Chapter 3 of An African Millionaire. Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel Clay. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kirsten Weber. Chapter 3 of An African Millionaire. Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel Clay. By Grant Allen. The episode of the Old Master. Like most South Africans, Sir Charles Van Drift is anything but sedentary. He hates sitting down. He must always trek. He cannot live without moving about freely. Six weeks in Mayfair at a time is as much as he can stand. Then he must run away incontinently for rest and change. To Scotland, Hamburg, Monte Carlo, Biarritz. I won't be a limpid on a rock, he says. Thus it came to pass that in the early autumn we found ourselves stopping at the Metropole in Brighton. We were the accustomed nice little family party. Sir Charles and Amelia, myself and Isabelle, with the sweet as usual. On the first Sunday morning after our arrival we strolled out, Charles and I, I regret to say during the hours allotted for divine service, on to the King's Road to get a whiff of fresh air and a glimpse of the waves that were churning the Channel. The two ladies with their bonnets had gone to church, but Sir Charles had risen late, fatigued from the week's toil, while I myself was suffering from a metutonal headache, which I attributed to the close air in the billiard room overnight, combined perhaps with the insidious effect of a brand of soda water to which I was little accustomed. I had used it to dilute my evening whisky. We were to meet our wives afterwards at the church parade, an institution to which I believe both Amelia and Isabelle attach even greater importance than to the sermon which precedes it. We sat down on a glass seat. Charles gazed inquiringly up and down the King's Road on the lookout for a boy with Sunday papers. At last one passed. Observer, my brother-in-law, called out leconically, ain't got none, the boy answered, brandishing his bundle in our faces. Have a referee or a pinken? Charles, however, is not a refer-reader, while as to the pinken he considers it unsuitable for public perusal on Sunday morning. It may be read indoors, but in the open air its blush betrays it. So he shook his hand and muttered, if you pass an observer, send him on ear at once to meet. A polite stranger who sat close to us turned round with a pleasant smile. Would you allow me to offer you one, he said, drawing a copy from his pocket? I fancy I bought the last. There's a run on them today. You see, important news this morning from the Transvaal. Charles raised his eyebrows and accepted it, as I thought, just a trifle grumpoli. So to remove the false impression his surliness might produce on so benevolent a mind, I entered into conversation with the polite stranger. He was a man of middle age and medium height, with a cultivated air and a pair of gold pass-nay. His eyes were sharp, his voice was refined, he dropped in to talk before long about distinguished people just then in Brighton. It was clear at once that he was hand in glove with many of the very best kind. We compared notes as to Nice, Rome, Florence, Cairo. Our new acquaintance had scores of friends in common with us, it seemed. Indeed, our circles so largely coincided that I wondered we had never happened till then to knock up against one another. And, Sir Charles Van Drift, the great African millionaire, he said at last, do you know anything of him? I'm told he's at present down here at the Mitropole. I waved my hand towards the person in question. This is Sir Charles Van Drift. I answered with proprietary pride, and I am his brother-in-law, Mr. Seymour Wentworth. Oh, indeed, the stranger answered, with a curious air of drawing in his horns. I wondered whether he had just been going to pretend he knew Sir Charles, or whether, perchance, he was on the point of saying something highly uncomplementary and was glad to have escaped it. By this time, however, Charles laid down the paper and chimed into our conversation. I could see at once, from his mollified tone, that the news from the transphal was favorable to his operations in Chloeta Dorpgulcondus. He was therefore in a friendly and affable temper. His whole manner changed at once. He grew polite in return to the polite stranger. Besides, we knew the man moved in the best society. He had acquaintances whom Amelia was most anxious to secure for her at-homes in Mayfair. Young Faith, the novelist, and Sir Richard Montrose, the great Arctic traveler. As for the painters, it was clear that he was sworn friends with the whole lot of them. He dined with the academicians and gave weekly breakfasts to the members of the Institute. Now, Amelia is particularly desirous that her salon should not be considered too exclusively financial and political in character. With a solid basis of MPs and millionaires, she loves a delicate undercurrent of literature, art, and musical glasses. Our new acquaintance was extremely communicative. Knows his place in society, see, Sir Charles said to me afterwards, and is therefore not afraid of talking freely, as so many people are who have doubts about their position. We exchanged cards before we rose. Our new friend's name turned out to be Dr. Edward Pulpero. In practice here, I inquired, though his guard belighted. Oh, not medical, he answered. I'm an LLD, don't you know? I interest myself in art and buy to some extent for the National Gallery. The very man for Amelia's at-homes, so Charles snapped at him instantly. I brought my foreign hand down here with me, he said, in his best friendly manner, and we think of tooling over tomorrow to lose. If you'd care to take a seat, I'm sure Lady Van Drift would be charged to see you. You're very kind, the doctor said. I'm so casual in introduction. I'm sure I shall be delighted. We start from the Metropole at 10.30, Charles went on. I shall be there. Good morning. And with a satisfied smile, he rose and left us, nodding. We returned to the lawn to Amelia and Isabel. Our new friend passed us once or twice, Charles stopped him and introduced him. He was walking with two ladies, most elegantly dressed in rather peculiar artistic dresses. Amelia was taken at first sight by his manner. One could see at a glance, she said, he was a person of culture and of real distinction. I wonder whether he could bring the PRA to my parliamentary at home on Wednesday, Fortnight. Next day, at 10.30, we started on our drive. Our team has been considered the best in Sussex. Charles is an excellent, though somewhat anxious, or, might I better say, somewhat careful whip. He finds the management of two leaders and two wheelers, fills his hands for the moment, both literally and figuratively, leaving very little time for general conversation. Lady Belial of Beacon bloomed beside him on the box. Her bloom is perennial and applied by her maid. Dr. Pulpero occupied the seat just behind with myself and Amelia. The doctor talked most of the time to Lady Van Drift. His discourse was of picture galleries, which Amelia detests, but in which she thinks it incumbent upon her, as Sir Charles' wife, to affect now and then a cultivated interest. No bless oblige. And the walls of Castle Selden, our place in Rothscher, are almost covered now with leaders and with orchardsons. This result was first arrived at by a singular accident. Sir Charles wanted a leader, for his coach, you understand, and told an artistic friend so. The artistic friend brought him a leader next week with a capital L, and Sir Charles was so taken aback that he felt ashamed to confess the error, so he was turned unawares into a patron of painting. Dr. Pulpero, in spite of his two pronouncedly artistic talk, proved on closer view a most agreeable companion. He diversified his art cleverly with anecdotes and scandals. He told us exactly which famous painters had married their cooks, and which had only married their models, and otherwise showed himself a most diverting talker. Among other things, however, he happened to mention once that he had recently discovered a genuine Rembrandt, a quite undoubted Rembrandt, which had remained for years in the keeping of a certain obscure Dutch family. It had always been allowed to be a masterpiece of the painter, but it had seldom been seen for the last half-century, saved by a few intimate acquaintances. It was a portrait of one Maria van Rennen of Haarlem, and he had bought it of her descendants at Uda in Holland. I saw Charles prick up his ears, though he took no open notice. This Maria van Rennen, as it happened, was a remote, collateral ancestress of the van drifts, before they emigrated to the Cape in 1780, and the existence of the portrait, though not its whereabouts, was well known in the family. Isabel had often mentioned it. If it was to be had at anything like a reasonable price, it would be a splendid thing for the boys, Sir Charles, I ought to say, has two sons at Eaton, to possess an undoubted portrait of an ancestress by Rembrandt. Dr. Pulpero talked a good deal, after that, about this valuable find. He had tried to sell it at first to the National Gallery, but though the directors admired the work immensely and admitted its genuineness, they regretted that the funds at their disposal this year did not permit them to acquire so important a canvas at a proper figure. South Kensington again was too poor, but the doctor was in treaty at present with the Louvre and with Berlin. Still, it was a pity a fine work of art like that, once brought into the country, should be allowed to go out of it. Some patriotic patron of the fine arts ought to buy it for his own house, or else, munificently presented to the nation. All the time Charles said nothing, but I could feel him cogitating. He even looked behind him once, near a difficult corner, while the guard was actually engaged in tootling his horn to let passers-by know that the coach was coming, and gave Amelia a warning glance to say nothing committing, which had at once the requisite effect of sealing her mouth for the moment. It is a very unusual thing for Charles to look back while driving. I gathered from his doing so that he was inordinately anxious to possess this Rembrandt. When we arrived at Louvre, we put up our horses at the inn and Charles ordered a lunch on his wanted scale of princely magnificence. Meanwhile we wandered, two and two, about the town and castle. I annexed Lady Bell Isle, who is at least very amusing. Charles drew me aside before starting. Look here, see? He said, we must be very careful. This man, Pulpero, is a chance acquaintance. There's nothing an astute rogue can take one in over more easily than an old master. If the Rembrandt is genuine, I ought to have it. If it really represents Maria Van Renen, it is a duty I owe to the boys to buy it. But I've been done twice lately and I won't be done a third time. We must go to work cautiously. You are right, I answered. No more seers and curates. If this man's an imposter, Charles went on, and in spite of what he