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42 chapters
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER I
“Filth,” grunted Trent—“ugh! I tell you what it is, my venerable friend—I have seen some dirty cabins in the west of Ireland and some vile holes in East London. I've been in some places which I can't think of even now without feeling sick. I'm not a particular chap, wasn't brought up to it—no, nor squeamish either, but this is a bit thicker than anything I've ever knocked up against. If Francis doesn't hurry we'll have to chuck it! We shall never stand it out, Monty!” The older man, gaunt, blear
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
A fat, unwholesome-looking creature, half native, half Belgian, waddled across the open space towards the hut in which the two strangers had been housed. He was followed at a little distance by two sturdy natives bearing a steaming pot which they carried on a pole between them. Trent set down his revolver and rose to his feet. “What news, Oom Sam?” he asked. “Has the English officer been heard of? He must be close up now.” “No news,” the little man grunted. “The King, he send some of his own sup
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
For a moment Monty stood as though dazed. Then the excitement which had shone in his face slowly subsided. He stood quite silent, muttering softly to himself, his eyes fixed upon Trent. “Her picture! My little girl's picture! Trent, you're joking, you're mad!” “Am I?” Trent answered nonchalantly. “Perhaps so! Anyhow those are my terms! You can play or not as you like! I don't care.” A red spot burned in Monty's cheeks, and a sudden passion shook him. He threw himself upon Trent and would have st
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
Trent moved forward and greeted the newcomer awkwardly. “You're Captain Francis,” he said. “We've been waiting for you.” The statement appeared to annoy the Explorer. He looked nervously at the two men and about the hut. “I don't know how the devil you got to hear of my coming, or what you want with me,” he answered brusquely. “Are you both English?” Trent assented, waving his hand towards his companion in introductory fashion. “That's my pal, Monty,” he said. “We're both English right enough.”
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
The howls became a roar, blind passion was changed into purposeful fury. Who were these white men to march so boldly into the presence of the King without even the formality of sending an envoy ahead? For the King of Bekwando, drunk or sober, was a stickler for etiquette. It pleased him to keep white men waiting. For days sometimes a visitor was kept waiting his pleasure, not altogether certain either as to his ultimate fate, for there were ugly stories as to those who had journeyed to Bekwando
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CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VI
A sky like flame, and an atmosphere of sulphur. No breath of air, not a single ruffle in the great, drooping leaves of the African trees and dense, prickly shrubs. All around the dank, nauseous odour of poison flowers, the ceaseless dripping of poisonous moisture. From the face of the man who stood erect, unvanquished as yet in the struggle for life, the fierce sweat poured like rain—his older companion had sunk to the ground and the spasms of an ugly death were twitching at his whitening lips.
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CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VII
In a handsomely appointed room of one of the largest hotels in London a man was sitting at the head of a table strewn with blotting-paper and writing materials of every description. Half a dozen chairs had been carelessly pushed back, there were empty champagne bottles upon the sideboard, the air was faintly odorous of tobacco smoke—blue wreaths were still curling upwards towards the frescoed ceiling. Yet the gathering had not been altogether a festive one. There were sheets of paper still lying
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CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
Trent, on leaving the hotel, turned for almost the first time in his life westwards. For years the narrow alleys, the thronged streets, the great buildings of the City had known him day by day, almost hour by hour. Its roar and clamour, the strife of tongues and keen measuring of wits had been the salt of his life. Steadily, sturdily, almost insolently, he had thrust his way through to the front ranks. In many respects those were singular and unusual elements which had gone to the making of his
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CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER IX
The girl had moved a step towards him as she spoke, and a gleam of sunlight which had found its way into the grove flashed for a moment on the stray little curls of her brown-gold hair and across her face. Her lips were parted in a delightful smile; she was very pretty, and inclined to be apologetic. But Scarlett Trent had seen nothing save that first glance when the sun had touched her face with fire. A strong man at all times, and more than commonly self-masterful, he felt himself now as helpl
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CHAPTER X
CHAPTER X
Trent's appearance upon the lawn was greeted with a shout of enthusiasm. The young lady in blue executed a pas seut, and came across to him on her toes, and the girl with the yellow hair, although sulky, gave him to understand by a sidelong glance that her favour was not permanently withdrawn. They neither of them noticed the somewhat ominous air of civility with which he received their greetings, or the contempt in his eyes as he looked them silently over. “Where are the lost tribe?” he inquire
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CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XI
Trent was awakened next morning by the sound of carriage wheels in the drive below. He rang his bell at once. After a few moments' delay it was answered by one of his two men-servants. “Whose carriage is that in the drive?” he asked. “It is a fly for Mr. Da Souza, sir.” “What! has he gone?” Trent exclaimed. “Yes, sir, he and Mrs. Da Souza and the young lady.” “And Miss Montressor and her friend?” “They shared the fly, sir. The luggage all went down in one of the carts.” Trent laughed outright, h
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CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XII
Trent rose up with flashing eyes. Da Souza shrank back from his outstretched hands. The two men stood facing one another. Da Souza was afraid, but the ugly look of determination remained upon his white face. Trent felt dimly that there was something which must be explained between them. There had been hints of this sort before from Da Souza. It was time the whole thing was cleared up. The lion was ready to throw aside the jackal. “I give you thirty seconds,” he said, “to clear out. If you haven'
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CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIII
It is probable that Mrs. Da Souza, excellent wife and mother though she had proved herself to be, had never admired her husband more than when, followed by the malevolent glances of Miss Montressor and her friend, she, with her daughter and Da Souza, re-entered the gates of the Lodge. The young ladies had announced their intention of sitting in the fly until they were allowed speech with their late host; to which he had replied that they were welcome to sit there until doomsday so long as they r
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CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XIV
Scarlett Trent spent the first part of the morning, to which he had been looking forward so eagerly, alone in his study with locked door to keep out all intruders. He had come face to face with the first serious check in his career, and it had been dealt him too by the one man whom, of all his associates, he disliked and despised. In the half-open drawer by his side was the barrel of a loaded revolver. He drew it out, laid it on the table before him, and regarded it with moody, fascinated eyes.
