A Bid for Fortune, Guy Boothby [easy books to read TXT] 📗

“Over to Podgers’ chemist shop across the way. That was the last I saw of him.”

“I’m obliged to you, Mr. Maxwell,” I said, shaking him by the hand. “But I’m sorry you can’t tell us something more definite about him.” Then turning to the Inspector: “I suppose we had better go off and find Podgers. But if we have to spend much more time in rushing about like this we shall be certain to lose them altogether.”

“Let us be off to Podgers, then, as fast as we can go.”

Bidding Mr. Maxwell goodbye, we set off again, and in ten minutes had arrived at the shop and had Mr. Podgers downstairs. We explained our errand as briefly as possible, and gave a minute description of the man we wanted.

“I remember him perfectly,” said the sedate Podgers. “He came into my shop last night and purchased a bottle of chloroform.”

“You made him sign the poison book, of course?”

“Naturally I did, Mr. Inspector. Would you like to see his signature?”

“Very much,” we both answered at once, and the book was accordingly produced.

Podgers ran his finger down the list.

“Brown, Williams, Davis⁠—ah! here it is. ‘Chloroform: J. Venneage, 22, Calliope Street, Woolahra.’ ”

“Venneage!” I cried. “Why, that’s not his name!”

“Very likely not,” replied Podgers; “but it’s the name he gave me.”

“Never mind, we’ll try 22, Calliope Street on the chance,” said the Inspector. “Come along, Mr. Hatteras.”

Again we drove off, this time at increased pace. In less than fifteen minutes we had turned into the street we wanted, and pulled up about a hundred yards from the junction. It was a small thoroughfare, with a long line of second-class villa residences on either side. A policeman was sauntering along on the opposite side of the way, and the Inspector called him over. He saluted respectfully, and waited to be addressed.

“What do you know of number 22?” asked the Inspector briefly. The constable considered for a few moments, and then said:

“Well, to tell you the truth, sir, I didn’t know until yesterday that it was occupied.”

“Have you seen anybody about there?”

“I saw three men go in just as I came on the beat tonight.”

“What were they like?”

“Well, I don’t know that I looked much at them. They were all pretty big, and they seemed to be laughing and enjoying themselves.”

“Did they! Well, we must go in there and have a look at them. You had better come with us.”

We walked on down the street till we arrived at No. 22. Then opening the gate we went up the steps to the hall door. It was quite light enough by this time to enable us to see everything distinctly. The Inspector gave the bell a good pull and the peal reechoed inside the house. But not a sound of any living being came from within in answer. Again the bell was pulled, and once more we waited patiently, but with the same result.

“Either there’s nobody at home or they refuse to hear,” said the Inspector. “Constable, you remain where you are and collar the first man you see. Mr. Hatteras, we will go round to the back and try to effect an entrance from there.”

We left the front door, and finding a path reached the yard. The house was only a small one, with a little verandah at the rear on to which the back door opened. On either side of the door were two fair-sized windows, and by some good fortune it chanced that the catch of one of these was broken.

Lifting the sash up the Inspector jumped into the room, and its soon as he was through I followed him. Then we looked about us. The room, however, was destitute of furniture or occupants.

“I don’t hear anybody about,” my companion said, opening the door that led into the hall. Just at that moment I heard a sound, and touching his arm signed to him to listen. We both did so, and sure enough there came again the faint muttering of a human voice. In the half-dark of the hall it sounded most uncanny.

“Somebody in one of the front rooms,” said the Inspector. “I’ll slip along and open the front door, bring in the man from outside, and then we’ll burst into the room and take our chance of capturing them.”

He did as he proposed, and when the constable had joined us we moved towards the room on the left.

Again the mutterings came from the inside, and the Inspector turned the handle of the door. It was locked, however.

“Let me burst it in,” I whispered.

He nodded, and I accordingly put my shoulder against it, and bringing my strength to bear sent it flying in.

Then we rushed into the room, to find it, at first glance, empty. Just at that moment, however, the muttering began again, and we looked towards the darkest corner; somebody was there, lying on the ground. I rushed across and knelt down to look. It was Beckenham; his mouth gagged and his hands and feet bound. The noise we had heard was that made by him trying to call us to his assistance.

In less time than it takes to tell I had cut his bonds and helped him to sit up. Then I explained to the Inspector who he was.

“Thank God you’re found!” I cried. “But what does it all mean? How long have you been like this? and where is Nikola?”

“I don’t know how long I’ve been here,” he answered, “and I don’t know where Nikola is.”

“But you must know something about him!” I cried. “For Heaven’s sake tell me all you can! I’m in awful trouble, and your story may give me the means of saving a life that is dearer to me than my own.”

“Get me something to drink first, then,” he replied; “I’m nearly dying of thirst; after that I’ll tell you all I can.”

Fortunately I had had the foresight to put a flask of whisky into my pocket, and I now took it out and gave him a stiff nobbler. It revived him somewhat, and