says about the National Gallery and so forth, we know nothing of him, the story he tells is just the sort of one such a fellow would trump up in a moment to deceive me. He could easily learn who I was. I'm a well-known figure. He knew I was in Brighton and he may have been sitting on that glass seat on Sunday on purpose to entrap me. He introduced your name, I said, and the moment he found out who I was, he plunged in to talk with me. Yes, Charles continued, he may have learned about the portrait of Maria Van Renen, which my grandmother always said was preserved at Gouda and indeed I myself have often mentioned it as you Dallas remember. If so, what more natural say for a rogue than to be in talking about the portrait in that innocent way to Amelia? If he wants a Rembrandt, I believe they can be turned out to order to any amount in Birmingham. The moral of all which is, it behooves us to be careful. Right you are, I answered, and I am keeping my eye upon him. We drove back by another road, overshadowed by beech trees in autumnal gold. It was a delightful excursion. Dr. Pulpero's heart was elated by lunch and the excellent dry monopole. He talked amazingly. I never heard a man with a greater or more varied flow of anecdote. He had been everywhere and knew all about everybody. Amelia booked him at once for her at home on Wednesday week and he promised to introduce her to several artistic and literary celebrities. That evening, however, about half past seven, Charles and I strolled out together on the King's Road for a blow before dinner. We dine at eight. The air was delicious. We passed a small new hotel, very smart and exclusive, with a big bow window. There, in evening dress, lights burning and blind up, sat our friend, Dr. Pulpero, with a lady facing him, young, graceful and pretty. A bottle of champagne stood open before him. He was helping himself, plentifully, to hot-house grapes and full of good humor. It was clear he and the lady were occupied in the intense enjoyment of some capital joke, or they looked clearly at one another and burst now and again into merry peals of laughter. I drew back. So did Charles. One idea passed at once through both our minds. I murmured. Colonel Clay. He answered. And Madame Piccadilly. They were not in the least like the Reverend Richard and Mrs. Brabazan, but that clinched the matter. Nor did I see a sign of the aquiline nose of the Mexican seer. Still, I had learnt by then to discount appearances. If these were indeed the famous Sharper and his wife or accomplice, we must be very careful. We were forewarned this time. Supposing he had the audacity to try a third trick of the sort upon us, we had him under our thumbs. Only we must take steps to prevent his dexterously slipping through our fingers. He can wriggle like an eel, said the commissary at Nice. We both recalled these words and laid our plans deep to prevent the man's wriggling away from us this third occasion. I tell you what it is, see? My brother-in-law said with impressive slowness, this time we must deliberately lay ourselves out to be swindled. We must propose of our own accord to buy the picture, making him guarantee it in writing as a genuine rembrandt and taking care to tie him down by most stringent conditions. But we must seem, at the same time, to be unsuspicious and innocent as babes. We must swallow whole whatever lies he tells us, pay his price nominally by check for the portrait and then arrest him the moment the bargain is complete with the proofs of his guilt then and there upon him. Of course, what he'll try to do will be to vanish into thin air at once as he did at Nice and Paris. But this time, we'll have the police in waiting and everything ready. We'll avoid precipitancy, but we'll avoid delay too.  That's my plan of campaign. Meanwhile, we should appear all trustful innocence and confiding guilelessness. In pursuance of this well-laid scheme, we called next day on Dr. Polpero at his hotel and were introduced to his wife, a dainty little woman in whom we affected not to recognize that arch-madame Picardet or that simple white heather. The doctor talked charmingly, as usual, about art, what a well-informed rascal he was to be sure. And Sir Charles expressed some interest in this supposed Rembrandt. Our new friend was delighted. We could see by his well-suppressed eagerness of tone that he knew us at once for probable purchasers. He would run up to town next day, he said, and bring down the portrait. And in effect, when Charles and I took our wanted places in the Pullman next morning, on our way up to the half-yearly meeting of the Chloe-to-Dorp Gull-Condas, there was our doctor leaning back in his armchair as if the car belonged to him. Charles gave me an expressive look. Does it in style? He whispered, doesn't he? Takes it out of my five thousand. Or discounts the amount he means to chaps me of with his furious Rembrandt. Arrived in town, we went to work at once. We set a private detective from Marvilliers to watch our friend, and from him we learned that the so-called doctor dropped in for a picture that day at a dealer's in the West End. I suppressed the name, having a judicious fear of the law of libel ever before my eyes. A dealer who was known to be mixed up before then in several shady or disreputable transactions. Though to be sure my experience has been that picture dealers are picture dealers. Horses rank first in my mind as begetters and producers of unscrupulous agents, but pictures run them a very good second. Anyhow, we found out that our distinguished art critic, picked up his Rembrandt at this dealer's shop and came down with it in his care the same night to brighten. In order not to act precipitately and so ruin our plans, we induced Dr. Pulpero, what a cleverly chosen name, to bring the Rembrandt round to the metropole for our inspection and leave it with us while we got the opinion of an expert from London. The expert came down and gave us a full report upon the alleged old master. In his judgment it was not a Rembrandt at all, but a cunningly painted and well-begrimed modern Dutch imitation. Moreover, he showed us by documentary evidence that the real portrait of Maria Van Renen had, as a matter of fact, been brought to England five years before and sold to Sir J. H. Tomlinson, a well-known connoisseur, for 8,000 pounds. Dr. Pulpero's picture was, therefore, at best either a replica by Rembrandt or else, more probably, a copy by a pupil or, most likely of all, a mere modern forgery. We were thus well-prepared to fasten our charge of criminal conspiracy upon the self-siled doctor. But in order to make assurances still more certain, we threw out vague hints to him that the portrait of Maria Van Renen might really be elsewhere and even suggested in his hearing that it might not improbably have got into the hands of that omnivorous collector, Sir J. H. Tomlinson. But the vendor was proof against all such attempts to decry his goods. He had the effrontery to brush away the documentary evidence and to declare that Sir J. H. Tomlinson, one of the most learned and astute picture buyers in England, had been smartly imposed upon by a needy Dutch artist with a talent for forgery. The real Maria Van Renen, he declared and swore, was the one he offered us. Success has turned the man's head, Charles said to me well pleased.  But the bucket has come once too often to the well. This time we Jack made him. It was a mixed metaphor, I admit, but Sir Charles's tropes are not always entirely superior to criticism. So we pretended to believe our man and accepted his assurances. Next came the question of price. This was warmly debated for form's sake only. Sir J. H. Tomlinson had paid eight thousand for his genuine Maria. The doctor demanded ten thousand for his spurious one. There was really no reason why we should haggle and dispute for Charles meant merely to give his check for the sum and then arrest the fellow. But still we thought it best for the avoidance of suspicion to make a show of resistance. And we at last beat him down to nine thousand guineas. For this amount he was to give us a written warranty that the work he sold us was a genuine rembrandt that it represented Maria Van Renen of Harlem and that he had bought it direct without doubt or question from that good lady's descendants at Gouda in Holland. It was capital done. We arranged the thing to perfection. We had a constable in waiting in our rooms at the Metropole and we settled that Dr. Pulpera was to call at the hotel at a certain fixed hour to sign the warranty and receive his money. A regular agreement on sound stamped paper was drawn out between us. At the appointed time the party of the first part came having already given us over possession of the portrait. Charles drew a check for the amount agreed upon and signed it. Then he handed it to the doctor. Pulpera just clutched at it. Meanwhile I took up my post by the door while two men in plain clothes, detectives from the police station, stood as men servants and watched the windows. We feared lest the imposter, once he had got the check, should dodge us somehow as he had already done at Nice and in Paris. The moment he had pocketed his money with a smile of triumph I advanced to him rapidly. I had in my possession a pair of handcuffs. Before he knew what was happening I had slipped them on his wrists and secured them dexterously while the constable stepped forward. We have got you this time. I cried. We know who you are, Dr. Pulpera. You are Colonel Clay, alias Senor Antonio Herrera, alias the Reverend Richard Piplo Brabazon. He was utterly flabbergasted. Charles thought he must have expected to get clear away at once and that this prompt action on our part had taken the fellow so much by surprise as simply to unman him. He gazed about him as if he hardly realized what was happening. Are these two raving maniacs, he asked at last, or what do they mean by this nonsensical gibberish about Antonio Herrera? The constable laid his hand on the prisoner's shoulder. It's all right, my man, he said. We've got warrants out against you. I arrest you, Edward Pulpero, alias the Reverend Richard Piplo Brabazon, on a charge of obtaining money under false pretenses from Sir Charles Van Drift, KCMG, MP, on his sworn information now here subscribed to. For Charles had had the thing drawn out in readiness beforehand. Our prisoner drew himself up. Look here, officer, he said in an offended tone. There's some mistake here in this matter. I have never given an alias at any time in my life. How do you know this is really Sir Charles Van Drift? It may be a case of bullying personation. My belief is, though, they're a pair of escaped lunatics. We'll see about that tomorrow, the constable said, collaring him. At present, you've got to go off with me quietly to the station where these gentlemen will enter up the charge against you. They carried him off, protesting. Charles and I signed the charge sheet, and the officer locked him up to await his examination