My Strangest Case - Guy Boothby
My Strangest Case
By Guy Boothby
Author of "Dr. Nikola," "The Beautiful White Devil," "Pharos, the
Egyptian," etc.
Illustrated by L.J. Bridgman and P. Hard
_Originally Published 1901_
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"A DARK, NARROW HOLE, THE BOTTOM OF WHICH IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO SEE."
"'LOOK HERE,' HE CRIED, 'IT'S THE BANK OF ENGLAND IN EACH HAND.'"
"'POOR DEVIL,' SAID GREGORY. 'HE SEEMS TO BE ON HIS LAST LEGS.'"
"HE FELL WITH A CRASH AT MY FEET."
"'LET'S OUT HIM, BILL,' SAID THE TALLER OF THE TWO MEN."
"'HOW DO YOU DO, MR. FAIRFAX?' SAID MISS KITWATER."
"IN HIS HAND HE HELD A REVOLVER."
"THE WOODWORK SNAPPED, AND THE TWO MEN FELL OVER THE EDGE."
_MY STRANGEST CASE_
~INTRODUCTION~
PART I
I am of course prepared to admit that there are prettier places on the
face of this earth of ours than Singapore; there are, however, I venture
to assert, few that are more interesting, and certainly none that can
afford a better study of human life and character. There, if you are so
disposed, you may consider the subject of British Rule on the one hand,
and the various aspects of the Chinese question on the other. If you are
a student of languages you will be able to hear half the tongues of the
world spoken in less than an hour's walk, ranging say from Parisian
French to Pigeon English; you shall make the acquaintance of every sort
of smell the human nose can manipulate, from the sweet perfume of the
lotus blossom to the diabolical odour of the Durien; and every sort of
cooking from a dainty _vol-au-vent_ to a stuffed rat. In the harbour the
shipping is such as, I feel justified in saying, you would encounter in
no other port of its size in the world. It comprises the stately
man-of-war and the Chinese Junk; the P. and O., the Messagerie
Maritime, the British India and the Dutch mail-boat; the homely sampan,
the yacht of the globe-trotting millionaire, the collier, the
timber-ship, and in point of fact every description of craft that plies
between the Barbarian East and the Civilized West. The first glimpse of
the harbour is one that will never be forgotten; the last is usually
associated with a desire that one may never set eyes on it again. He who
would, of his own free will, settle down for life in Singapore, must
have acquired the tastes of a salamander, and the sensibility of a frog.
Among its other advantages, Singapore numbers the possession of a
multiplicity of hotels. There is stately Raffles, where the
globe-trotters do mostly take up their abode, also the Hotel de
l'Europe, whose virtues I can vouch for; but packed away in another and
very different portion of the town, unknown to the wealthy G.T., and
indeed known to only a few of the white inhabitants of Singapore itself,
there exists a small hostelry owned by a lynx-eyed Portuguese, which
rejoices in the name of the Hotel of the Three Desires. Now, every man,
who by mischance or deliberate intent, has entered its doors, has his
own notions of the meaning of its name; the fact, however, remains that
it is there, and that it is regularly patronized by individuals of a
certain or uncertain class, as they pass to and fro through the Gateway
of the Further East. This in itself is strange, inasmuch as it is said
that the proprietor rakes in the dollars by selling liquor that is as
bad as it can possibly be, in order that he may get back to Lisbon
before he receives that threatened knife-thrust between the ribs which
has been promised him so long. There are times, as I am unfortunately
able to testify, when the latter possibility is not so remote as might
be expected. Taken altogether, however, the Hotel of the Three Desires
is an excellent place to take up one's abode, provided one is not
desirous of attracting too much attention in the city. As a matter of
fact its patrons, for some reason of their own, are more _en evidence_
after nightfall than during the hours of daylight. They are also frugal
of speech as a rule, and are chary of forming new acquaintances. When
they know each other well, however, it is surprising how affable they
can become. It is not the smallest of their many peculiarities that they
seldom refer to absent friends by their names. A will ask B when he
expects to hear from _Him_, and C will inform D that "the _old man_ is
now running the show, and that, if _he_ doesn't jump from Calcutta
inside a week, there will be trouble on the floor." Meanwhile the
landlord mixes the drinks with his own dirty hands, and reflects
continually upon the villainy of a certain American third mate, who
having borrowed five dollars from him, was sufficiently ungrateful as to
catch typhoid fever and die without either repaying the loan, or, what
was worse, settling his account for the board and lodging received.
