A Bid for Fortune - Guy Boothby (ready player one ebook TXT) 📗

years to obtain it, without success however. He little dreams I’ve got it after all. If he did I’d be a dead man by this time.’

“ ‘Who is this Nikola then?’ I asked.

“ ‘Dr. Nikola? Well, he’s Nikola, and that’s all I can tell you. If you’re a wise man you’ll want to know no more. Ask the Chinese mothers nursing their almond-eyed spawn in Peking who he is; ask the Japanese, ask the Malays, the Hindus, the Burmese, the coal porters in Port Said, the Buddhist priests of Ceylon; ask the King of Corea, the men up in Tibet, the Spanish priests in Manilla, or the Sultan of Borneo, the ministers of Siam, or the French in Saigon⁠—they’ll all know Dr. Nikola and his cat, and, take my word for it, they fear him.’

“I looked at the little stick in my hand and wondered if the man had gone mad.

“ ‘What do you wish me to do with this?’ I asked.

“ ‘Take it away with you,’ he answered, ‘and guard it like your life, and when you have occasion, use it. Remember you have in your hand what will raise a million men and the equivalent of over ten mil⁠—’

“At this point a violent fit of coughing seized him and nearly tore him to pieces. I lifted him up a little in the bed, but before I could take my hands away a stream of blood had gushed from his lips. Like a flash of thought I ran to the door to call the girl, the boy on the stairs reechoed my shout, and in less time than it takes to tell the woman was in the room. But we were too late⁠—China Pete was dead.

“After giving her all the money I had about me to pay for the funeral, I bade her goodbye, and with the little stick in my pocket returned to my home. Once there I sat myself down in my study, took my legacy out of my pocket and carefully examined it. As to its peculiar power and value, as described to me by the dead man, I hardly knew what to think. My own private opinion was that China Pete was not sane at the time he told me. And yet, how was I to account for the affray with the Chinaman on the boat, and the evident desire the Celestials in Sydney had to obtain information concerning it? After half an hour’s consideration of it I locked it up in a drawer of my safe and went upstairs to bed.

“Next day China Pete was buried, and by the end of the month I had well nigh forgotten that he had ever existed, and had hardly thought of his queer little gift, which still reposed in the upper drawer of my safe. But I was to hear more of it later on.

“One night, about a month after my coming into possession of the stick, my wife and I were entertaining a few friends at dinner. The ladies had retired to the drawing-room and I was sitting with the gentlemen at the table over our wine. Curiously enough we had just been discussing the main aspects of the politics of the East when a maidservant entered to say that a gentleman had called, and would be glad to know if he might have an interview with me on important business. I replied to the effect that I was engaged, and told her to ask him if he would call again in the morning. The servant left the room only to return with the information that the man would be leaving Sydney shortly after daylight, but that if I would see him later on in the evening he would endeavour to return. I therefore told the girl to say I would see him about eleven o’clock, and then dismissed the matter from my mind.

“As the clock struck eleven I said good night to the last of my guests upon the doorstep. The carriage had not gone fifty yards down the street before a hansom drew up before my door and a man dressed in a heavy cloak jumped out. Bidding the driver wait for him he ran up my steps.

“ ‘Mr. Wetherell, I believe?’ he said. I nodded and wished him ‘good evening,’ at the same time asking his business.

“ ‘I will tell you with pleasure,’ he answered, ‘if you will permit me five minutes alone with you. It is most important, and as I leave Sydney early tomorrow morning you will see that there is not much time to spare.’

“I led the way into the house and to my study, which was in the rear, overlooking the garden. Once there I bade him be seated, taking up my position at my desk.

“Then, in the light of the lamp, I became aware of the extraordinary personality of my visitor. He was of middle height, but beautifully made. His face was oval in shape, with a deadly white complexion. In contrast to this, however, his eyes and hair were dark as night. He looked at me very searchingly for a moment and then said: ‘My business will surprise you a little I expect, Mr. Wetherell. First, if you will allow me I will tell you something about myself and then ask you a question. You must understand that I am pretty well known as an Eastern traveller; from Port Said to the Kuriles there is hardly a place with which I am not acquainted. I have a hobby. I am a collector of Eastern curios, but there is one thing I have never been able to obtain.’

“ ‘And that is?’

“ ‘A Chinese executioner’s symbol of office.’

“ ‘But how can I help you in that direction?’ I asked, completely mystified.

“ ‘By selling me one that has lately come into your possession,’ he said. ‘It is a little black stick, about three inches long and covered with Chinese characters. I happened to hear, quite by chance, that you had one in your possession, and I have taken a journey of some thousands of