next day before the magistrate. We were half afraid, even now, the fellow would manage somehow to get out on bail and give us the slip in spite of everything, and indeed he protested in the most violent manner against the treatment to which we were subjecting a gentleman in his position. But Charles took care to tell the police it was all right, that he was a dangerous and peculiarly slippery criminal, and that on no account must they let him go on any pretext whatever, till he had been properly examined before the magistrates. We learned at the hotel that night, curiously enough, that there really was a Dr. Paul Perot, a distinguished art critic, whose name we didn't doubt our imposter had been assuming. Next morning, when we reached the court, an inspector met us with a very long face. Look here, gentlemen. He said, I'm afraid you've committed a very serious blunder. You've made a precious bad mess of it. You've got yourselves into a scrape, and what's worse, you've got us into one also. You were a deal too smart with your sworn information. We've made inquiries about this gentleman, and we find the account he gives of himself is perfectly correct. His name is Paul Perot. He's a well-known art critic and collector of pictures, employed abroad by the National Gallery. He was formerly an official in the South Kensington Museum, and he's a CB and LLD, very highly respected. You've made a sad mistake. That's where it is, and you'll probably have to answer a charge of false imprisonment, in which I'm afraid you have also involved our own department. Charles gasped with horror. You haven't let him out, he cried, on those absurd representations. You haven't let him slip through your hands, as you did the murderer fellow. Let him slip through our hands, the inspector cried. I only wish he would. There's no chance of that, unfortunately. He's in the court there this moment, breathing out fire and slaughter against you both. And we're here to protect you if he should happen to fall upon you. He's been locked up all night on your mistaken affidavits, and naturally enough, he's mad with anger. If you haven't let him go, I'm satisfied, Charles answered. He's a fox for cunning. Where is he? Let me see him. We went into the court. There we saw our prisoner conversing amicably in the most excited way with the magistrate, who it seems was a personal friend of his, and Charles at once went up and spoke to them. Dr. Pulpero turned round and glared at him through his past name. The only possible explanation of this person's extraordinary and incredible conduct, he said, is that he must be mad, and his secretary equally so. He made my acquaintance, unasked, on a glass seat on the King's Road, invited me to go on his coach to lose, volunteered to buy a valuable picture of me, and then, at the last moment, unaccountably, gave me in charge on this silly and preposterous trumped-up accusation. I demand a summons for false imprisonment. Suddenly, it began to dawn upon us that the tables were turned. By degrees, it came out that we had made a mistake. Dr. Pulpero was really the person he represented himself to be and had been always. His picture, we found out, was the real Maria Van Renen and a genuine Rembrandt, which he had merely deposited for cleaning and restoring at the suspicious dealers. Sir J. H. Tomlinson had been imposed upon and cheated by a cunning Dutchman. His picture, though also an undoubted Rembrandt, was not the Maria and was an inferior specimen in bad preservation.  The Maria, moreover, was valued by other experts at no more than five or six thousand kinnies. Charles wanted to cry off his bargain, but Dr. Pulpero naturally wouldn't hear of it. The agreement was a legally binding instrument, and what passed in Charles' mind at that moment had nothing to do with the written contract. Our adversary only consented to forego the action for false imprisonment on condition that Charles inserted a printed apology in the Times and paid him five hundred pounds compensation for damage to character. So, that was the end of our well-planned attempt to arrest the swindler. Not quite the end, however, for, of course, after this the whole affair got by degrees into the papers. Dr. Pulpero, who was a familiar person in literary and artistic society, as it turned out, brought an action against the so-called expert who had declared against the genuineness of his alleged Rembrandt and convicted him of the grossest ignorance and misstatement. Then paragraphs got about. The world showed us up in a sarcastic article, and truth, which has always been terribly severe upon Charles and all other South Africans, had a pungent set of verses on high art in Kimberley. By this means, as we suppose, the affair became known to Colonel Clay himself for a week or two later my brother-in-law received a cheerful little note on scented paper from our persistent sharper. It was couched in these terms.  And is it true its respected name is Sir Simple Simon?  It would pay you, by the way, to take White Heather into your house for six months to instruct you in the agreeable sport of amateur detectives. Your charming naivete quite moves our envy.  And this in the so-called 19th century. Oh, sancta simplicitas, when again shall such infantile transparency be mine? When I win. But never mind a dear friend. Though you didn't catch me, we shall meet before along at some delightful Philippine. Yours with the profoundest respect and gratitude. Antonio Herrera, otherwise Richard Peplo Brabazon. Charles laid down the letter with a deep, drawn sigh. See, my boy, he mused aloud, no fortune on earth, not even mine, can go on standing it. These perpetual drains begin really to terrify me. I foresee the end. I shall die in a workhouse. What with the money he rubs me of when he is Colonel Clay and the money I waste upon him when he isn't Colonel Clay the man is beginning to tell upon my nervous system. I shall withdraw altogether from this worrying life. I shall retire from a scheming and polluted world to some untainted spot in the fresh, pure mountains. You must need rest and change, I said, when you talk like that. Let us try the Tyrol. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of an African Millionaire Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel Clay This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org An African Millionaire Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel Clay by Grant Allen Chapter 4 The Episode of the Tyrolean Castle We went to Moran. The place was practically decided for us by Amelia's French maid who really acts on such occasions as our guide Courier.  Whenever we are going anywhere, Amelia generally asks and accepts her advice as to choice of hotels and furnished villas. Siserine has been all over the continent in her time and, being Alsatian by birth, she of course speaks German as well as she speaks French. While her long residence with Amelia has made her at last almost equally at home in our native English. She is a treasure that girl, so neat and dexterous and not above dabbling in anything on earth she may be asked to turn her hand to. She walks the world with a needle case in one hand and an etna in the other. She can cook an omelet on occasion or drive a Norwegian carrion. She can sew, knit and make dresses and cure a cold and do anything else on earth you ask her. Her salads are the most savoury I ever tasted. While as for her coffee, which she prepares for us in the train on long journeys there isn't a chef de cuisine at a West End Club to be named in the same day with her. So, when Amelia said, in her imperious way Siserine, we want to go to the Tyrol now at once, in mid-October. Where do you advise us to put up? Siserine answered, like a shot. The Etz-Herzog-Johann, of course, that may ran for the autumn, madame. Is he an archduke? Amelia asked, a little staggered at such apparent familiarity with imperial personages. Ma foie, no madame. He is an Odell, as you would say in England. The Victoria, or the Prince of Waleses. The most comfortable hotel in all South Tyrol. And at this time of year, naturally, you must go beyond the Alps. It begins already to be cold at Innsbruck. So, to Moran, we went. And a prettier or more picturesque place, I confess, I have seldom set eyes on. A rushing torrent, high hills and mountain peak, terraced vineyard slopes, old walls and towers, quaint arcaded streets, a craggy waterfall, a promenade after the fashion of a German spa, and when you lift your eyes from the ground, jagged summits of dolomites. It was a combination such as I had never before beheld, a wrined town plumped down among green alpine heights and threaded by the cool colonnades of Italy. I approved Siserine's choice, and I was particularly glad she had pronounced for an hotel, where all is plain sailing, instead of advising a furnished villa, the arrangements of which would naturally have fallen in large part upon the shoulders of the wretched secretary. As in any case, I have to do three hours' work a day, I feel that such additions to my normal burden may well be spared me. I tipped Siserine half sovereign, in fact, for her judicious choice. Siserine glanced at it on her palm, in her mysterious, curious, half-smiling way, and pocketed it at once with a merci-monsieur that had a touch of contempt in it. I always fancy Siserine has large ideas of her own on the subject of tipping and thinks very small bear of the modest sums a mere secretary can alone afford to bestow upon her. The great peculiarity of Moran is the number of schlosses. I believe my plural is strictly irregular, but very convenient to English ears, which you can see in every direction from its outskirts. A statistical eye, it is supposed, can count no fewer than 40 of these picturesque, ramshackled old castles from a point on the Kuchelberg. For myself, I hate statistics, except as an element in financial prospectuses, and I really don't know how many ruinous piles Isabel and Amelia counted under Siserine's guidance. But I remember that most of them were quaint and beautiful, and that their variety of architecture seemed positively bewildering. One would be square with funny little turrets stuck out at each angle, while another would rejoice in a big, round keep and spread on either side long, ivy-clad walls and delightful bastions. Charles was immensely taken with him. He loves the picturesque and has a poet hidden in that financial soul of his. Very effectively hidden, though, I am ready to grant you. From the moment he came, he felt at once he would love to possess a castle of his own among these romantic mountains. Selden, he exclaimed contemptuously. They call Selden a castle, but you and I know very well, say, it was built in 1860 with sham antique stones for Macpherson of Selden, that market rates by Kubit and Co. Worshipful contractors of London. Macpherson chartered me for that sham antiquity, a preposterous price, at which one ought to procure a real ancestral mansion. Now these