Manuel, for this was the proprietor's name, had one or two recollections
of a similar sort, but not many, for, as a rule, he is a careful fellow,
and experience having taught him the manners and idiosyncrasies of his
customers, he generally managed to emerge from his transactions with
credit to himself, and what was of much more importance, a balance on
the right side of his ledger.
The time of which I am now writing was the middle of March, the hottest
and, in every respect, the worst month of the year in Singapore. Day and
night the land was oppressed by the same stifling heat, a sweltering
calidity possessing the characteristics of a steam-laundry, coupled with
those of the stokehole of an ocean liner in the Red Sea. Morning, noon,
and night, the quarter in which the Hotel of the Three Desires was
situated was fragrant with the smell of garbage and Chinese tobacco; a
peculiar blend of perfume, which once smelt is not to be soon forgotten.
Everything, even the bottles on the shelves in the bar, had a greasy
feel about them, and the mildew on one's boots when one came to put them
on in the morning, was a triumph in the way of _erysiphaceous fungi_.
Singapore at this season of the year is neither good for man nor beast;
in this sweeping assertion, of course I except the yellow man, upon whom
it seems to exercise no effect whatsoever.
It was towards evening, and, strange to relate, the Hotel of the Three
Desires was for once practically empty. This was the more extraordinary
for the reason that the customers who usually frequented it, _en route_
from one end of the earth to the other, are not affected by seasons.
Midwinter was to them the same as midsummer, provided they did their
business, or got their ships, and by those ships, or that business,
received their wages. That those hard-earned wages should eventually
find themselves in the pocket of the landlord of the Three Desires, was
only in the natural order of things, and, in consequence, such of his
guests as were sailors, as a general rule, eventually boarded their
ships without as much as would purchase them a pipe of tobacco. It did
not, however, prevent them from returning to the Hotel of the Three
Desires when next they happened to be that way. If he had no other gift,
Manuel at least possessed the faculty of making it comparatively
homelike to his customers, and that is a desideratum not to be despised
even by sailor men in the Far East.
As I have said, night was falling on one of the hottest days of the
year, when a man entered the hotel and inquired for the proprietor.
Pleased to find that there was at last to be a turn in the tide of his
affairs, the landlord introduced himself to the stranger, and at the
same time inquired in what way he could have the pleasure of
serving him.
"I want to put up with you," said the stranger, who, by the way, was a
tall man, with a hawk's eye and a nose that was not unlike the beak of
the same bird. "You are not full, I suppose?"
Manuel rubbed his greasy hands together and observed that he was not as
full as he had been; thereby insinuating that while he was not
overflowing, he was still not empty. It will be gathered from this that
he was a good business man, who never threw a chance away.
"In that case, I'll stay," said the stranger, and set down the small
valise he carried upon the floor.
From what I have already written, you will doubtless have derived the
impression that the Hotel of the Three Desires, while being a useful
place of abode, was far from being the caravanserai of the luxurious
order. The stranger, whoever he might be, however, was either not
fastidious, or as is more probable, was used to similar accommodation,
for he paid as little attention to the perfume of the bar as he did to
the dirt upon the floor and walls, and also upon the landlord's hands.
Having stipulated for a room to himself, he desired to be shown to it
forthwith, whereupon Manuel led him through the house to a small yard at
the back, round which were several small cabins, dignified by the name
of apartments.
"Splendeed," said Manuel enthusiastically, throwing open the door of
one of the rooms as he spoke. "More splendeed than ever you saw."
The stranger gave a ravenish sort of croak, which might have been a
laugh or anything else, and then went in and closed the door abruptly
behind him. Having locked it, he took off his coat and hung it upon the
handle, apparently conscious of the fact that the landlord had glued his
eyes to the keyhole in order that he might, from a precautionary point
of view, take further stock of his patron. Foiled in his intention he
returned to the bar, murmuring "Anglish Peeg" to himself as he did so.
In the meantime the stranger had seated himself upon the rough bed in
the corner, and had taken a letter from his pocket.
