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

you that would involve a story. But perhaps I had better tell you. It was in this way. About three years ago, through a distant relative, I got to know a man named Draper.”

“Draper!” I cried. “You don’t mean⁠—but there, I beg your pardon. Pray go on.”

“As I say, I got to know this man Draper, who was a South-Sea trader. We met once or twice, and then grew more intimate. So friendly did we at last become, that I even went so far as to put some money into a scheme he proposed to me. It was a total failure. Draper proved a perfect fraud and a most unbusiness-like person, and all I got out of the transaction was the cases of curios and weapons which this man Eastover hired from me. It was because⁠—when I went out with my customers to their cab⁠—I saw this man Draper waiting for them that I became uneasy about my things. However, all’s well that ends well, and as they returned my goods and paid the hire I must not grumble.”

“And now tell me what you know of Draper’s present life,” the Inspector said.

“Ah! I’m afraid of that I can tell you but little. He has been twice declared bankrupt, and the last time there was some fuss made over his schooner, the Merry Duchess.”

“He possesses a schooner, then?”

“Oh, yes! A nice boat, She’s in harbour now, I fancy.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Goddard. I am obliged to you for your assistance in this matter.”

“Don’t mention it. I hope that what I have told you may prove of service to you.”

“I’m sure it will. Good day.”

“Good day, gentlemen.”

He accompanied us to the door, and then bade us farewell.

“Now what are we to do?” I asked.

“Well, first, I am going back to the office to put a man on to find this schooner, and then I’m going to take an hour or two’s rest. By that time we shall know enough to be able to lay our hands on Dr. Nikola and his victim, I hope.”

“God grant we may!”

“Where are you going now?”

“Back to Potts Point,” I answered.

We thereupon bade each other farewell and set off in different directions.

When I reached Mr. Wetherell’s house I learned from the butler that his master had fallen asleep in the library. Not wishing to disturb him, I enquired the whereabouts of my own bedroom, and on being conducted to it, laid myself down fully dressed upon the bed. So utterly worn out was I, that my head had no sooner touched the pillow than I was fast asleep. How long I lay there I do not know, but when I woke it was to find Mr. Wetherell standing beside me, holding a letter in his hand. He was white as a sheet, and trembling in every limb.

“Read this, Mr. Hatteras,” he cried. “For Heaven’s sake tell me what we are to do!”

I sat up on the side of the bed and read the letter he handed to me. It was written in what was evidently a disguised hand, on common notepaper, and ran as follows:⁠—

“To Mr. Wetherell,

“Potts Point, Sydney.

“Dear Sir,

“This is to inform you that your daughter is in very safe keeping. If you wish to find her you had better be quick about it. What’s more, you had better give up consulting the police, and suchlike, in the hope of getting hold of her. The only way you can get her will be to act as follows: At eight o’clock tonight charter a boat and pull down the harbour as far as Shark Point. When you get there, light your pipe three times, and someone in a boat near by will do the same. Be sure to bring with you the sum of one hundred thousand pounds in gold, and⁠—this is most important⁠—bring with you the little stick you got from China Pete, or do not come at all. Above all, do not bring more than one man. If you do not put in an appearance you will not hear of your daughter again.

Yours obediently,

“The Man Who Knows.”

IV Following Up a Clue

For some moments after I had perused the curious epistle Mr. Wetherell had brought to my room I remained wrapped in thought.

“What do you make of it?” my companion asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” I answered, looking at it again. “One thing, however, is quite certain, and that is that, despite its curious wording, it is intended you should take it seriously.”

“You think so?”

“I do indeed. But I think when the Inspector arrives it would be just as well to show it to him. What do you say?”

“I agree with you. Let us defer consideration of it until we see him.”

When, an hour later, the Inspector put in an appearance, the letter was accordingly placed before him, and his opinion asked concerning it. He read it through without comment, carefully examined the writing and signature, and finally held it up to the light. Having done this he turned to me and said:

“Have you that envelope we found at the Canary Bird, Mr. Hatteras?”

I took it out of my pocket and handed it to him. He then placed it on the table side by side with the letter, and through a magnifying-glass scrutinised both carefully. Having done so, he asked for the envelope in which it had arrived. Mr. Wetherell had thrown it into the waste-paper basket, but a moment’s search brought it to light. Again he scrutinised both the first envelope and the letter, and then compared them with the second cover.

“Yes, I thought so,” he said. “This letter was written either by Nikola, or at his desire. The paper is the same as that he purchased at the stationer’s shop we visited.”

“And what had we better do now?” queried Wetherell, who had been eagerly waiting for him to give his opinion.

“We must think,” said the Inspector. “In the first place, I suppose you don’t feel inclined to pay the large sum