castles are real. They are horny with antiquity. Schloss Terolle is Romanesque, 10th or 11th century. He had been reading it up in Bédica. That's the sort of place for me, 10th or 11th century. I could live here remote from stocks and shares forever, and in these sequestered glens, recollects say, my boy, there are no Colonel Clays and no Arch-Madame Picker days. As a matter of fact, he could have lived there six weeks and then tied for Park Lane, Monte Carlo, Brighton. As for Amelia, strange to say, she was equally taken with this new fad of Charles's. As a rule, she hates everywhere on earth save London, except during the time when no respectable person can be seen in town and when modest blinds shade the scandalised face of Mayfair and Belgravia. She bores herself to death, even at Selden Castle, Rosscher, and yawns all day long in Paris or Vienna. She is a confirmed cockney. Yet, for some occult reason, my amiable sister-in-law fell in love with South Tyrol. She wanted to vegetate in that lush vegetation. The grapes were being picked, pumpkins hung over the walls, Virginia creeper draped the quaint gray slosses with crimson cloaks, and everything was as beautiful as a dream of Byrne Joneses. I know I am quite right in mentioning Byrne Jones, especially in connection with Romanesque architecture, because I heard him highly praised on that very ground by our friend and enemy, Dr. Edward Polpero. So perhaps it was excusable that Amelia should fall in love with it all under the circumstances. Besides, she is largely influenced by what Caesarean says, and Caesarean declares there is no climate in Europe like Moran in winter. I do not agree with her. The sun sets behind the hills at three in the afternoon, and a nasty warm wind blows moist over the snow in January and February. However, Amelia sets Caesarean to inquire of the people at the hotel about the market price of tumbledown ruins and the number of such eligible family mausoleums just then for sale in the immediate neighborhood. Caesarean returned with a full, true and particular list, adorned with flowers of rhetoric which would have delighted the soul of good old John Robbins. They were all picturesque, all Romanesque, all richly ivy-clad, all commodious, all historical, and all the property of high, well-born graphs and very honorable fry-hairs. Most of them had been the scene of celebrated tournaments. Several of them had witnessed the gorgeous marriages of holy Roman emperors, and every one of them was provided with some choice and selected first-class murders. Ghosts could be arranged for or not as desired, and armory or bearings could be thrown in with a moat for a moderate extra remuneration. The two we liked best of all these tempting piles were Schloss Planter and Schloss Limstein. We drove past both, and even I, myself, I confess, was distinctly taken with them. Besides, when a big purchase like this is on the stock, a poor beggar of a secretary has always a chance of exerting his influence and earning for himself some modest commission. Schloss Planter was the most striking externally, I should say, with its Rhine-like towers and its great gnarled ivy stems that looked as if they antedated the house of Habsburg. But Limstein was said to be better preserved within and more fitted in every way for modern occupation. Its staircase has been photographed by 7,000 amateurs. We got tickets to view. The invaluable Césarine procured them for us. Armed with these, we drove off one fine afternoon, meaning to go to Planter by Césarine's recommendation. Halfway there, however, we changed our minds as it was such a lovely day and went on up the long, slow hill to Limstein. I must say the drive through the grounds was simply charming. The castle stands perched, say rather poised, like St. Michael the Archangel in Italian pictures, on a solitary stack or crag of rock, looking down on every side upon its own rich vineyards. Chestnuts lie in the glens. The valley of the edge spreads below like a picture. The vineyards alone make a splendid estate, by the way. They produce a delicious red wine which is exported to Bordeaux and they're bottled and sold as a vintage claret under the name of Chateau Monivé. Charles reveled in the idea of growing his own wines. Here we could sit, he cried to Amelia, in the most literal sense, under our own vine and fig tree. Delicious retirement. For my part, I'm sick and tired of the hubbub of Threadneedle Street. We knocked at the door, for there was really no bell, but a ponderous old-fashioned wrought iron knocker. So did Niciously Bedevil. The late Graf von Liebemstein had recently died, we knew, and his son, the present Count, a young man of means, having inherited from his mother's family a still more ancient and splendid sloss in the Salzburg district, desired to sell this outlying estate in order to afford himself a yacht after the manor that is now becoming increasingly fashionable with the noblemen and gentlemen in Germany and Austria. The door was opened for us by a high, well-born menial that tied in a very ancient and honourable livery. Nice antique hall, suits of ancestral armour, trophies of Tirelli's hunters, coats of arms of ancient counts, the very thing to take Amelia's aristocratic and romantic fancy, the hole to be sold exactly as it stood, ancestors to be included at evaluation. We went through the reception rooms. They were lofty, charming, and with glorious use all the more glorious for being framed by those grisful Romanesque windows with their slender pillars and coint round-topped arches. Sir Charles had made his mind up. I must and will have it, he cried. This is the place for me. Selden! Pa! Selden is a modern abomination. Could we see the high, well-born Count? The livery's servant, somewhat hortily, would inquire of his serenity. Sir Charles sent up his card and also Lady Van Drift's. These foreigners know title spells money in England. He was right in his surmise. Two minutes later the Count entered with our cards in his hands. A good-looking young man with the characteristic Tirelli's long black moustache dressed in a gentlemanly variant on the costume of the country. His air was a yeager's.  He waved us to seats. We sat down. He spoke to us in French. His English he remarked with a pleasant smile being a negligible quantity. We might speak it, he went on. He could understand it pretty well, but he preferred to answer if we would allow him in French or German. French Charles replied, and the negotiation continued thenceforth in that language. It is the only one, save English and his ancestral Dutch, with which my brother-in-law possesses even a nodding acquaintance. We praised the beautiful scene. The Count's face lighted up with patriotic pride. Yes, it was beautiful. Beautiful, his own green to roll. He was proud of it and attached to it, but he could endure to sell this place, the home of his father's, because he had a finer in the Zaltskammergut and a péditaire in his Innsbruck. For to roll lacked just one joy, the sea. He was a passionate yachtsman. For that he had resolved to sell this estate. After all, three country houses, a ship, and a mansion in Vienna are more than one man can comfortably inhabit. Exactly, Charles answered. If I can come to terms with you about this charming estate, I shall sell my own castle in the Scotch Highlands.  Then they got to business. The Count was a delightful man to do business with. His manners were perfect. While we were talking to him, a surly person, a steward or bailiff or something of the sort, came into the room unexpectedly and addressed him in German, which none of us understand. We were impressed by the singular obanity and benignity of the nobleman's demeanour towards this sullen dependent. He evidently explained to the fellow what sort of people we were and demonstrated with him in a very gentle way for interrupting us. The steward understood and clearly regretted his insolent air for after a few sentences he went out and as he did so he bowed and made protestations of polite regard in his own language. The Count turned to us and smiled. Our people, he said, are like your own Scotch peasants. Kind-hearted, picturesque, free, musical, poetic, but wanting h'ilath in polish to strangers. He was certainly an exception if you describe them a right for he made us feel at home from the moment we entered. He named his price in frank terms. His lawyers at Moran held the needful documents and would arrange the negotiations in detail with us. It was a stiff sum, I must say, an extremely stiff sum, but no doubt he was charging us a fancy price for a fancy castle. He will come down in time, Charles said. The sum first named in all these transactions is invariably a feeler. They know I'm a millionaire and people always imagine millionaires are positively made of money. I may add that people always imagine it must be easier to squeeze money out of millionaires than out of other people. Which is the reverse of the truth? Or how could they ever have amassed their millions? Instead of oozing gold as a tree oozes gum, they mop it up like blotting paper and seldom give it out again. We drove back from this first interview nonetheless very well satisfied. The price was too high, but preliminaries were arranged and for the rest the Count desired us to discuss all details with his lawyers in the Chief Street, Unterdien-Laube. We inquired about these lawyers and found they were most respectable and respected men. They had done the family business on either side for seven generations. They showed us plans and title deeds, everything quite en règle. Till we came to the price there was no hitch of any sort. As the price, however, the lawyers were obvurate. They stuck out with the Count's first sum to the uttermost Florin. It was a very big estimate. We talked and chile shallied till Sir Charles grew angry. He lost his temper at last. They know I'm a millionaire, see, he said, and they're playing the old game of trying to diddle me, but I won't be diddled. Except Colonel Clay, no man has ever yet succeeded in bleeding me, and shall I let myself be bled as if I were a chamois among these innocent mountains? Perish the thought. Then he reflected a little in silence. See, he mused on at last. The question is, are they innocent? Do you know, I begin to believe there is no such thing left as pristine innocence anywhere. This two-release Count knows the value of a pound as distinctly as if he hung out in Capelcourt or Kimberley. Things dragged on in this way, inconclusively, for a week or two. We bid down, the lawyers stuck to it. Sir Charles grew half-sick of the whole silly business. For my own part, I felt sure if the high, well-born Count didn't quit in his pace, my respected relative would shortly have had enough of the Tyrol altogether, and be proof against the most lovely of crag-crowning castles. But the Count didn't see it. He came to call on us at our hotel, a rare honour for a stranger with these haughty and exclusive Tyrolese nobles, and even entered unannounced in the most friendly manner. But when it came to pounds, shillings, and pence, he was absolutely adamant. Not one coitzer would he abate from his original proposal. You misunderstand, he said with pride. We Tyrolese gentlemen are not shopkeepers or merchants. We do not higgle. If we say a thing, we stick to it.  