"The Hotel of the Three Desires," he reads, "and on March the fifteenth,
without fail." There was a pause while he folded the letter up and
placed it in his pocket. Then he continued, "this is the hotel, and
to-day is the fifteenth of March. But why don't they put in an
appearance. It isn't like them to be late. They'd better not play me any
tricks or they'll find I have lost none of my old power of retaliation."
Having satisfied himself that it was impossible for any one to see into
the room, either through the keyhole or by means of the window, he
partially disrobed, and, when he had done so, unbuckled from round his
waist a broad leather money-belt. Seating himself on the bed once more
he unfastened the strap of the pocket, and dribbled the contents on to
the bed. They consisted of three Napoleons, fifteen English sovereigns,
four half-sovereigns, and eighteen one-franc pieces. In his
trouser-pocket he had four Mexican dollars, and some cosmopolitan change
of small value.
"It's not very much," he muttered to himself after he had counted it,
"but it ought to be sufficient for the business in hand. If I hadn't
been fool enough to listen to that Frenchwoman on board, I shouldn't
have played cards, and then it would have been double. Why the deuce
wasn't I able to get Monsieur ashore? In that case I'd have got it all
back, or I'd have known the reason why."
The idea seemed to afford him some satisfaction, for he smiled, and then
said to himself as if in terms of approbation, "By Jove, I believe
you, my boy!"
When he had counted his money and had returned it once more to its
hiding-place, he buckled the belt round his person and unstrapped his
valise, taking from it a black _Tussa_ coat which he exchanged for that
hanging upon the handle of the door. Then he lighted a Java cigar and
sat down upon the bed to think. Taken altogether, his was not a
prepossessing countenance. The peculiar attributes I have already
described were sufficient to prevent that. At the same time it was a
strong face, that of a man who was little likely to allow himself to be
beaten, of his own free will, in anything he might undertake. The mouth
was firm, the chin square, the eyes dark and well set, moreover he wore
a heavy black moustache, which he kept sharp-pointed. His hair was of
the same colour, though streaked here and there with grey. His height
was an inch and a half above six feet, but by reason of his slim figure,
he looked somewhat taller. His hands and feet were small, but of his
strength there could be no doubt. Taken altogether, he was not a man
with whom one would feel disposed to trifle. Unfortunately, however, the
word _adventurer_ was written all over him, and, as a considerable
section of the world's population have good reason to know, he was as
little likely to fail to take advantage of his opportunities as he was
to forget the man who had robbed him, or who had done him an ill turn.
It was said in Hong Kong that he was well connected, and that he had
claims upon a Viceroy now gone to his account; that, had he persevered
with them, might have placed him in a very different position. How much
truth there was in this report, however, I cannot say; one thing,
however, is quite certain; if it were true, he had fallen grievously
from his high estate.
When his meditations had continued for something like ten minutes, he
rose from the bed, blew a cloud of smoke, stretched himself, strapped
his valise once more, gave himself what the sailors call a hoist, that
he might be sure his money-belt was in its proper position, and then
unlocked the door, passed out, re-locked it after him, and returned to
the bar. There he called for certain curious liquors, smelt them
suspiciously before using them, and then proceeded deliberately to mix
himself a peculiar drink. The landlord watched him with appreciative
surprise. He imagined himself to be familiar with every drink known to
the taste of man, having had wide experience, but such an one as this he
had never encountered before.
"What do you call it?" he asked, when the other had finished his
preparations.
"I call it a 'Help to Reformation,'" the stranger replied. Then, with a
sneer upon his face, he added, "It should be popular with your
customers."
Taking the drink with him into the verandah outside, he seated himself
in a long chair and proceeded to sip it slowly, as if it were some
elixir whose virtue would be lost by haste. Some people might have been
amused by the motley crowd that passed along the street beyond the
verandah-rails, but Gideon Hayle, for such was his name, took no sort of
interest in it. He had seen it too often to find any variety in it. As a
matter of fact the mere sight of a pigtail was sufficient to remind him
of a certain episode in his career which he had been for years
endeavouring to forget.
"It doesn't look as if they are going to put in an appearance to-night,"
he said to himself, as the liquor in the glass began to wane. "Can this
letter have been a hoax, an attempt to draw me off the scent? If so, by
all the gods in Asia, they may rest assured I'll be even with them."
He looked as though he meant it!