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CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XV
Probably nothing else in the world could so soon have transformed Scarlett Trent from the Gold Coast buccaneer to the law-abiding tenant of a Surrey villa. Before her full, inquiring eyes and calm salute he found himself at once abashed and confused. He raised his hand to his head, only to find that he had come out without a hat, and he certainly appeared, as he stood there, to his worst possible advantage. “Good morning, miss,” he stammered; “I'm afraid I startled you!” She winced a little at h
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CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVI
Ernestine Wendermott travelled back to London in much discomfort, being the eleventh occupant of a third-class carriage in a particularly unpunctual and dilatory train. Arrived at Waterloo, she shook out her skirts with a little gesture of relief and started off to walk to the Strand. Half-way across the bridge she came face to face with a tall, good-looking young man who was hurrying in the opposite direction. He stopped short as he recognised her, dropped his eyeglass, and uttered a little exc
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CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVII
“Ernestine,” he said gravely, “I am going to speak to you about your father!” She looked up at him in swift surprise. “Is it necessary?” “I think so,” he answered. “You won't like what I'm going to tell you! You'll think you've been badly treated. So you have! I pledged my word, in a weak hour, with the others. To-day I'm going to break it. I think it best.” “Well?” “You've been deceived! You were told always that your father had died in prison. He didn't.” “What!” Her sharp cry rang out strange
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CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XVIII
Dinner at the Lodge that night was not a very lively affair. Trent had great matters in his brain and was not in the least disposed to make conversation for the sake of his unbidden guests. Da Souza's few remarks he treated with silent contempt, and Mrs. Da Souza he answered only in monosyllables. Julie, nervous and depressed, stole away before dessert, and Mrs. Da Souza soon followed her, very massive, and frowning with an air of offended dignity. Da Souza, who opened the door for them, returne
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CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XIX
Ernestine found a letter on her plate a few mornings afterwards which rather puzzled her. It was from a firm of solicitors in Lincoln's Inn—the Eastchester family solicitors—requesting her to call that morning to see them on important business. There was not a hint as to the nature of it, merely a formal line or two and a signature. Ernestine, who had written insulting letters to all her relatives during the last few days, smiled as she laid it down. Perhaps the family had called upon Mr. Cuthbe
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CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XX
Ernestine walked from Lincoln's Inn to the office of the Hour, where she stayed until nearly four. Then, having finished her day's work, she made her way homewards. Davenant was waiting for her in her rooms. She greeted him with some surprise. “You told me that I might come to tea,” he reminded her. “If you're expecting any one else, or I'm in the way at all, don't mind saying so, please!” She shook her head. “I'm certainly not expecting any one,” she said. “To tell you the truth my visiting-lis
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CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXI
Ernestine was a delightful hostess, she loved situations, and her social tact was illimitable. In a few minutes Trent was seated in a comfortable and solid chair with a little round table by his side, drinking tea and eating buttered scones, and if not altogether at his ease very nearly so. Opposite him was Davenant, dying to escape yet constrained to be agreeable, and animated too with a keen, distasteful curiosity to watch Ernestine's methods. And Ernestine herself chatted all the time, diffus
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CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXII
“Mr. Scarlett Trent, the Gold King, left for Africa on Thursday last on the Dunottar Castle, to pay a brief visit to his wonderful possessions there before the great Bekwando Mining and Exploration Company is offered to the public. Mr. Trent is already a millionaire, and should he succeed in floating the Company on the basis of the Prospectus, he will be a multi-millionaire, and certainly one of the richest of Englishmen. During his absence workmen are to be kept going night and day at his wonde
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CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIII
After six weeks' incessant throbbing the great engines were still, and the Dunottar Castle lay at anchor a mile or two from the African coast and off the town of Attra. The heat, which in motion had been hard enough to bear, was positively stifling now. The sun burned down upon the glassy sea and the white deck till the varnish on the rails cracked and blistered, and the sweat streamed like water from the faces of the labouring seamen. Below at the ship's side half a dozen surf boats were waitin
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CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXIV
An old man, with his face turned to the sea, was making a weary attempt at digging upon a small potato patch. The blaze of the tropical sun had become lost an hour or so before in a strange, grey mist, rising not from the sea, but from the swamps which lay here and there—brilliant, verdant patches of poison and pestilence. With the mist came a moist, sticky heat, the air was fetid. Trent wiped the perspiration from his forehead and breathed hard. This was an evil moment for him. Monty turned rou
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CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXV
On the summit of a little knoll, with a pipe between his teeth and his back against a palm-tree, Trent was lounging away an hour of the breathless night. Usually a sound sleeper, the wakefulness, which had pursued him from the instant his head had touched his travelling pillow an hour or so back, was not only an uncommon occurrence, but one which seemed proof against any effort on his part to overcome it. So he had risen and stolen away from the little camp where his companions lay wrapped in he
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CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVI
It was Trent himself who kept watch through that last long hour of moonlit darkness till the wan morning broke. With its faint, grey streaks came the savages of Bekwando, crawling up in a semicircle through the long, rough grass, then suddenly, at a signal, bounding upright with spears poised in their hands—an ugly sight in the dim dawn for men chilled with the moist, damp air and only half-awake. But Trent had not been caught napping. His stealthy call to arms had aroused them in time at least
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CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVII
A fortnight afterwards Trent rode into Attra, pale, gaunt, and hollow-eyed. The whole history of those days would never be known by another man! Upon Trent they had left their mark for ever. Every hour of his time in this country he reckoned of great value—yet he had devoted fourteen days to saving the life of John Francis. Such days too—and such nights! They had carried him sometimes in a dead stupor, sometimes a raving madman, along a wild bush-track across rivers and swamps into the town of G
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CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXVIII
It was then perhaps that Trent fought the hardest battle of his life. The start was made with only a dozen Kru boys, Trent himself, stripped to the shirt, labouring amongst them spade in hand. In a week the fishing boats were deserted, every one was working on the road. The labour was immense, but the wages were magnificent. Real progress was made and the boy's calculations were faultless. Trent used the cable freely. “Have dismissed Cathcart for incompetence—road started—progress magnificent,”
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CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXIX
The attack was a fiasco, the fighting was all over in ten minutes. A hundred years ago the men of Bekwando, who went naked and knew no drink more subtle than palm wine had one virtue—bravery. But civilisation pressing upon their frontiers had brought Oom Sam greedy for ivory and gold, and Oom Sam had bought rum and strong waters. The nerve of the savage had gone, and his muscle had become a flaccid thing. When they had risen from the long grass with a horrid yell and had rushed in upon the hated
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CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXX
MY DEAR AUNT ERNIE,—At last I have a chance of sending you a letter—and, this time at any rate, you won't have to complain about my sending you no news. I'll promise you that, before I begin, and you needn't get scared either, because it's all good. I've been awfully lucky, and all because that fellow Cathcart turned out such a funk and a bounder. It's the oddest thing in the world too, that old Cis should have written me to pick up all the news I could about Scarlett Trent and send it to you. W
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CHAPTER XXXI
CHAPTER XXXI
A special train from Southampton had just steamed into Waterloo with the passengers from the Royal Mail steamer Ophir. Little groups of sunburnt men were greeting old friends upon the platform, surrounded by piles of luggage, canvas trunks and steamer chairs. The demand for hansoms was brisk, cab after cab heavily loaded was rolling out of the yard. There were grizzled men and men of fair complexion, men in white helmets and puggarees, and men in silk hats. All sorts were represented there, from
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CHAPTER XXXII
CHAPTER XXXII
“You are very smart, Ernestine,” he said, looking her admiringly. “One must be smart at Ascot,” she answered, “or stay away.” “I've just heard some news,” he continued. “Yes?” “Who do you think is here?” She glanced at him sideways under her lace parasol. “Every one I should think.” “Including,” he said, “Mr. Scarlett Trent!” She grew a shade paler, and leaned for a moment against the rail of the paddock in which they were lounging. “I thought,” she said, “that the Mazetta Castle was not due til
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CHAPTER XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIII
