A Bid for Fortune Guy Boothby (animal farm read .txt) 📖

thoughts, I called him up and bought an Evening Mercury. Haying done so I passed into my sitting-room to read it. The first, second, and third pages held nothing of much interest to me, but on the fourth was an item which was astonishing enough to almost make my hair stand on end. It ran as follows:

Rumoured Important Engagement in High Life

We have it on the very best authority that an engagement will shortly be announced between a certain illustrious young nobleman, now a visitor in our city, and the beautiful daughter of one of Sydney’s most prominent politicians, who has lately returned from a visit to England. The Evening Mercury tenders the young couple their sincerest congratulations.

Could this be the solution of the whole mystery? Could it be that the engagement of Baxter, the telegram, the idea of travel, the drugging, the imprisonment in Port Said, the substitution of the false marquis were all means to this end? Was it possible that this man, who was masquerading as a man of title, was to marry Phyllis (for there could be no possible doubt as to the persons to whom that paragraph referred)? The very thought of such a thing was not to be endured.

There must be no delay now, I told myself, in revealing all I knew. The villains must be unmasked this very night. Wetherell should know all as soon as I could tell him.

As I came to this conclusion I crushed my paper into my pocket and set off, without a moment’s delay, for Potts Point. The night was dark, and now a thick drizzle was falling.

Though it really did not take me very long, it seemed an eternity before I reached the house and rang the bell. The butler opened the door, and was evidently surprised to see me.

“Is Mr. Wetherell at home?” I asked. For a moment he looked doubtful as to what he should say, then compromising matters, answered that he would see.

“I know what that means,” I said in reply. “Mr. Wetherell is in, but you don’t think he’ll see me. But he must! I have news for him of the very utmost importance. Will you tell him that?”

He left me and went along the hall and upstairs. Presently he returned, shaking his head.

“I’m very sorry, sir, but Mr. Wetherell’s answer is, if you have anything to tell him you must put it in writing; he cannot see you.”

“But he must! In this case I can accept no refusal. Tell him, will you, that the matter upon which I wish to speak to him has nothing whatsoever to do with the request I made to him this morning. I pledge him my word on that.”

Again the butler departed, and once more I was left to cool my heels in the portico. When he returned it was with a smile upon his face.

“Mr. Wetherell will be glad if you will step this way, sir.” I followed him along the hall and up the massive stone staircase. Arriving at the top he opened a door on the left-hand side and announced “Mr. Hatteras.”

I found Mr. Wetherell seated in a low chair opposite the fire, and from the fact that his right foot was resting on a sort of small trestle, I argued that he was suffering from an attack of his old enemy the gout.

“Be good enough to take a chair, Mr. Hatteras,” he said, when the door had been closed. “I must own I am quite at a loss to understand what you can have to tell me of so much importance as to bring you to my house at this time of night.”

“I think I shall be able to satisfy you on that score, Mr. Wetherell,” I replied, taking the Evening Mercury from my pocket and smoothing it out. “In the first place will you be good enough to tell me if there is any truth in the inference contained in that paragraph?”

I handed the paper to him and pointed to the lines in question. Having put on his glasses he examined it carefully.

“I am sorry they should have made it public so soon, I must admit,” he said. “But I don’t deny that there is a considerable amount of truth in what that paragraph reports.”

“You mean by that that you intend to try and marry Phyllis⁠—Miss Wetherell⁠—to the Marquis of Beckenham?”

“The young man has paid her a very considerable amount of attention ever since he arrived in the colony, and only last week he did me the honour of confiding his views to me. You see I am candid with you.”

“I thank you for it. I, too, will be candid with you. Mr. Wetherell, you may set your mind at rest at once, this marriage will never take place!”

“And pray be so good as to tell me your reason for such a statement!”

“If you want it bluntly, because the young man now staying at Government House is no more the Marquis of Beckenham than I am. He is a fraud, an impostor, a cheat of the first water, put up to play his part by one of the cleverest scoundrels unhung.”

“Mr. Hatteras, this is really going too far. I can quite understand your being jealous of his lordship, but I cannot understand your having the audacity to bring such a foolish charge against him. I, for one, must decline to listen to it. If he had been the fraud you make him out, how would his tutor have got those letters from his Grace the Duke of Glenbarth? Do you imagine his Excellency the Governor, who has known the family all his life, would not have discovered him ere this? No, no, sir! It won’t do! If you think so, who has schooled him so cleverly? Who has pulled the strings so wonderfully?”

“Why, Nikola to be sure!”

Had I clapped a revolver to the old gentleman’s head, or had the walls opened and Nikola himself stepped into the room, a greater effect of terror and consternation could not have been