Long Live the King - Guy Boothby (iphone ebook reader TXT) 📗

imagine. No, I only knew that he was aware of my intentions, and was resolved that we should not come face to face.

"I feared as much," said Brockford gloomily. "But he cannot have succeeded in getting very far away in such a short space of time. The question is, where we are to look for him. Your Royal Highness would, of course, wish to accompany me on my search?"

I thanked him, and declared that I should be only too grateful, if he would allow me to do so. It was impossible that I could remain inactive at such a time. Under such circumstances I should have given way entirely.

We accordingly bade Montezma good-bye, and set off to the quay, where his launch was waiting for him, in order that we might interrogate Manuel, the engineer in charge. The latter, however, declared most emphatically that he had seen nothing of Senor Mortimer since he had brought him across from the Island that morning. Nor did he believe that he had returned thither by any other means. Having satisfied ourselves on this point we returned to Brockford's office, where, as we expected, we found a letter couched in similar terms to that received by Senor Montezma. It had, however, one significant addition. In the postscript were these words, "Should you see my brother, as you are almost certain to do, tell him that, dearly as I love him, I shall not let him find me if he tries for a hundred years. Tell him to return to England, to marry the woman of his heart, and henceforth to treat me as if I were dead."

"Would it be of any use our putting our case in the hands of the police?" I inquired. "It would not be necessary for us to tell them who my brother is."

Brockford shook his head.

"I am afraid they would not be of the least assistance to us," he answered. "No, if we are to find him at all, we must do it on our own initiative. One thing is quite certain: he would not be likely to remain in the city any longer than he could help. There would always be the risk of your discovering his whereabouts. Now, the question we have to decide for ourselves is, where would he and where could he, go at such short notice? To decide that, we must find out whether he possessed sufficient money to take him very far. The manager of his bank and I are on excellent terms, and I feel sure, if we call upon him, he will give us all the information in his power."

"Let us call on him by all means," I answered; "and with as little delay as possible."

We accordingly set off once more, and, in due course, reached the bank. Passing to the private door, Brockford inquired whether the manager was at home, and, if so, whether he would see us. The servant replied that he had just returned, and we were forthwith conducted to his presence.

Having apologised for the intrusion, Brockford explained the reason of our visit. Max and the manager had always been great friends, and, in consequence, the latter was only too glad to do all that lay in his power to help us in our search. Begging us to be seated for a few moments, he retired into the business portion of the house, to presently return with the information that Max had not visited the bank that day.

"I happen to be aware that he had only a small sum in his pocket this morning," said Brockford. "I asked him for some change, and he could not give it to me. If he has not called here, or drawn a cheque on you and cashed it elsewhere, which he wouldn't be very likely to do, that settles the question of the money. Our next course is to find out what vessels have left the port, or are leaving, this afternoon."

After thanking the manager for his courtesy, we left the bank and once more returned to the harbour. After diligent inquiry there, we discovered that only two vessels had left the port that afternoon. One was bound to Bahia and the north; the other for Buenos Ayres and the south. The first was only a small trading boat; the other a tramp steamer of three thousand five hundred tons. The first, after inquiry, we dismissed from consideration. To the agents of the second we repaired in hot haste. It was just possible we had the key to the mystery in our hands.

"No," said the clerk, who waited upon us, in response to our inquiries, "I am quite sure no fresh hand was taken on board in Rio, and I am equally certain that she carried no passengers."

So minute and searching were our inquiries that it was well-nigh midnight before we had finished them. As on the previous occasions, Max had disappeared without, apparently, leaving a clue of any sort behind, to tell us of his whereabouts.

Next morning we were early at work again. By mid-day we had visited all the principal hotels, and many of less repute, had made inquiries at the various labour offices, at the railway stations, had interrogated the police and harbour officials, but still without success.

All that afternoon we continued our inquiries, on the day following also, and so on, day after day, for upwards of a month. In Mr. Brockford's company I scoured the country in railway trains, on horseback, and on foot. But always with the same result.

Feeling certain at last that he must have left Brazil, I bade Brockford and Montezma, both of whom were most assiduous in the help they rendered me, good-bye, and proceeded to Buenos Ayres. I could hear nothing of him, however, in the Argentine Republic. Thence, almost heartbroken, I caught the mail steamer and returned to England, once more to confess myself a failure.


