He has been educated
thoroughly, and he has all the best traditions of his race kept
continually before his eyes. But you must not imagine, Mr. Hatteras,
that because he has not mixed with the world he is ignorant of its
temptations. He may not have come into personal contact with them, but
he has been warned against their insidious influences, and I shall trust
to his personal pride and good instincts to help him to withstand them
when he has to encounter them himself. Now, what do you think of my plan
for making a nobleman?"
"A very good one, with such a youth as your son, I should think, your
Grace; but I would like to make one more suggestion, if you would allow
me?"
"And that is?"
"That you should let him travel before he settles down. Choose some fit
person to accompany him. Let him have introductions to good people
abroad, and let him use them; then he will derive different impressions
from different countries, view men and women from different standpoints,
and enter gradually into the great world and station which he is some
day to adorn."
"I had thought of that myself, and his tutor has lately spoken to me a
good deal upon the subject. I must own it is an idea that commends
itself strongly to me. I will think it over. And now, sir, I must wish
you good-day. You will not let me thank you, as I should have wished,
for the service you have rendered my house, but, believe me, I am none
the less grateful. By the way, your name is not a common one. May I ask
if you have any relatives in this county?"
"Only one at present, I fancy--my father's brother, Sir William
Hatteras, of Murdlestone, in the New Forest."
"Ah! I never met him. I knew his brother James very well in my younger
days. But he got into sad trouble, poor fellow, and was obliged to fly
the country."
"You are speaking of my father. You knew him?"
"Knew him? indeed, I did. And a better fellow never stepped; but, like
most of us in those days, too wild--much too wild! And so you are
James's son? Well, well! This is indeed a strange coincidence. But, dear
me, I am forgetting; I must beg your pardon for speaking so candidly of
your father."
"No offence, I'm sure."
"And pray tell me where my old friend is now?"
"Dead, your Grace! He was drowned at sea."
The worthy old gentleman seemed really distressed at this news. He shook
his head, and I heard him murmur: "Poor Jim! Poor Jim!"
Then, turning to me again, he took my hand.
"This makes our bond a doubly strong one. You must let me see more of
you! How long do you propose remaining in England?"
"Not very much longer, I fear. I am already beginning to hunger for the
South again."
"Well, you must not go before you have paid us a visit. Remember we
shall always be pleased to see you. You know our house, I think, on the
cliff. Good-day, sir, good-day."
So saying, the old gentleman accompanied me downstairs to his carriage,
and, shaking me warmly by the hand, departed. Again I had cause to
ponder on the strangeness of the fate that had led me to
Hampshire--first to the village where my father was born, and then to
Bournemouth, where by saving this young man's life I had made a firm
friend of a man who again had known my father. By such small
coincidences are the currents of our lives diverted.
That same afternoon, while tacking slowly down the bay, I met the
Marquis. He was pulling himself in a small skiff, and when he saw me he
made haste to come alongside and hitch on. At first I wondered whether
it would not be against his father's wishes that he should enter into
conversation with such a worldly person as myself. But he evidently saw
what was passing in my mind, and banished all doubts by saying:
"I have been on the look-out for you, Mr. Hatteras. My father has given
me permission to cultivate your acquaintance, if you will allow me."
"I shall be very pleased," I answered. "Won't you come aboard and have a
chat? I'm not going out of the bay this afternoon."
He clambered over the side and seated himself in the well, clear of the
boom, as nice-looking and pleasant a young fellow as any man could wish
to set eyes on.
"You can't imagine how I've been thinking over all you told me the other
day," he began when we were fairly on our way. "I want you to tell me
more about Australia and the life you lead out there, if you will."
"I'll tell you all I can with pleasure," I answered. "But you ought to
go and see the places and things for yourself. That's better than any
telling. I wish I could take you up and carry you off with me now; away
down to where you can make out the green islands peeping out of the
water to port and starboard, like bits of the Garden of Eden gone astray
and floated out to sea. I'd like you to smell the breezes that come off
from them towards evening, to hear the 'trades' whistling overhead, and
the thunder of the surf upon the reef. Or at another time to get inside
that selfsame reef and look down through the still, transparent water,
at the rainbow-coloured fish dashing among the coral boulders, in and
out of the most beautiful fairy grottos the brain of man can conceive."
"Oh, it must be lovely! And to think that I may live my life and never
see these wonders. Please go on; what else can you tell me?"
"What more do you want to hear? There is the pick of every sort of life
for you out there. Would you know what real excitement is? Then I shall
take you to a new gold rush. To begin with, you must imagine yourself
setting off for the field, with your trusty mate marching step by step
beside you, pick and shovel on your shoulders, and both resolved to make
your fortunes in the twinkling of an eye. When you get there, there's
the digger crowd, composed of every nationality. There's the warden and
his staff, the police officers, the shanty keepers, the blacks, and
dogs.
