Part 28 (1/2)
”Either there's n.o.body at home or they refuse to hear,” said the Inspector. ”Constable, you remain where you are and collar the first man you see. Mr. Hatteras, we will go round to the back and try to effect an entrance from there.”
We left the front door, and finding a path reached the yard. The house was only a small one, with a little verandah at the rear on to which the back door opened. On either side of the door were two fair-sized windows, and by some good fortune it chanced that the catch of one of these was broken.
Lifting the sash up, the Inspector jumped into the room, and as soon as he was through I followed him. Then we looked about us. The room, however, was dest.i.tute of furniture or occupants.
”I don't hear anybody about,” my companion said, opening the door that led into the hall. Just at that moment I heard a sound, and touching his arm signed to him to listen. We both did so, and surely enough there came again the faint muttering of a human voice. In the half-dark of the hall it sounded most uncanny.
”Somebody in one of the front rooms,” said the Inspector. ”I'll slip along and open the front door, bring in the man from outside, and then we'll burst into the room and take our chance of capturing them.”
He did as he proposed, and when the constable had joined us we moved towards the room on the left.
Again the mutterings came from the inside, and the Inspector turned the handle of the door. It was locked, however. ”Let me burst it in,” I whispered.
He nodded, and I accordingly put my shoulder against it, and bringing my strength to bear sent it flying in.
Then we rushed into the room, to find it, at first glance, empty. Just at that moment, however, the muttering began again, and we looked towards the darkest corner; somebody was there, lying on the ground. I rushed across and knelt down to look. _It was Beckenham; his mouth gagged and his hands and feet bound. The noise we had heard was that made by him trying to call us to his a.s.sistance._
In less time than it takes to tell I had cut his bonds and helped him to sit up. Then I explained to the Inspector who he was.
”Thank G.o.d you're found!” I cried. ”But what does it all mean? How long have you been like this? and where is Nikola?”
”I don't know how long I've been here,” he answered, ”and I don't know where Nikola is.”
”But you must know something about him!” I cried. ”For Heaven's sake tell me all you can! I'm in awful trouble, and your story may give me the means of saving a life that is dearer to me than my own.”
”Get me something to drink first, then,” he replied; ”I'm nearly dying of thirst; after that I'll tell you.”
Fortunately I had had the foresight to put a flask of whisky into my pocket, and I now took it out and gave him a stiff n.o.bbler. It revived him somewhat, and he prepared to begin his tale. But the Inspector interrupted--
”Before you commence, my lord, I must send word to the Commissioner that you have been found.”
He wrote a message on a piece of paper and despatched the constable with it. Having done so he turned to Beckenham and said--
”Now, my lord, pray let us hear your story.”
Beckenham forthwith commenced.
CHAPTER III
LORD BECKENHAM'S STORY
”When you left me, Mr. Hatteras, I remained in the house for half an hour or so reading. Then, thinking no harm could possibly come of it, I started out for a little excursion on my own account. It was about half-past eleven then.
”Leaving the hotel I made for the ferry and crossed Darling Harbour to Millers Point; then, setting myself for a good ramble, off I went through the city, up one street and down another, to eventually bring up in the botanical gardens. The view was so exquisite that I sat myself down on a seat and resigned myself to rapturous contemplation of it. How long I remained there I could not possibly say. I only know that while I was watching the movements of a man-o'-war in the cove below me I became aware, by intuition--for I did not look at him--that I was the object of close scrutiny by a man standing some little distance from me. Presently I found him drawing closer to me, until he came boldly up and seated himself beside me. He was a queer-looking little chap, in some ways not unlike my old tutor Baxter, with a shrewd, clean-shaven face, grey hair, bushy eyebrows, and a long and rather hooked nose. He was well dressed, and when we had been sitting side by side for some minutes he turned to me and said--
”'It is a beautiful picture we have spread before us, is it not?'
”'It is, indeed,' I answered. 'And what a diversity of s.h.i.+pping!'