CHAPTER XIV.


Having described to you the failure of my attempt to find Max in Rio, I will now continue the record of his adventures, as narrated by himself in his diary, from the moment that he caught sight of me in the cab _en route_ for Senor Montezma's office. Scarcely conscious of what he was doing, he had gained the pavement once more, muttering, as he did so, "Good heavens! Paul is searching for me. What am I to do?" A frantic desire to hasten after me and speak to me, so his diary confesses, took possession of him, but he put it away from him. He knew that to do so would only be to re-open the old wound, and later on to draw him back to the life he had made up his mind never to lead again. Consequently, he walked, even faster than before, in the opposite direction to which he had been proceeding when he caught sight of me. He scarcely knew what action to take. To return to Senor Montezma's office was impossible. But if he were going to give up his employment, what was he to do for a living? One thing was quite certain--he could not remain in Rio, and he could not starve. Then he remembered the offer Moreas had made him. If the latter had returned from Buenos Ayres, here was the chance he wanted. The thought was no sooner born in his brain than he searched his pocket-book for the piece of notepaper on which the address was written, and, having found it, set off to find the house. As he soon discovered, it was at the further end of the city, a fact for which he was more than grateful, when he remembered that I should scarcely be likely to venture so far in search of him. At last, after half an hour's walk, he reached the house. From the style Moreas had put on on board the steamer, he had expected to find a comfortable, if not a luxurious residence. To his great surprise, however, the house was situated in a back street, was tall, narrow, and inexpressibly dirty. Every window of that dismal thoroughfare was occupied by male and female heads, craned out in true Rio fashion to scrutinise the passers-by. His reason for being in the street at all, his personal appearance, even the very details of his walk were discussed. He paid no attention, however, but when he had located the house, entered it and made his way upstairs to the second floor. Having ascertained from a woman whom he met on the landing that he had selected the right door, he knocked. A voice within immediately bade him enter, and he did so, to find himself in a large room, scantily furnished, if indeed it could be said to have been furnished at all, and as dirty as the street outside. Moreas, in a state of _deshabille_, was reclining on a cane settee beside the window, and, as usual, he had a cigar in his mouth. On seeing Max he sprang to his feet.

"Senor Mortimer, by all that's wonderful!" he cried, with an expression of the liveliest satisfaction upon his face. "I was only thinking of you a few moments ago, and now you turn up like the genii in the children's fairy stories. I hope your appearance means that you have been thinking over what I said to you some weeks back, and that you are prepared to accept my offer?"

"It is for that purpose that I am here," Max answered. "If we can come to a satisfactory arrangement together, I shall be glad to fall in with your plans."

"My dear fellow," the other cried enthusiastically, "I am quite sure we can agree on that and every other point. What is it you want to know?"

"Well, in the first instance, I want you to tell me when you intend starting on this expedition?" asked Max. "It is most imperative."

"The deuce it is!" returned Moreas, "what is the reason of it all--forgery, murder, or only petty larceny? I thought you had settled down to a respectable business career, and that you were determined to emulate the clinging propensities of the limpet?"

"My business career, as you call it, has suddenly come to a standstill," said Max gloomily, without thinking or caring very much what construction the other might place upon his statement. "It is sufficient that I must not be seen in Rio for some time to come, if ever."

"That is where the wind sits, is it?" retorted Moreas. "Well, it's no business of mine, of course; but, without wishing to be rude, I must say that I didn't think you had it in you. Hadn't you better make a clean breast of it to me, and see what I can do to help you? I'm rather resourceful in such matters."

"Good heavens! man," Max cried, "you don't surely suppose I'm wanting to keep out of the way because I've done anything wrong, do you? If you should----"

"My dear fellow," said Moreas with a deprecatory wave of his hand, "I don't think anything of the kind. I never do. It only makes trouble. You have overrun the constable, I suppose, and want to lie by until the pursuit has ended. Most of us do that at some time or other in our lives."

"I've done nothing of the kind," said Max with warmth. "I don't owe a halfpenny in the world. What's more, I have a considerable sum of money lying to my credit at my bank. No, the sole reason I have for wanting to get away quickly is because to-day I saw somebody connected with my old life. He's looking for me