A Bid for Fortune - Guy Boothby (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📗

me a good deal of uneasiness, if that's any consolation to you. I want to know how you did it?"

"My fame as a wizard would soon evaporate if I revealed my methods," he answered, still looking steadfastly at me. "However, I will give you another exhibition of my powers. In fact, another warning. Have you confidence enough in me to accept it?"

"I'll wait and see what it is first," I replied cautiously, trying to remove my eyes from his.

"Well, my warning to you is this--you intend to sail in the Saratoga for Australia on Friday next, don't you? Well, then, don't go; as you love your life, don't go!"

"Good gracious! and why on earth not?" I cried.

He stared fixedly at me for more than half a minute before he answered. There was no escaping those dreadful eyes, and the regular sweep of those long white fingers on the cat's black fur seemed to send a cold shiver right down my spine. Bit by bit I began to feel a curious sensation of dizziness creeping over me.

"Because you will not go. You cannot go. I forbid you to go."

I roused myself with an effort, and sprang to my feet, crying as I did so:

"And what right have you to forbid me to do anything? I'll go on Friday, come what may. And I'd like to see the man who will prevent me."

Though he must have realized that his attempt to hypnotize me (for attempt it certainly was) had proved a failure, he was not in the least disconcerted.

"My dear fellow," he murmured gently, knocking off the ash of his cigarette against the table edge as he did so, "no one is seeking to prevent you. I gave you, at your own request--you will do me the justice to admit that--a little piece of advice. If you do not care to follow it, that is your concern, not mine; but pray do not blame me. Must you really go now? Then good-night, and good-bye, for I don't suppose I shall see you this side of the Line again."

I took his proffered hand, and wished him good-night. Having done so, I left the house, heartily glad to have said good-bye to the only man in my life whom I have really feared.

When in the train, on my way back to town, I came to review the meeting in the Green Sailor, I found myself face to face with a series of problems very difficult to work out. How had Nikola first learned my name? How had he heard of the Wetherells? Was he the mysterious person his meeting with whom had driven Wetherell out of England? Why had Baxter telegraphed to him that "the train was laid"? Was I the new danger that had arisen? How had Baxter come to be at the Green Sailor, in non-clerical costume? Why had he been so disturbed at my entry? Why had Nikola invented such a lame excuse to account for his presence there? Why had he warned me not to sail in the Saratoga? and, above all, why had he resorted to hypnotism to secure his ends?

I asked myself these questions, but one by one I failed to answer them to my satisfaction. Whatever other conclusion I might have come to, however, one thing at least was certain: that was, that my original supposition was a correct one. There was a tremendous mystery somewhere. Whether or not I was to lose my interest in it after Friday remained to be seen.

It was nearly twelve o'clock by the time I entered my hotel; but late as it was I found time to examine the letter rack. It contained two envelopes bearing my name, and taking them out I carried them with me to my room. One, to my delight, bore the postmark of Port Said, and was addressed in my sweetheart's handwriting. You may guess how eagerly I tore it open, and with what avidity I devoured its contents. From it I gathered that they had arrived at the entrance of the Suez Canal safely; that her father had recovered his spirits more and more with every mile that separated him from Europe. He was now almost himself again, she said, but still refused with characteristic determination to entertain the smallest notion of myself as a son-in-law. But Phyllis herself did not despair of being able to talk him round. Then came a paragraph which struck me as being so peculiar as to warrant my reproducing it here:

"The passengers, what we have seen of them, appear to be, with one exception, a nice enough set of people. That exception, however, is intolerable; his name is Prendergast, and his personal appearance is as objectionable as his behaviour is extraordinary; his hair is snow-white, and his face is deeply pitted with smallpox. This is, of course, not his fault, but it seems somehow to aggravate the distaste I have for him. Unfortunately we were thrown into his company in Naples, and since then the creature has so far presumed upon that introduction, that he scarcely leaves me alone for a moment. Papa does not seem to mind him so much, but I thank goodness that, as he leaves the boat in Port Said, the rest of the voyage will be performed without him."