But as you belong to a great commercial nation, he broke off with a snort and shrugged his shoulders compassionately. We saw him several times, driving in and out of the schloss, and every time he waved his hand at us gracefully. But when we tried to bargain, it was always the same thing. He retired behind the shelter of his Tyrolese nobility. We might take it or leave it to a still schloss Lidmstein. The lawyers were as bad. We tried all we knew and got no for it. At last Charles gave up the attempt in disgust. He was tiring, as I expected. It's the prettiest place I ever saw in my life, he said, Hang it all, see, I won't be imposed upon. So he made up his mind, it being now December, to return to London. We met the Count next day and stopped his carriage and told him so.  The attitude Carl is inquiring about it, he answered, and drove on without Pali. Charles used some strong words which I will not transcribe, I am a family man, and returned to England. For the next two months we heard little from Amelia save her regret that the Count wouldn't sell us schloss Lidmstein. Its pinnacles had fairly pierced her heart. Strange to say, she was absolutely infatuated about the castle. She rather wanted the place while she was there and thought she could get it. Now she thought she couldn't. Her soul, if she has one, was wildly set upon it. Moreover, Cizerine further inflamed her desire by gently hinting a fact which she had picked up at the courier's tabled hook at the hotel that the Count had been far from anxious to sell his ancestral and historical estate to a South African diamond king. He thought the honour of the family demanded at least that he should secure a wealthy buyer of good ancient lineage. One morning in February, however, Amelia returned from the row all smiles and tremors. She been ordered horse exercise to correct the increasing excessiveness of her figure. Who do you think I saw riding in the park? She inquired. Why the Count of Lidmstein? No, Charles exclaimed incredulous. Yes, Amelia answered. Must be mistaken, Charles cried. But Amelia stuck to it. More than that, she sent out emissaries to inquire diligently from the London lawyers whose name had been mentioned to us by the ancestral firm in Unterdynlauben as their English agents as to the whereabouts of our friend. And her emissaries learned in effect, but the Count was in town and stopping at Morley's. I see through it, Charles exclaimed. He finds he's made a mistake and now he's come over here to reopen negotiations. I was all for waiting prudently till the Count made the first move. Don't let him see your eagerness, I said. But Amelia's ardour could not now be restrained. She insisted that Charles should call on the Count as a mere return of his politeness in the Tyrol. He was as charming as ever. He talked to us with delight about the quaintness of London. He would be ravished to die next evening with Sir Charles. He desired his respectful salutations, meanwhile to Millet de Van Drift and Madame Ventworth. He dined with us, almost en famille. Amelia's cook did wonders. In the billiard room about midnight Charles reopened the subject. The Count was really touched. It pleased him that still, amid the distractions of the city of five million souls, we should remember with affection his beloved Leibnstein. Come to my lawyers, he said, tomorrow, and I will talk it all over with you. We went, the most respectable firm in Southampton Row, old family solicitors. They had done business for years for the late Count, who had inherited from his grandmother estates in Ireland, and they were glad to be honoured with the confidence of his successor. Glad, too, to make the acquaintance of a prince of finance like Sir Charles Van Drift. Anxious, rubbing their hands, to arrange matters satisfactorily all round for everybody, two capital families with which to be mixed up, you see. Sir Charles named a price and referred them to his solicitors. The Count named a hire, but still a little come down, and left the matter to be settled between the lawyers. He was a soldier and a gentleman, he said, with the cheerleads' toss of his high-born head, he would abandon details to men of business. As I was really anxious to oblige Amelia, I met the Count accidentally next day on the steps of Morley's, accidentally, that is to say, so far as he was concerned, though I had been hanging about in Trafalgar Square for half an hour to see him. I explained, in guarded terms, they had a great deal of influence in my way with Sir Charles, and that a word from me I broke off. He stared at me blankly.  Well, not exactly commission, I answered, wincing. Still, a friendly word, you know, one good turn deserves another. He looked at me from head to foot with a curious scrutiny. For one moment I feared that Tyrellese nobleman in him was going to raise its foot and take active measures. But the next I saw that Sir Charles was right after all, and that pristine innocence has removed from this planet to other quarters. He named his lowest price. Mr. Ventworth, he said, I am a Tyrellese senior. I do not dabble myself in commissions and percentages. But if you're influenced with Sir Charles, we understand each other, do we not, as between gentlemen, a little friendly present, no money, of course, but the equivalent of, say, 5% in jewellery on whatever sum above his bid today you induce him to offer, et, c'est convenu? 10% is more usual, I murmured. He was the Austrian Hazar again. Five, monsieur, or nothing. I bowed and withdrew. Well, five then, I answered, just to oblige your serenity. A secretary, after all, can do a great deal. When it came to the scratch, I had but little difficulty in persuading Sir Charles, with Amelia's aid, backed up on either side by Isabel and Scissorine, to accede to the Count's more reasonable proposal. The Southampton Roe people had possession of certain facts as to the value of the wines in the Bordeaux market, which clinched the matter. In a week or two, all were settled. Charles and I met the Count by appointment in Southampton Roe, and saw him sign, seal, and deliver the title deeds of Schloss Leibnstein. My brother-in-law paid the purchase money into the Count's own hands by check, crossed on a first-class London firm, where the Count kept an account to his high, well-born order. Then he went away with the proud knowledge that he was owner of Schloss Leibnstein, and what to me was more important still. I received next morning by post a check for the five percent, unfortunately drawn by some misapprehension to my order on the self-same bankers and with the Count's signature. I explained in the accompanying note that the matter being now quite satisfactorily concluded, he saw no reason of delicacy while the amount he had promised should not be paid to me forthwith direct in money. I cashed the check at once, and said nothing about the affair, not even to Isabel. My experience is that women are not to be trusted with intricate matters of commission and brokerage. Though it was now late in March and the house was sitting, Charles insisted that we must all run over at once to take possession of our magnificent Tirelli's castle. Amelia was almost equally burning with eagerness. She gave herself the heirs of a Countess already. We took the Orient Express as far as Munich, then the Brenner to Moran, and put up for the night at the Atzherzog Johann. Though we had telegraphed our arrival and expected some fuss, there was no demonstration. Next morning we drove out in state to the cross, to enter into enjoyment of our vines and fig trees. We were met at the door by the Serli steward. I shall dismiss that man, Charles muttered, as Lord of Limstein. He's too sour looking for my taste. Never saw such a brute. Not a smile of welcome. He mounted the steps. The Serli man stepped forward and murmured a few morose words in German. Charles brushed him aside and strode on. Then there followed a curious scene of mutual misunderstanding. The Serli man called Lusterly for his servants to eject us. It was some time before we began to catch at the truth. The Serli man was the real Graf von Limstein. And the Count with the moustache. It dawned upon us now. Colonel Clay again. More audacious than ever. Bit by bit it all came out. He had ridden behind us the first day we viewed the place. And giving himself out to the servants as one of our party had joined us in the reception room. We asked the real Count why he had spoken to the intruder. The Count explained in French that the man with the moustache had introduced my brother-in-law as the great South African millionaire while he described himself as our courier and interpreter. As such he had had frequent interviews with the real Graf and his lawyers and had driven almost daily across to the castle. The owner of the estate had named one price from the first and had stuck to it manfully. He stuck to it still. And if Sir Charles chose to buy Schloss Limstein over again he was welcome to have it. How the London lawyers had been duped the Count had not really the slightest idea. He regretted the incident and coldly wished us a very good morning. There was nothing for it that we might do to the arts Herzog Johann, Crestfallen and Telegraph particulars to the police in London. Charles and I ran across post-haste to England to track down the villain. At Southampton Row we found the legal firm by no means penitent. On the contrary they were indignant that the way we had deceived them. An imposter had written to them on Limstein paper from Iran to say that he was coming to London with the founding property with the famous millionaire Sir Charles van Drift and Sir Charles had demonstratively recognised him at sight as the real Count von Limstein. The firm had never seen the present Count at all and had swallowed the imposter whole so to speak on the strength of Sir Charles's obvious recognition. He had brought over as documents some most excellent forgeries facsimiles of the originals which as our courier and interpreter made he of examining and inspecting at the Moran lawyers. It was a deeply laid plot and it had succeeded to a marvel. Yet all of it depended upon the one small fact that we had accepted the man with a long moustache in the Hall of the Schloss as the Count von Limstein on his own representation. He held our cards in his hands when he came in and the servant had not given them to him but to the genuine Count. That was the one unsolved mystery in the whole adventure. By the evening's post two letters arrived for us at Sir Charles's house, one for myself and one for my employer. Sir Charles's ran thus. High well-born incompetence I only just pulled through. A very small slip nearly lost me everything. I believed you were going to Schloss planter that day, not to Schloss Limstein. You changed your mind en route that might have spoiled all. Happily I perceived it, rode up by the shortcut and arrived somewhat hurriedly and hotly at the gate before you. Then I introduced myself. I had one more bad moment when the rival claimant to my name and title intruded into the room but fortune favours the brave.  