"There's the tented valley stretching away to right and left of you,
with the constant roar of sluice boxes and cradles, the creak of
windlasses, and the perpetual noise of human voices. There's the
excitement of pegging out your claim and sinking your first shaft,
wondering all the time whether it will turn up trumps or nothing.
There's the honest, manly labour from dawn to dusk. And then, when
daylight fails, and the lamps begin to sparkle over the field, songs
drift up the hillside from the drinking shanties in the valley, and you
and your mate weigh up your day's returns, and, having done so, turn
into your blankets to dream of the monster nugget you intend to find
upon the morrow. Isn't that real life for you?"
He did not answer, but there was a sparkle in his eyes which told me I
was understood.
"Then if you want other sorts of enterprise, there is Thursday Island,
where I hail from, with its extraordinary people. Let us suppose
ourselves wandering down the Front at nightfall, past the Kanaka
billiard saloons and the Chinese stores, into, say, the _Hotel of All
Nations_. Who is that handsome, dark, mysterious fellow, smoking a
cigarette and idly flirting with the pretty bar girl? _You_ don't know
him, but I do! There's indeed a history for you. You didn't notice,
perhaps, that rakish schooner that came to anchor in the bay early in
the forenoon. What lines she had! Well, that was his craft. To-morrow
she'll be gone, it is whispered, to try for pearl in prohibited Dutch
waters. Can't you imagine her slinking round the islands, watching for
the patrolling gunboat, and ready, directly she has passed, to slip into
the bay, skim it of its shell, and put to sea again. Sometimes they're
chased."
"What then?"
"Well, a clean pair of heels or trouble with the authorities, and
possibly a year in a Dutch prison before you're brought to trial! Or
would you do a pearling trip in less exciting but more honest fashion?
Would you ship aboard a lugger with five good companions, and go
a-cruising down the New Guinea coast, working hard all day long, and
lying out on deck at night, smoking and listening to the lip-lap of the
water against the counter, or spinning yarns of all the world?"
"What else?"
"Why, what more do you want? Do you hanker after a cruise aboard a
stinking _bêche-de-mer_ boat inside the Barrier Reef, or a run with the
sandalwood cutters or tortoiseshell gatherers to New Guinea; or do you
want to go ashore again and try an overlanding trip half across the
continent, riding behind your cattle all day long, and standing your
watch at night under dripping boughs, your teeth chattering in your
head, waiting for the bulls to break, while every moment you expect to
hear the Bunyip calling in that lonely water-hole beyond the fringe of
Mulga scrub?"
"You make me almost mad with longing."
"And yet, somehow, it doesn't seem so fine when you're at it. It's when
you come to look back upon it all from a distance of twelve thousand
miles that you feel its real charm. Then it calls to you to return in
every rustle of the leaves ashore, in the blue of the sky above, in the
ripple of the waves upon the beach. And it eats into your heart, so that
you begin to think you will never be happy till you're back in the old
tumultuous devil-may-care existence again."
"What a life you've led! And how much more to be envied it seems than
the dull monotony of our existence here in sleepy old England."
"Don't you believe it. If you wanted to change I could tell you of
dozens of men, living exactly the sort of life I've described, who would
only too willingly oblige you. No, no! Believe me, you've got chances of
doing things we could never dream of. Do them, then, and let the other
go. But all the same, I think you ought to see more of the world I've
told you of before you settle down. In fact, I hinted as much to your
father only yesterday."
"He said that you had spoken of it to him. Oh, how I wish he would let
me go!"
"Somehow, d'you know, I think he will."
I put the cutter over on another tack, and we went crashing back through
the blue water towards the pier. The strains of the band came faintly
off to us. I had enjoyed my sail, for I had taken a great fancy to this
bright young fellow sitting by my side. I felt I should like to have
finished the education his father had so gallantly begun. There was
something irresistibly attractive about him, so modest, so unassuming,
and yet so straightforward and gentlemanly.
Dropping him opposite the bathing machines, I went on to my own
anchorage on the other side of the pier. Then I pulled myself ashore and
went up to the town. I had forgotten to write an important letter that
morning, and as it was essential that the business should be attended to
at once, to repair my carelessness, I crossed the public gardens and
went through the gardens to the post office to send a telegram.
I must tell you here that since my meeting with Mr. Baxter, the young
Marquis's tutor, I had been thinking a great deal about him, and the
more I thought the more certain I became that we had met before. To tell
the truth, a great distrust of the man was upon me. It was one of those
peculiar antipathies that no one can explain. I did not like his face,
and I felt sure that he did not boast any too much love for me.
