A Bid for Fortune - Guy Boothby (ready player one ebook TXT) 📗
- Author: Guy Boothby
Book online «A Bid for Fortune - Guy Boothby (ready player one ebook TXT) 📗». Author Guy Boothby
“The sham Marquis, unfortunately,” put in the real one.
“It proved to be unfortunate for me also,” continued Phyllis. “As it was a square we sat it out in the anteroom leading off the drawing-room, and while we were there the young gentleman did me the honour of proposing to me. It was terribly embarrassing for me, but I allowed him to see, as unmistakably as possible, that I could give him no encouragement, and, as the introduction to the next waltz started, we parted the best of friends. About half an hour later, just as I was going to dance the lancers, Mrs. Mayford came towards me and drew me into the drawing-room. Mr. Baxter, his lordship’s tutor, was with her, and I noticed that they both looked supernaturally grave.
“ ‘What is the matter?’ I asked, becoming alarmed by her face.
“ ‘My dear,’ said she, ‘you must be brave. I have come to tell you that your father has been taken ill, and has sent for you.’
“ ‘Papa ill!’ I cried. ‘Oh, I must go home to him at once.’
“ ‘I have taken the liberty of facilitating that,’ said Mr. Baxter, ‘by ordering the servants to call up your carriage, which is now waiting for you at the door. If you will allow me, I will conduct you to it?’
“I apologised to my partner for being compelled to leave him, and then went to the cloakroom. As soon as I was ready I accompanied Mr. Baxter to the door, where the brougham was waiting. Without looking at the coachman I got in, at the same time thanking my escort for his kindness. He shut the door and cried ‘Home’ to the coachman. Next moment we were spinning down the drive.
“As I was far too much occupied thinking of you, papa, I did not notice the direction we were taking, and it was not until the carriage stopped before a house in a back street that I realized that something was wrong. Then the door was opened and a gentleman in evening dress begged me to alight. I did so, almost without thinking what I was doing.
“ ‘I am sorry to say your father is not at all well, Miss Wetherell,’ said the person who helped me out. ‘If you will be good enough to step into my house I will let the nurse take you to him.’
“Like a person in a dream I followed him into the dwelling, and, as soon as I was inside, the door was shut upon me.
“ ‘Where is my father? and how is it that he is here?’ I cried, beginning to get frightened.
“ ‘You will know all when you see him,’ said my companion, throwing open the door of a bedroom. I went in, and that door was also shut upon me. Then I turned and faced the man.”
“What was he like?” cried Wetherell.
“He was the man you were telling us about at dinner—Dr. Nikola.”
“Ah! And then?”
“He politely but firmly informed me that I was his prisoner, and that until you gave up something he had for years been trying to obtain he would be compelled to detain me. I threatened, entreated, and finally wept, but he was not to be moved. He promised that no effort should be spared to make me comfortable, but he could not let me go until you had complied with his request. So I was kept there until late one night, when I was informed that I must be ready to leave the house. A brougham was at the door, and in this, securely guarded, I was conducted to the harbour, where a boat was in waiting. In this we were rowed out to a schooner, and I was placed on board her. A comfortably furnished cabin was allotted to me, and everything I could possibly want was given me. But though the greatest consideration in all other matters was shown me I could gather nothing of where we were going or what my fate was to be, nor could I discover any means of communicating with the shore. About midnight we got under weigh and commenced our voyage. Our destination was the island where you found me.”
“And how did Nikola treat you during the voyage and your stay on Pipa Lannu?” I asked.
“With invariable courtesy,” she replied. “A more admirable host no one could desire. I had but to express a wish and it was instantly gratified. When we were clear of the land I was allowed on deck; my meals were served to me in a cabin adjoining my own, and a stewardess had been specially engaged to wait upon me. As far as my own personal treatment went I have nothing to complain of. But oh, you can’t tell how thankful I was to get away; I had begun to imagine all sorts of horrors.”
“Well, God be thanked, it’s all done with now,” I said earnestly.
“And what is more,” said Wetherell, “you have won one of the best husbands in the world. Mr. Hatteras, your hand, sir; Phyllis, my darling, yours! God bless you both.”
Now what more is there to tell? A week later the eventful voyage was over and we were back in Sydney again.
Then came our marriage. But, with your kind permission, I will only give you a very bare description of that. It took place at the cathedral, the Primate officiating. The Marquis of Beckenham was kind enough to act as my best man, while the Colonial Secretary, of course, gave his daughter away.
But now I come to think of it, there is one point I must touch upon in connection with that happy occasion, and that was the arrival of an important present on the evening prior to the event.
We were sitting in the drawing-room when the butler brought in a square parcel on a
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