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

carrying them in my hand, left the room, and went downstairs to the morning-room. This apartment looked out over the garden, and possessed a window shaded by a big tree. Opening it, I jumped out and carefully closed it after me. Then, pausing for a moment to resume my boots, I crept quietly down the path, jumped a low wall, and so passed into the back street. About fifty yards from the tradesmen’s entrance, but on the opposite side of the road, there was a big Moreton Bay fig-tree. Under this I took my stand, and turned a watchful eye upon the house. Fortunately it was a dark night, so that it would have been extremely difficult for anyone across the way to have detected my presence.

For some minutes I waited, and was beginning to wonder if I could have been deceived, when I heard the soft click of a latch, and next moment a small dark figure passed out into the street, and closed the gate after it. Then, pausing a moment as if to make up her mind, for the mysterious person was a woman, she set off quickly in the direction of the city. I followed about a hundred yards behind her.

With the exception of one policeman, who stared very hard at me, we did not meet a soul. Once or twice I nearly lost her, and when we reached the city itself I began to see that it would be well for me to decrease the difference that separated us, if I did not wish to bid goodbye to her altogether. I accordingly hastened my steps, and in this fashion we passed up one street and down another, until we reached what I cannot help thinking must have been the lowest quarter of Sydney. On either hand were Chinese names and signboards, marine stores, slop shops, with pawnbrokers and public-houses galore; while in this locality few of the inhabitants seemed to have any idea of what bed meant. Groups of sullen-looking men and women were clustered at the corners, and on one occasion the person I was pursuing was stopped by them. But she evidently knew how to take care of herself, for she was soon marching on her way again.

At the end of one long and filthily dirty street she paused and looked about her. I had crossed the road just before this, and was scarcely ten yards behind her. Pulling my hat well down to shade his face, and sticking my hands in my pockets, I staggered and reeled along, doing my best to imitate the gait of a drunken man. Seeing only me about, she went up to the window of a corner house and tapped with her knuckles thrice upon the glass. Before one could have counted twenty the door of the dwelling was opened, and she passed in. Now I was in a nasty fix⁠—either I must be content to abandon my errand, or I must get inside the building, and trust to luck to procure the information I wanted. Fortunately, in my present disguise the girl would be hardly likely to recognise her master’s guest. So giving them time to get into a room, I also went up to the door and turned the handle. To my delight it was unlocked. I opened it, and entered the house.

The passage was in total darkness; but I could make out where the door of the room I wanted to find was located by a thin streak of light low down upon the floor. As softly as I possibly could, I crept up to it, and bent down to look through the keyhole. The view was necessarily limited, but I could just make out the girl I had followed sitting upon a bed; while leaning against the wall, a dirty clay pipe in her mouth, was the vilest old woman I have ever in my life set eyes on. She was very small, with a pinched-up nutcracker face, dressed in an old bit of tawdry finery, more than three sizes too large for her. Her hair fell upon her shoulders in a tangled mass, and from under it her eyes gleamed out like those of a wicked little Scotch terrier ready to bite. As I bent down to listen I heard her say:

“Well, my pretty dear, and what information have you got for the gentleman, that brings you down at this time of night?”

“Only that the coppers are going to start at daylight looking for the Merry Duchess. I heard the Inspector say so himself.”

“At daylight, are they?” croaked the old hag. “Well, I wish ’em joy of their search, I do⁠—them⁠—them! Any more news, my dear?”

“The master and that long-legged slab of a Hatteras went out tonight down the harbour. The old man brought home a lot of money bags, but what was in ’em was only dummies.”

“I know that, too, my dear. Nicely they was sold. Ha! ha!” She chuckled like an old fiend, and then began to cut up another pipe of tobacco in the palm of her hand like a man. She smoked negro head, and the reek of it came out through the keyhole to me. But the younger woman was evidently impatient, for she rose and said:⁠—

“When do they sail with the girl, Sally?”

“They’re gone, my dear. They went at ten tonight.”

At this piece of news my heart began to throb painfully, so much indeed that I could hardly listen for its beating.

“They weren’t long about it,” said the younger girl critically.

“That Nikola’s not long about anything,” remarked the old woman.

“I hope Pipa Lannu will agree with her health⁠—the stuck-up minx⁠—I do!” the younger remarked spitefully. “Now where’s the money he said I was to have. Give it to me and let me be off. I shall get the sack if this is found out.”

“It was five pound I was to give yer, wasn’t it?” the elder woman said, pushing her hand deep down into her