The rest was papp. It went by itself almost. Allow me now as some small return for your various welcome checks to offer you a useful and valuable present. A German dictionary, grammar and phrasebook.  No longer von Limstein. The other note was to me. It was as follows. Dear good Mr. Winterther Ha Ha Ha Just the W misplaced sufficed to take you in then. And I risked the TH though anybody with a head on his shoulders would surely have known our TH is by far more difficult than our W for foreigners. However all's well that ends well and now I've got you. The Lord has delivered you into my hands dear friend on your own initiative. I hold my check endorsed by you and cashed at my bankers as a hostage so to speak for your future good behaviour.  So now we understand each other. I had not thought of this little dod it was you who suggested it. However I jumped at it. Was it not well worth my while paying you that slight commission in return for a guarantee of your future silence? Your mouth is now closed and cheap too at the price. Yours dear comrade in the great guarantee of rogues Cuthbert Clay Colonel Charles laid his note down and grizzled. What's yours see? he asked. From a lady I answered. He gazed at me suspiciously. Oh I thought it was the same hand he said. His eye looked through me. No I answered. Mrs Mortimer's. But I confess I trembled. He paused a moment. I made all inquiries at this fellow's bank he went on after a deep sigh. Oh yes I put in quickly. I had taken good care about that you may be sure. Lest you should spot the commission. They say the self-styled Count von Liebenstein was introduced to them by the Southampton Row folks and drew as usual on the Liebenstein account. So they were quite unsuspicious. A rascal who goes about the world on that scale you know and arrives with such credentials as theirs and yours naturally imposes on anybody. The bank didn't even require to have him formally identified the firm was enough. He came to pay money in not to draw it out. And he withdrew his balance just two days later saying he was in a hurry to get back to Vienna. Would he ask for items? I confess I felt it was an awkward moment. Charles however was too full of regrets to bother about the account. He leaned back in his easy chair stuck his hands in his pockets held his legs straight out on the fender before him and looked the very picture of hopeless despondency. See he began after a minute or two poking the fire reflectively. What a genius that man has. Upon my soul I admire him. I sometimes wish he broke off and hesitated. Yes Charles I answered. I sometimes wish we had got him on the board of a cluttered up gulcondus. Magnificent combinations he would make in the city. I rose from my seat and stared solemnly at my misguided brother-in-law. Charles I said you are beside yourself. Too much Colonel Clay has told upon your clear and splendid intellect. There are certain remarks which however true they may be no self-respecting financier can make himself to make even in the privacy of his own room to his most intimate friend and trusted advisor. Charles fairly broke down. You are right, see he sobbed out. Quite right. Forgive this outburst. At moments of emotion the truth will sometimes out in spite of everything. I respected his feebleness. I did not even make it a fitting occasion to ask for a trifling increase of salary. Chapter 5 of an African millionaire episodes in the life of the illustrious Colonel Clay this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Kirsten Weber Chapter 5 of an African millionaire episodes in the life of the illustrious Colonel Clay by Grant Allen the episode of the drawn game the 12th of August saw us as usual at Selden Castle, Russia it is part of Charles's restless roving temperament that on the morning of the 11th wet or fine he must set out from London whether the house is sitting or not in defiance of the most urgent three line whips and at dawn on the 12th he must be at work on his moors shooting down the young birds with might and main at the earliest possible legal moment he goes on like Saul slaying his thousands or like David his tens of thousands with all the guns in the house to help him till the keepers warn him he has killed as many grouse as they consider desirable having done his duty as he thinks in this respect he retires precipitately with flying colors to Brighton, Nice, Monte Carlo or elsewhere he must be always on the trick when he is buried I believe he will not be able to rest quiet in his grave his ghost will walk the world to terrify old ladies at Selden at least he said to me with a sigh as he stepped into his bullman I shall be safe from that imposter and indeed as soon as he had begun to tire a little of counting up his hundreds of brace per diem he found a trifling piece of financial work cut ready to his hand which amply distracted his mind for the moment from Colonel Clay his accomplices and his villainies Charles I ought to say had secured during that summer a very advantageous option in a part of Africa on the Transvaal Frontier rumored to be oriferous now whether it was oriferous or not before the mere fact that Charles had secured some claim on it naturally made it so for no man had ever the genuine Midas touch to a greater degree than Charles Van Drift ever he handles turns at once to gold if not to diamonds therefore as soon as my brother-in-law had obtained this option from the native vendor a most respected chief by name Montiore and promoted a company of his own to develop it his great rival in that region Lord Craig Elachi formerly Sir David Alexander Granton immediately secured a similar option of an adjacent track the larger part of which had pretty much the same geological conditions as that covered by Sir Charles his right of preemption we were not wholly disappointed as it turns out in the result a month or two later while we were still at Selden we received a long and encouraging letter from our prospectors on the spot who had been hunting over the ground in search of gold reefs they reported they had found a good oriferous vein of the tract approachable by added levels but unfortunately only a few yards of the load lay within the limits of Sir Charles's area the remainder ran on at once into what was locally known as Craig Elachi's section however our prospectors had been canny they said though young Mr. Granton was prospecting at the same time in the self-same ridge from them his miners had failed to discover the oriferous quartz so our men had held their tongues about it wisely leaving it for Charles to govern himself accordingly can you dispute the boundary I asked impossible Charles answered you see the limit is a meridian of longitude there's no getting over that can't pretend to deny it no buying over the sun besides we drew the line ourselves we've only one way out of it see amalgamate amalgamate Charles is a marvelous man the very voice in which he murmured that blessed word amalgamate was in itself a poem capital I answered say nothing about it and join forces with Craig Elachi Charles closed one eye pensively that very same evening came a telegram in Cypher from our chief engineer on the territory of the option young Granton has somehow given us the slip and gone home we suspect he knows all but we have not divulged the secret to anybody Seymour my brother in law said impressively there is no time to be lost I must write this evening to Sir David I mean to my lord do you happen to know where he is stopping at present the morning post announced two or three days ago that he was at Glen Elachi I answered then I'll ask him to come over and thrash the matter out with me my brother in law went on a very rich reef they say I must have my finger in it we adjourned into the study where Charles drafted I must admit a most judicious letter to the capitalists he pointed out that the mineral resources of the country were probably great but as yet uncertain that the expense of crushing and milling might be almost prohibitive that access to fuel was costly and it's conveyance difficult that water was scarce and commanded by our section that two rival companies if they happened to hit upon or might cut one another's throats erecting two sets of furnaces or pumping plants and bringing two separate streams to the spot where one would answer in short to employ the golden word that amalgamation might prove better in the end than competition and that he advised at least a conference on the subject I wrote it out fair for him and Sir Charles with the air of a Cromwell signed it this is important see he said it had better be registered for fear of falling into improper hands don't give it to Dobson let Césarine take it over to Fowless in the dog cart it is the drawback of Selden that we are 12 miles from a railway station though we look out on one of the loveliest furths in Scotland Césarine took it as directed an invaluable servant that girl meanwhile we learned from the morning post next day that young Mr. Granton had stolen a march upon us he had arrived from Africa by the same mail with our agent's letter and had joined his father at once at Glen Ellati two days later we received a most polite reply from the opposing interest it ran after this fashion Craig Ellati Lodge Glen Ellati Invenisher Dear Sir Charles Van Drift Thanks for yours of the 20th In reply I can only say I fully reciprocate your amiable desire that nothing adverse to either of our companies should happen in South Africa with regard to your suggestion that we should meet in person to discuss the basis of a possible amalgamation I can only say my house is at present full of guests as is doubtless your own and I should therefore find it practically impossible to leave Glen Ellati fortunately however my son David is now at home on a brief holiday from Kimberley and it will give him great pleasure to come over and hear what you have to say in favor of an arrangement which certainly on some grounds seems to me desirable in the interests of both our concessions alike he will arrive tomorrow afternoon at Selden and he is authorized with every respect to negotiate with full powers on behalf of myself and the other directors with kindest regards to your wife and sons I remain Dear Sir Charles yours faithfully Craig Ellati cunning old fox Sir Charles exclaimed with a sniff what's he up to now I wonder seems almost as anxious to amalgamate as we ourselves are see I thought struck him do you know he cried looking up I really believe the same thing must have happened