At last he rose, and having returned his glass to the bar, donned his
_topee_, left the hotel, and went for a stroll. It was but a short
distance to the harbour, and he presently found himself strolling along
the several miles of what I have already described as the most wonderful
shipping in the world. To Mr. Hayle the scene was too familiar to call
for comment. He had seen it on many occasions, and under a variety of
auspices. He had witnessed it as a deck-hand and as a saloon passenger;
as a steerage passenger, and in the humble capacity of a stowaway. Now
he was regarding it as a gentleman of leisure, who smoked a cigar that
had been paid for, and round whose waist was a belt with gold in it.
Knowing the spot where the British India boats from Calcutta usually
lie, he made his way to it, and inquired for a certain vessel. She had
not yet arrived, he was informed, and no one seemed to know when she
might be expected. At last, tired of his occupation, he returned to his
hotel, and in due course sat down to supper. He smoked another cigar in
the verandah afterwards, and was on the point of retiring for the night,
when two men suddenly made their appearance before him, and accosted him
by name. He immediately sprang to his feet with a cry of welcome.
"I had made up my mind that you were not coming," he said as they shook
hands.
"The old tub didn't get in until a quarter to nine," the taller of the
two new-comers replied. "When did you arrive?"
"This afternoon," said Hayle, and for a moment volunteered no further
information. A good poker-player is always careful not to show his hand.
"I suppose this place is not full?" inquired the man who had last
spoken.
"Full?" asked Hayle scornfully. "It's full of cockroaches and mildew, if
that's what you mean?"
"The best company we could possibly have," said the taller man.
"Cockroaches and blackbeetles don't talk and they don't listen at
keyholes. What's more, if they trouble you, you can put your heel on
them. Now let's see the landlord and see what he's got to offer us in
the way of rooms. We don't want any dinner, because we had it on board
the steamer."
Hayle accompanied them into the bar, and was a witness of the
satisfaction the landlord endeavoured, from business motives, to
conceal. In due course he followed them to the small, stifling rooms in
the yard at the back, and observed that they were placed on either side
of himself. He had already taken the precaution of rapping upon the
walls in order to discover their thickness, and to find out whether the
sound of chinking money was to be heard through them.
"I must remember that thirty-seven and sixpence and two Mexican dollars
are all I have in the world," he said to himself. "It would be bad
business to allow them to suppose that I had more, until I find out what
they want."
"The last time I was here was with Stellman," said the taller of the
men, when they met again in the courtyard. "He had got a concession from
the Dutch, so he said, to work a portion of the West Coast for shell. He
wanted me to go in with him."
"And you couldn't see your way to it?"
"I've seen two Dutch gaols," said the other; "and I have no use for
them."
"And what happened to Stellman?" asked Hayle, but without any apparent
interest. He was thinking of something else at the time.
"They got his money, his boat, and his shell, with three pearls that
would have made your mouth water," replied the other.
"And Stellman?"
"Oh, they buried him at Sourabaya. He took the cholera, so they said,
but I have heard since that he died of starvation. They don't feed you
too well in Dutch gaols, especially when you've got a concession and
a consul."
The speaker looked up at his companion as he said this, and the other,
who, as I have already said, was not interested in the unfortunate
Stellman, or had probably heard the tale before, nodded his head in the
direction of the room where the smaller man was engaged on his toilet,
to the accompaniment of splashing water. The movement of the head was as
significant as the nod of the famous Lord of Burleigh.
"Just the same, as ever," the other replied. "Always pushing his nose
into old papers and documents, until you'd think he'd make himself ill.
Lord, what a man he would have been for the British Museum! There's not
his equal on Ancient Asia in the world."
"And this particular business?"
"Ah, you shall hear all about it in the proper time. That'll be
to-morrow morning, I reckon. In the meantime you can go to bed, and
content yourself with the knowledge that, all being well, you're going
to play a hand in the biggest scoop that ever I or anybody else
have tackled?"
"You can't give me an inkling of what it is to-night, I suppose?"
"I could, but I'm not going to," replied his companion calmly. "The
story would take too long to tell, and I'm tired. Besides, you would
want to ask questions of Coddy, and that would upset the little man's
equilibrium. No! Go to bed and have a good night's rest, and we'll talk
it over in the morning. I wonder what my curtains are like? If ever
there's a place in this world for mosquitoes, it's Singapore, and I
thought Calcutta was bad enough."