As my thoughts were still occupied with him, my astonishment may be
imagined, on arriving at the building, at meeting him face to face upon
the steps. He seemed much put out at seeing me, and hummed and hawed
over his "Good-afternoon" for all the world as if I had caught him in
the middle of some guilty action.
Returning his salutation, I entered the building and looked about me for
a desk at which to write my wire. There was only one vacant, and I
noticed that the pencil suspended on the string was still swinging to
and fro as it had been dropped. Now Baxter had only just left the
building, so there could be no possible doubt that it was he who had
last used the stand. I pulled the form towards me and prepared to write.
But as I did so I noticed that the previous writer had pressed so hard
upon his pencil that he had left the exact impression of his message
plainly visible upon the pad. It ran as follows:
"LETTER RECEIVED. YOU OMMITTED REVEREDN. THE TRAIN IS LAID, BUT A
NEW ELEMENT OF DANGER HAS ARISEN."
It was addressed to "Nikola, _Green Sailor Hotel_, East India Dock Road,
London," and was signed "Nineveh."
The message was so curious that I looked at it again, and the longer I
looked the more certain I became that Baxter was the sender. Partly
because its wording interested me, and partly for another reason which
will become apparent later on, I inked the message over, tore it from
the pad, and placed it carefully in my pocket-book. One thing at least
was certain, and that was, if Baxter _were_ the sender, there was
something underhand going on. If he were not, well, then there could be
no possible harm in my keeping the form as a little souvenir of a rather
curious experience.
I wrote my own message, and having paid for it left the office. But I
was not destined to have the society of my own thoughts for long. Hardly
had I reached the Invalids' Walk before I felt my arm touched. To my
supreme astonishment I found myself again confronted by Mr. Baxter. He
was now perfectly calm and greeted me with extraordinary civility.
"Mr. Hatteras, I believe," he said. "I think I had the pleasure of
meeting you on the sands a few days ago. What a beautiful day it is,
isn't it? Are you proceeding this way? Yes? Then perhaps I may be
permitted the honour of walking a short distance with you."
"With pleasure," I replied. "I am going up the cliff to my hotel, and I
shall be glad of your company. I think we met in the telegraph office
just now."
"In the post office, I think. I had occasion to go in there to register
a letter."
His speech struck me as remarkable. My observation was so trivial that
it hardly needed an answer, and yet not only did he vouchsafe me one,
but he corrected my statement and volunteered a further one on his own
account. What reason could he have for wanting to make me understand
that he had gone in there to post a letter? What would it have mattered
to me if he _had_ been there, as I suggested, to send a telegram?
"Mr. Baxter," I thought to myself, "I've got a sort of conviction that
you're not the man you pretend to be, and what's more I'd like to bet a
shilling to a halfpenny that, if the truth were only known, you're our
mysterious friend Nineveh."
We walked for some distance in silence. Presently my companion began to
talk again--this time, however, in a new strain, and perhaps with a
little more caution.
"You have been a great traveller, I understand."
"A fairly great one, Mr. Baxter. You also, I am told, have seen
something of the world."
"A little--very little."
"The South Seas, I believe. D'you know Papeete?"
"I have been there."
"D'you know New Guinea at all?"
"No. I was never near it. I am better acquainted with the Far
East--China, Japan, etc."
Suddenly something, I shall never be able to tell what, prompted me to
say:
"And the Andamans?"
The effect on my companion was as sudden as it was extraordinary. For a
moment he staggered on the path like a drunken man; his face grew ashen
pale, and he had to give utterance to a hoarse choking sound before he
could get out a word. Then he said:
"No--no--you are quite mistaken, I assure you. I never knew the
Andamans."
Now, on the Andamans, as all the world knows, are located the Indian
penal establishments, and noting his behaviour, I became more and more
convinced in my own mind that there was some mystery about Mr. Baxter
that had yet to be explained. I had still a trump card to play.
"I'm afraid you are not very well, Mr. Baxter," I said at length.
"Perhaps the heat is too much for you, or we are walking too fast? This
is my hotel. Won't you come inside and take a glass of wine or something
to revive you?"
He nodded his head eagerly. Large drops of perspiration stood on his
forehead, and I saw that he was quite unstrung. "I am not well--not at
all well."
As soon as we reached the smoking-room I rang for two brandies and
sodas. When they arrived he drank his off almost at a gulp, and in a few
seconds was pretty well himself again.
"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Hatteras," he said. "I think we must
have walked up the hill a little too fast for my strength. Now, I must
be going back to the town. I find I have forgotten something."
Almost by instinct I guessed his errand. He was going to despatch
another telegram. Resolved to try the effect of one parting shot, I
said:
"Perhaps you do not happen to be going near the telegraph office again?