to both our exploring parties they must have found a reef that goes under our ground and the wicked old rascal wants to cheat us out of it as we want to cheat him I venture to interpose Charles looked at me fixedly well if so we're both in luck he murmured after a pause we can only get to know the whereabouts of their find by joining hands with them and showing them ours still it's good business either way but I shall be cautious cautious what a nuisance Amelia cried when we told her of the incident I suppose I shall have to put the man up for the night a nasty raw-boned half-baked Scotchman you may be certain on Wednesday afternoon about three Mr. Granton arrived he was a pleasant featured red-haired sandy-whiskered youth not unlike his father but strange to say he dropped in to call instead of bringing his luggage why you're not going back to Glen Elachi tonight surely Charles exclaimed in amazement Lady Van Drift will be so disappointed besides this business can't be arranged between two trains do you think Mr. Granton smiled he had an agreeable smile can he yet open oh no he said frankly I didn't mean to go back I've put up at the inn I have my wife with me you know and I wasn't invited Amelia was of opinion when we told her this episode that David Granton wouldn't stop at Seldon because he was an honourable Isabelle was of opinion he had married an unpresentable young woman somewhere out in South Africa Charles was of opinion that as representative of the hostile interest he put up at the inn because it might tie his hands in some way to be the guest of the chairman of the rival company and I was of the opinion that he had heard of the castle and knew it well by report as the dullest country house to stay at in Scotland however that may be young Granton insisted on remaining at the Chromarty arms though he told us his wife would be delighted to receive a call from Lady Van Drift and Mrs. Wentworth so we all returned with him to bring the honourable Mrs. Granton up to tea at the castle she was a nice little thing very shy and timid but by no means unpresentable and an evident lady she giggled at the end of every sentence and she was endowed with a slight squint which somehow seemed to point all her feeble sallies she knew little outside South Africa but of that she talked privily and she won all our hearts in spite of the cast in her eye by her unaffected simplicity next morning Charles and I had a regular debate with young Granton about the rival options our talk was of cyanide processes reverberatories penny weights, water jackets but it dawned upon us soon that in spite of his red hair and his innocent manners our friend the honourable David Granton knew a thing or two gradually and gracefully he let us see that Lord Craig Elati had sent him for the benefit of the company but that he had come for the benefit of the honourable I'm a younger son Sir Charles he said and therefore I have to feather my nest for myself I know the ground my father will be guided implicitly by what I advise in the matter we are men of the world now let's be business like you want to amalgamate you wouldn't do that of course if you didn't know of something to the advantage of my father's company say a load on our land which you hope to secure for yourself by amalgamation very well I can make or mar your project if you choose to render it worth my while I'll induce my father and his directors to amalgamate if you don't I won't that's the long and the short of it Charles looked at him admiringly young man he said you're deep very deep for your age is this candor or deception do you mean what you say or do you know some reason why it suits your father's book to amalgamate as well as it suits mine and are you trying to keep it from me he fingered his chin if I only knew that he went on I should know how to deal with you young Granton smiled again you're a financier Sir Charles he answered I wonder at your time of life you should pause to ask another financier whether he's trying to fill his own pocket or his father's whatever is my father's goes to his eldest son and I am his youngest you are right as to general principles Sir Charles replied quite affectionately most sound and sensible but how do I know you haven't bargained already in the same way with your father may have settled with him and be trying to diddle me the young man assumed a most candid air look here he said leaning forward I offer you this chance take it or leave it do you wish to purchase my aid for this amalgamation by a moderate commission on the net value of my father's option to yourself which I know approximately say 5% I suggested in a tentative voice just to justify my presence he looked me through and through 10 is more usual he answered in a peculiar tone with a peculiar glance great heavens how I winced I knew what his words meant they were the very words I had said myself to Colonel Clay as the Count von Lebenstein about the purchase money of the Schloss and in the very same accent I saw through it all now that beastly check this was Colonel Clay and he was trying to buy up my silence and assistance by the threat of exposure my blood ran cold I didn't know how to answer him what happened at the rest of that interview I really couldn't tell you my brain reeled round I heard just faint echoes of fuel and reduction works what on earth was I to do if I told Charles my suspicion for it was only a suspicion the fellow might turn upon me and disclose the check which would suffice to ruin me if I didn't I ran a risk of being considered by Charles an accomplice and a confederate the interview was long I hardly know how I struggled through it at the end young Granton went off well satisfied if it was young Granton and Amelia invited him and his wife up to dinner at the castle whatever else they were they were capital company they stopped for three days more at the Cromarty arms and Charles debated and discussed incessantly he couldn't quite make up his mind what to do in the affair and I certainly couldn't help him I never was placed in such a fix in my life I did my best to preserve a strict neutrality young Granton it turned out was a most agreeable person and so in her way was that timid unpretending South African wife of his she was naively surprised Amelia had never met her mama at Durban they both talked delightfully and had lots of good stories mostly with points that told against the Craig L. I. people moreover the honourable David was a splendid swimmer he went out in a boat with us and dived like a seal he was burning to teach Charles and myself to swim when we told him we could neither of us take a single stroke he said it was an accomplishment incumbent upon every true Englishman but Charles hates the water while as for myself I detest every known form of muscular exercise however we consented that he should row us on the first and made an appointment one day with himself and his wife for for the next evening that night Charles came to me with a very grave face in my own bedroom see he said under his breath have you observed have you watched have you any suspicions I trembled violently I felt it was all up suspicions of whom I asked not surely of Simpson he was Sir Charles's valet my respected brother-in-law looked at me contemptuously see he said are you trying to take me in no not of Simpson of these two young folks my own belief is their Colonel Clay and Madame Picardet impossible I cried he nodded I'm sure of it how do you know instinctively I seized his arm Charles I said imploring him do nothing rash remember how you exposed yourself to the ridicule of fools over Dr. Pulpero I've thought of that he answered and I mean to when in Scotland as Laird of Seldon Charles loves both to dress and to speak the part thoroughly first thing tomorrow morning I shall telegraph over to inquire at Glen Elachi I shall find out whether this is really young Granton or not meanwhile I shall keep my eye close upon the fellow early next morning accordingly a groom was dispatched with a telegram to Lord Craig Elachi he was to ride over to Foulis send it off at once and wait for the answer at the same time as it was probable Lord Craig Elachi would have started for the moors before the telegram reached the lodge I did not myself expect to see the reply arrive much before seven or eight that evening meanwhile as it was far from certain we had not the real David Granton to deal with it was necessary to be polite to our friendly rivals our experience in the Pulpero incident had shown us both that too much zeal may be more dangerous than too little nevertheless taught by previous misfortunes we kept watching our man pretty close determined that on this occasion at least he should neither do us nor yet escape us about four o'clock the red haired young man and his pretty little wife came up to call for us she looked so charming and squinted so enchantingly one could hardly believe she was not as simple and innocent as she seemed to be she tripped down to the Seldon boathouse with Charles by her side giggling and squinting her best and then helped her husband to get the skiff ready as she did so Charles silled up to me see he whispered I'm an old hand and I'm not readily taken in I've been talking to that girl and upon my soul I think she's all right she's a charming little lady we may be mistaken after all of course about young Granton in any case it's well for the present to be courteous a most important option if it's really he we must do nothing to annoy him or let him see we suspect him I had noticed indeed that Mrs. Granton had made herself most agreeable to Charles from the very beginning and as to one thing he was right in her timid shrinking way she was undeniably charming that cast in her eye was all pure pecancy we rode out onto the first or to be more strictly correct the two Grantons rode while Charles and I sat and leaned back in the stern on the luxurious cushions they rode fast and well in a very few minutes they had rounded the point and got clear out of sight of the cockney field towers and false battlements of Selden Mrs. Granton pulled stroke even as she rode she kept up a brisk undercurrent of timid chaff with her Charles sir Charles giggling all the while half forward half shy like a school girl who flirts with a man old enough to be her grandfather sir Charles was flattered he is susceptible to the pleasures of female attention especially from the young the simple and the innocent the wiles of women of the world he knows too well but a pretty little ingenue can twist him round her finger she rode on and on till they drew a breast of Seamuse Island it is a jagged stack or scary well out to sea very wild and precipitous on the landward side but shelving gently outward perhaps an acre and extent with steep gray cliffs covered at that time with crimson masses of red valerian Mrs. Granton rode up close to it oh what lovely flowers she cried throwing her head back and gazing at them I wish I could get some let's