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

produced in the old gentleman’s face than did those five simple words. He fell back in his chair gasping for breath, his complexion became ashen in its pallor, and for a moment his whole nervous system seemed unstrung. I sprang to his assistance, thinking he was going to have a fit, but he waved me off, and when he had recovered himself sufficiently to speak, said hoarsely:

“What do you know of Dr. Nikola? Tell me for God’s sake!⁠—what do you know of him? Quick, quick!”

Thereupon I set to work and told him my story, from the day of my arrival in Sydney from Thursday Island up to the moment of my reaching his house, described my meeting and acquaintance with the real Beckenham, and all the events consequent upon it. He listened, with an awful terror growing in his face, and when I had finished my narrative with the disappearance of my friend he nearly choked. “Mr. Hatteras,” he gasped, “will you swear this is the truth you are telling me?”

“I solemnly swear it,” I answered. “And will do so in public when and where you please.”

“Then before I do anything else I will beg your pardon for my conduct to you. You have taken a noble revenge. I cannot thank you sufficiently. But there is not a moment to lose. My daughter is at a ball at Government House at the present moment. I should have accompanied her, but my gout would not permit me. Will you oblige me by ringing that bell?”

I rang the bell as requested, and then asked what he intended doing.

“Going off to his Excellency at once, gout or no gout, and telling him what you have told me. If it is as you have said, we must catch these scoundrels and rescue your friend without an instant’s delay!”

Here the butler appeared at the door.

“Tell Jenkins to put the grey mare in my brougham and bring her round at once.”

Half an hour later we were at Government House waiting in his Excellency’s study for an interview. The music of the orchestra in the ballroom came faintly in to us, and when Lord Amberley entered the room he seemed surprised, as well he might be, to see us. But as soon as he had heard what we had to tell him his expression changed. “Mr. Wetherell, this is a very terrible charge you bring against my guest. Do you think it can possibly be true?”

“I sadly fear so,” said Mr. Wetherell. “But perhaps Mr. Hatteras will tell you the story exactly as he told it to me.”

I did so, and, when I had finished, the Governor went to the door and called a servant.

“Find Lord Beckenham, Johnson, at once, and ask him to be so good as to come to me here. Stay⁠—on second thoughts I’ll go and look for him myself.”

He went off, leaving us alone again to listen to the ticking of the clock upon the mantelpiece, and to wonder what was going to happen next. Five minutes went by and then ten, but still he did not return. When he did do so it was with a still more serious countenance.

“You are evidently right, gentlemen. Neither the spurious marquis, nor his tutor, Mr. Baxter, can be found anywhere. I have discovered, too, that all their valuables and light luggage have been smuggled out of the house tonight without the knowledge of my servants. This is a very terrible business. But I have given instructions, and the police will be communicated with at once. Now we must do our best to find the real Beckenham.”

“Lord Amberley,” said Wetherell, in a choking voice, “do you think one of your servants could tell my daughter to come to me at once; I am not feeling very well.”

The Governor hesitated a moment, and then said:

“I am sorry to say, Mr. Wetherell, your daughter left the House an hour ago. A message was brought to her that you had been suddenly taken ill and needed her. She went off at once.”

Wetherell anxiety was piteous to see.

“My God!” he cried in despair. “If that is so, I am ruined. This is Nikola’s revenge.”

Then he uttered a curious little sigh, moved a step forward, and fell in a dead faint upon the floor.

II On the Trail

As soon as Wetherell was able to speak again he said as feebly as an old man of ninety, “Take me home, Mr. Hatteras, take me home, and let us think out together there what is best to be done to rescue my poor child.” The Governor rose to his feet and gave him his arm.

“I think you’re right, Mr. Wetherell,” he said. “It is of course just probable that you will find your daughter at her home when you arrive. God grant she may be! But in case she is not I will communicate all I know to the Police Commissioner on his arrival, and send him and his officers on to you. We must lose no time if we wish to catch these scoundrels.” Then turning to me, he continued: “Mr. Hatteras, it is owing to your promptness that we are able to take such early steps. I shall depend upon your further assistance in this matter.”

“You may do so with perfect confidence, my lord,” I answered. “If you knew all you would understand that I am more anxious perhaps than anyone to discover the whereabouts of the young lady and my unfortunate friend.”

If his Excellency thought anything he did not give utterance to it, and Mr. Wetherell’s carriage being at the door we went out to it without another word. As we stepped into it Mr. Wetherell cried to the coachman:

“Home, and as fast as you can go.”

Next moment we were being whirled down the drive at a pace which at any other time I should have thought dangerous. Throughout the journey we sat almost silent, wrapped in our anxieties and forebodings; hoping almost against hope that when we arrived at Potts Point we should find Phyllis awaiting us there.