If you are, should I be taxing your kindness too much if I asked you to
leave a message there for me? I find _I_ have forgotten one."
He bowed and simply said: "With much pleasure."
He pronounced it "pleesure," and as he said it he licked his lips in his
usual self-satisfied fashion. I wondered how he would conduct himself
when he saw the message I was going to write.
Taking a form from a table near where I sat, I wrote the following:
"John Nicholson,
"_Langham Hotel_, London.
"The train is laid, but a new danger has arisen.
"HATTERAS."
Blotting it carefully, I gave it into his hands, at the same time asking
him to read it, lest my writing should not be decipherable and any
question might be asked concerning it. As he read I watched his face
intently. Never shall I forget the expression that swept over it. I had
scored a complete victory. The shaft went home. But only for an instant.
With wonderful alacrity he recovered himself and, shaking me feebly by
the hand, bade me good-bye, promising to see that my message was
properly delivered. When he had gone I laid myself back in my chair for
a good think. The situation was a peculiar one in every way. If he were
up to some devilry I had probably warned him. If not, why had he
betrayed himself so openly?
Half an hour later an answer to my first telegram arrived, and, such is
the working of Fate, it necessitated my immediate return to London. I
had been thinking of going for some days past, but had put it off. Now
it was decided for me.
As I did not know whether I should return to Bournemouth, I determined
to call upon the Marquis to bid him good-bye. Accordingly I set off for
the house.
Now if Burke may be believed, the Duke of Glenbarth possesses houses in
half the counties of the kingdom; but I am told his seaside residence
takes precedence of them all in his affections. Standing well out on the
cliffs, it commands a lovely view of the bay--looks toward the Purbeck
Hills on the right, and the Isle of Wight and Hengistbury Head on the
left. The house itself, as far as I could see, left nothing to be
desired, and the grounds had been beautified in the highest form of
landscape gardening.
I found my friend and his father in a summer-house upon the lawn. Both
appeared unaffectedly glad to see me, and equally sorry to hear that I
had come to bid them good bye. Mr. Baxter was not visible, and it was
with no little surprise I learned that he, too, was contemplating a trip
to the metropolis.
"I hope, if ever you visit Bournemouth again, you will come and see us,"
said the Duke as I rose to leave.
"Thank you," said I, "and I hope if ever your son visits Australia you
will permit me to be of some service to him."
"You are very kind. I will bear your offer in mind."
Shaking hands with them both, I bade them good-bye, and went out through
the gate.
But I was not to escape without an interview with my clerical friend
after all. As I left the grounds and turned into the public road I saw a
man emerge from a little wicket gate some fifty yards or so further down
the hedge. From the way he made his appearance, it was obvious he had
been waiting for me to leave the house.
It was, certainly enough, my old friend Baxter. As I came up with him he
said, with the same sanctimonious grin that usually encircled his mouth
playing round it now:
"A nice evening for a stroll, Mr. Hatteras."
"A very nice evening, as you say, Mr. Baxter."
"May I intrude myself upon your privacy for five minutes?"
"With pleasure. What is your business?"
"Of small concern to you, sir, but of immense importance to me. Mr.
Hatteras, I have it in my mind that you do not like me."
"I hope I have not given you cause to think so. Pray what can have put
such a notion into your head?"
I half hoped that he would make some allusion to the telegram he had
despatched for me that morning, but he was far too cunning for that. He
looked me over and over out of his small ferrety eyes before he replied:
"I cannot tell you why I think so, Mr. Hatteras, but instinct generally
makes us aware when we are not quite all we might be to other people.
Forgive me for speaking in this way to you, but you must surely see how
much it means to me to be on good terms with friends of my employer's
family."
"You are surely not afraid lest I should prejudice the Duke against
you?"
"Not afraid, Mr. Hatteras! I have too much faith in your sense of
justice to believe that you would willingly deprive me of my means of
livelihood--for of course that is what it would mean in plain English."
"Then you need have no fear. I have just said good-bye to them. I am
going away to-morrow, and it is improbable that I shall ever see either
of them again."
"You are leaving for Australia?"
"Very shortly, I think."
"I am much obliged to you for the generous way you have treated me. I
shall never forget your kindness."
"Pray don't mention it. Is that all you have to say to me? Then
good-evening!"
"Good-evening, Mr. Hatteras."
He turned back, and I continued my way along the cliff, reflecting on
the curious interview I had just passed through. If the truth must be
known, I was quite at a loss to understand what he meant by it! Why had
he asked that question about Australia? Was it only chance that had led
him to put it, or was it done designedly, and for some reason connected
with that mysterious "train" mentioned in his telegram?
I was to find out later, and only too thoroughly!