The remainder of the letter had no concern for any one but myself, so I do not give it. Having read it I folded it up and put it in my pocket, feeling that if I had been on board the boat I should in all probability have allowed Mr. Prendergast to understand that his attentions were distasteful and not in the least required. If I could only have foreseen that within a fortnight I was to be enjoying the doubtful pleasure of that very gentleman's society, under circumstances as important as life and death, I don't doubt I should have thought still more strongly on the subject.

The handwriting of the second envelope was bold, full of character, but quite unknown to me. I opened it with a little feeling of curiosity, and glanced at the signature, "Beckenham." It ran as follows:--

"West Cliff, Bournemouth,
"Tuesday Evening.

"MY DEAR MR. HATTERAS,

"I have great and wonderful news to tell you! This week has proved
an extraordinarily eventful one for me, for what do you think? My
father has suddenly decided that I shall travel. All the details
have been settled in a great hurry. You will understand this when I
tell you that Mr. Baxter and I sail for Sydney in the steamship
Saratoga next week. My father telegraphed to Mr. Baxter, who is
in London, to book our passages and to choose our cabins this
morning. I can only say that my greatest wish is that you were
coming with us. Is it so impossible? Cannot you make your
arrangements fit in? We shall travel overland to Naples and join
the boat there. This is Mr. Baxter's proposition, and you may be
sure, considering what I shall see en route, I have no objection
to urge against it. Our tour will be an extensive one. We visit
Australia and New Zealand, go thence to Honolulu, thence to San
Francisco, returning, across the United States, via Canada, to
Liverpool.

"You may imagine how excited I am at the prospect, and as I feel
that I owe a great measure of my good fortune to you, I want to be
the first to acquaint you of it.

"Yours ever sincerely,
"BECKENHAM."

I read the letter through a second time, and then sat down on my bed to think it out. One thing was self-evident. I knew now how Nikola had become aware that I was going to sail in the mail boat on Friday; Baxter had seen my name in the passenger list, and had informed him.

I undressed and went to bed, but not to sleep. I had a problem to work out, and a more than usually difficult one it was. Here was the young Marquis of Beckenham, I told myself, only son of his father, heir to a great name and enormous estates, induced to travel by my representations. There was a conspiracy afoot in which, I could not help feeling certain, the young man was in some way involved. And yet I had no right to be certain about it after all, for my suspicions at best were only conjectures. Now the question was whether I ought to warn the Duke or not? If I did I might be frightening him without cause, and might stop his son's journey; and if I did not, and things went wrong--well, in that case, I should be the innocent means of bringing a great and lasting sorrow upon his house. Hour after hour I turned this question over and over in my mind, uncertain how to act. The clocks chimed their monotonous round, the noises died down and rose again in the streets, and daylight found me only just come to a decision. I would not tell them; but at the same time I would make doubly sure that I sailed aboard that ship myself, and that throughout the voyage I was by the young man's side to guard him from ill.

Breakfast time came, and I rose from my bed wearied with thought. Even a bath failed to restore my spirits. I went downstairs and, crossing the hall again, examined the rack. Another letter awaited me. I passed into the dining-room and, seating myself at my table, ordered breakfast. Having done so, I turned to my correspondence. Fate seemed to pursue me. On this occasion the letter was from the lad's father, the Duke of Glenbarth himself, and ran as follows:--

"Sandridge Castle, Bournemouth,
"Wednesday.

"DEAR MR. HATTERAS,

"My son tells me he has acquainted you with the news of his
departure for Australia next week. I don't doubt this will cause
you some little surprise; but it has been brought about by a
curious combination of circumstances. Two days ago I received a
letter from my old friend, the Earl of Amberley, who, as you know,
has for the past few years been Governor of the colony of New South
Wales, telling me that his term of office will expire in four
months. Though he has not seen my boy since the latter was two
years old, I am anxious that he should be at the head of affairs
when he visits the colony. Hence this haste. I should have liked
nothing better than to have accompanied him myself, but business of
the utmost importance detains me in England. I am, however, sending
Mr. Baxter with him, with powerful credentials, and if it should be
in your power to do anything to assist them you will be adding
materially to the debt of gratitude I already owe you.

"Believe me, my dear Mr. Hatteras, to be,

"Very truly yours,
"GLENBARTH."

My breakfast finished, I answered both these letters, informed my friends of my contemplated departure by the same steamer, and promised that I would do all that lay in my power to ensure both the young traveller's pleasure