Having no desire to waste time in discussing the various capabilities of
this noxious insect, Hayle bade the other good-night, and, when he had
visited the bar and had smoked another cigar, disappeared in the
direction of his own apartment.
Meanwhile Mr. Kitwater, for such was the name of the gentleman he had
just left, had begun his preparations for the night, vigorously cursing
the mosquitoes as he did so. He was a fine-looking man, with a powerful,
though somewhat humorous cast of countenance. His eyes were large, and
not unkindly. His head was a good one from a phrenological point of
view, but was marred by the possession of enormous ears which stood out
on either side of his head like those of a bat. He wore a close-cropped
beard, and he was famous for his strength, which indeed was that of
a giant.
"Hayle, if I can sum it up aright, is just the same as ever," he said as
he arranged the mosquito-netting of his bed. "He doesn't trust me, and I
don't trust him. But he'll be none the less useful for that. Let him try
to play me false, and by the Lord Harry, he'll not live to do it again."
With this amiable sentiment Mr. Kitwater prepared himself for slumber.
Then, upon the three worthies the hot, tropical night settled down.
Next morning they met at breakfast. All three were somewhat silent. It
was as if the weight of the matter which was that day to be discussed
pressed upon their spirits. The smallest of the trio, Septimus Codd by
name, who was habitually taciturn, spoke scarcely a word. He was a
strange little man, a nineteenth century villain in a sense. He was a
rogue and a vagabond, yet his one hobby, apart from his business, was a
study of the Past, and many an authority on Eastern History would have
been astonished at the extent of his learning. He was never so happy as
when burrowing amongst ancient records, and it was mainly due to his
learning in the first place, and to a somewhat singular accident in the
second, that the trio were now foregathered in Singapore. His personal
appearance was a peculiar one. His height was scarcely more than four
feet six inches. His face was round, and at a distance appeared almost
boyish. It was only when one came to look into it more closely, that it
was seen to be scored by numberless small lines. Moreover it was
unadorned by either beard or moustache. His hair was grey, and was worn
somewhat longer than is usual. He could speak fluently almost every
language of the East, and had been imprisoned by the Russians for
sealing in prohibited waters, had been tortured by the Chinese on the
Yang-tse, and, to his own unextinguishable disgrace, flogged by the
French in Tonquin. Not the least curious trait in his character was the
affection he entertained for Kitwater. The pair had been together for
years, had quarrelled repeatedly, but had never separated. The record of
their doings would form an interesting book, but for want of space
cannot be more than referred to here. Hayle had been their partner in
not a few of their curious undertakings, for his courage and resource
made him a valuable ally, though how far they trusted each other it is
impossible to say.
Breakfast over they adjourned to the verandah, where the inevitable
cigars made their appearance.
"Now, let's hear what you've got to say to me?" Hayle began.
"Not here," Kitwater replied. "There are too many listeners. Come down
to the harbour."
So saying he led his companions to the waterside, where he chartered a
native boat for an hour's sail. Then, when they were out of earshot of
the land, he bade Hayle pay attention to what he had to say.
"First and foremost you must understand," he said, "that it's all due to
Coddy here. We heard something of it from an old Siamese in Hanoi, but
we never put much trust in it. Then Coddy began to look around, to hunt
up some of his fusty records, and after awhile he began to think that
there might be something in the story after all. You see it's this way:
you know Sengkor-Wat?"
"Sengkor how much?"
"Sengkor-Wat--the old ruin at the back of Burmah; near the Chinese
Border. Such a place as you never dreamt of. Tumble-down palaces,
temples, and all that sort of thing--lying out there all alone in
the jungle."
"I've seen Amber," said Hayle, with the air of a man who makes a remark
that cannot be lightly turned aside. "After that I don't want any more
ruined cities. I've got no use for them."
"No, but you've got a use for other things, haven't you? You can use
rubies as big as pigeon's eggs, I suppose. You've got a use for
sapphires, the like of which mortal man never set eyes on before."
"That's certainly so," Hayle replied. "But what has this Sengkor-Wat to
do with it?"
"Everything in the world," Kitwater replied. "That's where those rubies
are, and what's more, that's where we are going to find them."
"Are you joking, or is this sober earnest?"
He looked from Kitwater to Codd. The little man thus appealed to nodded
his head. He agreed with all his companion said.
"It's quite true," said he, after a pause. "Rubies, sapphires and gold,
enough to make us all millionaires times over."