Trent had done many brave things in his life, but he had never been conscious of such a distinct thrill of nervousness as he experienced during those few minutes' silence. Ernestine, for her part, was curiously exercised in her mind. He had shaken her faith in his guilt—he had admitted her to his point of view. She judged herself from his standpoint, and the result was unpleasant. She had a sudden impulse to tell him the truth, to reveal her identity, tell him her reasons for concealment. Perhap
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CHAPTER XXXIV
CHAPTER XXXIV
“And now,” she said, rising, “you really must take me to Lady Tresham! They will think that I am lost.” “Are you still at your rooms?” he asked. She nodded. “Yes, only I'm having them spring-cleaned for a few days. I am staying at Tresham House.” “May I come and see you there?” The man's quiet pertinacity kindled a sort of indignation in her. The sudden weakness in her defences was unbearable. “I think not,” she answered shortly. “You don't know Lady Tresham, and they might not approve. Lady Tre
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CHAPTER XXXV
CHAPTER XXXV
Da Souza's office was neither furnished nor located with the idea of impressing casual visitors. It was in a back-street off an alley, and although within a stone's throw of Lothbury its immediate surroundings were not exhilarating. A blank wall faced it, a green-grocer's shop shared with a wonderful, cellar-like public-house the honour of its more immediate environment. Trent, whose first visit it was, looked about him with surprise mingled with some disgust. He pushed open the swing door and f
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CHAPTER XXXVI
CHAPTER XXXVI
The old man and the girl were equally terrified, both without cause. Da Souza forgot for a moment to be angry at his daughter's disobedience; and was quick to see that her presence there was all to his advantage. Monty, as white as death, was stricken dumb to see Trent. He sank back gasping into a chair. Trent came up to him with outstretched hands and with a look of keen pity in his hard face. “Monty, old chap,” he said, “what on earth are you scared at? Don't you know I'm glad to see you! Didn
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CHAPTER XXXVII
CHAPTER XXXVII
“From a conversational point of view,” Lady Tresham remarked, “our guest to-night seems scarcely likely to distinguish himself.” Ernestine looked over her fan across the drawing-room. “I have never seen such an alteration in a man,” she said, “in so short a time. This morning he amazed me. He knew the right people and did the right things—carried himself too like a man who is sure of himself. To-night he is simply a booby.” “Perhaps it is his evening clothes,” Lady Tresham remarked, “they take s
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CHAPTER XXXVIII
CHAPTER XXXVIII
The carriage drew up at the theatre and he handed her out—a little awkwardly perhaps, but without absolute clumsiness. They found all the rest of the party already in their seats and the curtain about to go up. They took the two end stalls, Trent on the outside. One chair only, next to him, remained unoccupied. “You people haven't hurried,” Lady Tresham remarked, leaning forward. “We are in time at any rate,” Ernestine answered, letting her cloak fall upon the back of the stall. The curtain was
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CHAPTER XXXIX
CHAPTER XXXIX
Scarcely a word passed between the two men until they found themselves in the smoking-room of Trent's house. A servant noiselessly arranged decanters and cigars upon the sideboard, and, in response to an impatient movement of Trent's, withdrew. Francis lit a cigarette. Trent, contrary to his custom, did not smoke. He walked to the door and softly locked it. Then he returned and stood looking down at his companion. “Francis,” he said, “you have been my enemy since the day I saw you first in Bekwa
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CHAPTER XL
CHAPTER XL
A little earlier than usual next morning Trent was at his office in the City, prepared for the worst, and in less than half an hour he found himself face to face with one of those crises known to most great financiers at some time or other during their lives. His credit was not actually assailed, but it was suspended. The general public did not understand the situation, even those who were in a measure behind the scenes found it hard to believe that the attack upon the Bekwando Gold and Land sha
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CHAPTER XLI
CHAPTER XLI
She looked at him calmly, but in her set, white face he seemed to read already his sentence! “Do you think it worth while, Mr. Trent? There is so much, as you put it, to be explained, that the task, even to a man of your versatility, seems hopeless!” “I shall not trouble you long,” he said. “At least one man's word should be as good as another's—and you have listened to what my enemy”—he motioned towards Francis—“has to say.” Francis shrugged his shoulders. “I can assure you,” he interrupted, “t
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CHAPTER XLII
CHAPTER XLII
With the darkness had come a wind from the sea, and the boy crept outside in his flannels and planter's hat and threw himself down in a cane chair with a little murmur of relief. Below him burned the white lights of the town, a little noisier than usual to-night, for out in the bay a steamer was lying-to, and there had been a few passengers and cargo to land. The boy had had a hard day's work, or he would have been in the town himself to watch for arrivals and wait for the mail. He closed his ey
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