land here and pick them sir Charles you shall gather me a nice bunch for my sitting room Charles rose to it innocently like a trout to a fly by all means my dear child I have a passion for flowers which was a flower of speech itself but it served its purpose thus round to the far side where is the easiest landing place it struck me as odd at the moment that they seemed to know it then young Granton jumped lightly ashore Mrs. Granton skipped after him I confess it made me feel rather ashamed to see how clumsily Charles and I followed them treading gingerly on the thwarts for fear of upsetting the boat while the artless young thing just flew the gun well so like white heather however we got ashore at last in safety and began to climb the rocks as well as we were able in search of Valerian judge of our astonishment when next moment these two young people bounded back into the boat pushed off with a peel of merry laughter and left us there staring at them they rode away about 20 yards into deep water then the man turned and waved his hand at us gracefully good-bye he said good-bye hope you'll pick a nice bunch we're off to London off Charles exclaimed turning pale off what do you mean you don't surely mean to say you're going to leave us here the young man raised his cap with perfect politeness while Mrs. Granton smiled nodded and kissed her pretty hand yes he answered for the present we retire from the game the fact of it is it's a trifle too thin this is a coup manquis a what? Charles exclaimed perspiring visibly a coup manquis the young man replied with a compassionate smile a failure don't you know a bad shot a fiasco I learned from my scouts that I was born by a special messenger to Lord Craig Elachi this morning that shows you suspect me now it is a principle of my system never to go on for one move with a game when I find myself suspected the slightest symptom of distrust and I back out immediately my plans can only be worked to satisfaction when there is perfect confidence on the part of my patient it is a well-known rule of the medical profession I never try to bleed a man who struggles so now we're off, ta ta good luck to you he was not much more than 20 yards away and could talk to us quite easily but the water was deep the islet rose sheer from I'm sure I don't know how many fathoms of sea and we could neither of us swim Charles stretched out his arms imploringly for heaven's sake he cried don't tell me you really mean to leave us here he looked so comical in his distress and terror that Mrs. Granton Madame Picardet, whatever I am to call her laughed melodiously in her prettiest way at the sight of him dear Sir Charles, she called out pray don't be afraid it's only a short and temporary imprisonment we will send men to take you off dear David and I only need just time enough to get well ashore and make you slight alterations in our personal appearance and she indicated with her hand, laughing dear David's red wig and false sandy whiskers as we felt convinced they must be now she looked at them and tittered her manner at this moment was anything but shy in fact I will venture to say it was that of a bold and brazen faced hoiden then you are Colonel Clay mopping his brow with his handkerchief if you choose to call me so the young man answered politely I'm sure it's most kind of you to supply me with a commission in Her Majesty's service however, time presses and we want to push off don't alarm yourselves unnecessarily I will send a boat to take you away from this rock at the earliest possible moment consistent with my personal safety and my dear companions hand on his heart and struck a sentimental attitude I have received too many unwilling kindnesses at your hands so Charles he continued not to feel how wrong it would be of me to inconvenience you for nothing rest assured that you shall be rescued by midnight at latest fortunately the weather just at present is warm and I see no chance of rain so you will suffer if at all nothing worse than the pangs of temporary hunger Mrs. Granton no longer squinting to as a mere trick she had assumed rose up in the boat and stretched out a rug to us catch she cried in a merry voice and flung it at us doubled it fell at our feet she was a capital thrower now you dear Sir Charles she went on take that to keep you warm you know I am really quite fond of you you're not half a bad old boy when one takes you the right way you have a human side to you why I often wear that sweetly pretty brooch you gave me at Nice when I was Madame Picardet and I'm sure your goodness to me at Lucerne when I was the little curate's wife is a thing to remember we're so glad to have seen you in your lovely Scotch home you were always so proud of don't be frightened please it hurts you for the world we are so sorry we have to take this inhospitable means of evading you but dear David I must call him dear David still instinctively felt that you were beginning to suspect us and he can't bear mistrust he is so sensitive the moment people mistrust him he must break off with them at once this was the only way to get you both off our hands we make the needful little arrangements to depart and we've been driven to avail ourselves of it however I will give you my word of honour as a lady you shall be fetched away tonight if dear David doesn't do it why I'll do it myself and she blew us another kiss Charles was half beside himself divided between alternate terror and anger oh we shall die here he exclaimed nobody'd ever dream of coming to this rock to search for me what a pity you didn't let me teach you to swim Colonel Clay interposed it is a noble exercise and very useful indeed in such special emergencies well tata I'm off you nearly scored one this time but by putting you here for the moment and keeping you till we're gone I venture to say I've redressed the board and I think we may count it same, may it we? the match stands at three love with some thousands in pocket you're a murderer sir Charles shrieked out we shall starve or die here Colonel Clay on his side was all sweetness and reasonableness now my dear sir he expostulated one hand held palm outward do you think it probable I would kill the goose that lays the golden eggs with so little compunction no no sir Charles van drift I know too well how much you are worth to me I return you on my income tax paper as five thousand a year clear profit of my profession suppose you were to die I might be compelled to find some new and far less lucrative source of plunder your heirs, executors or assignees may not suit my purpose the fact of it is sir and mine are exactly adapted to one another I understand you and you do not understand me which is often the basis of the firmest friendships I can catch you just when you are trying to catch other people your very smartness assists me for I admit you are smart as a regular financier I allow I couldn't hold a candle to you but in my humbler walk of life I know just how to utilize you I lead you on where you think you are going to gain some advantage over others and by dexterously playing upon your love of a good bargain your innate desire to best somebody else I succeed in besting you there sir you have the philosophy of our mutual relations he bowed and raised his cap Charles looked at him and coward yes genius as he is he positively coward and do you mean to say he burst out you intend to go on so bleeding me the colonel smiled a bland smile sir Charles van drift he answered I called you just now the goose that lays the golden eggs you may have thought the metaphor a rude one but you are a goose you know in certain relations smartest man on the stock exchange I readily admit easiest fool to bamboozle in the open country that ever I met with you fail in one thing the perspicacity of simplicity for that reason among others I have chosen to fasten upon you regard me my dear sir as a microbe of millionaires a parasite upon capitalists you know the old rhyme great fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite them and these again have lesser fleas and so add infinitum well that's just how I view myself you are a capitalist and a millionaire in your large way you prey upon society you deal in corners options concessions syndicates you drain the world dry of its blood and its money you possess like the mosquito a beautiful instrument of suction founders shares with which you absorb the surplus wealth of the community in my smaller way again I believe you in turn of a portion of the plunder I am a robin hood of my age and looking upon you as an exceptionally bad form of millionaire as well as an exceptionally easy form of pigeon for a man of my type and talents to pluck I have so to speak taken up my abode upon you Charles looked at him and groaned the young man continued in a tone of gentle badinage I love the plot interest of the game he said and so does dear Jesse here we both of us adore it as long as I find such good pickings upon you I certainly am not going to turn away from so valuable a carcass in order to baton myself at considerable trouble upon minor capitalists out of whom it is difficult to extract a few hundreds it may have puzzled you to guess why I fixed upon you so persistently now you know and understand when a fluke finds a sheep that suits him that fluke lives upon him you are my host I am your parasite this coup has failed but don't flatter yourself for a moment it will be the last one why do you insult me by telling me all this so Charles cried writhing the colonel waved his hand it was small and white because I love the game he answered with a relish and also because the more prepared you are beforehand the greater credit and amusement is there in besting you well now ta ta once more I am wasting valuable time I might be cheating somebody I must be off at once take care of yourself Wentworth but I know you will you always do 10% is more usual he rode away and left us as the boat began to disappear round the corner of the island white heather, so she looked stood up in the stern and shouted aloud through her pretty hands to us bye bye dear Sir Charles she cried do wrap the rug around you I'll send the men to fetch you as soon as ever I possibly can and thank you so much for those lovely flowers the boat rounded the crags we were alone on the island Charles flung himself on the bare rock in a wild access of despondency he is accustomed to luxury and cannot get on without his padded cushions as for myself I climbed with some difficulty to the top of the cliff, landward and tried to make signals of distress with my handkerchief to some passerby on the mainland all in vain Charles had dismissed the crafters on the estates and as the shooting party that day was in an opposite direction not a soul was near to whom we could call for a sucker we climbed down again to Charles the evening came on slowly cries of sea birds rang weird upon the water puffins and cormorants circled round our heads in the gray of twilight Charles suggested that they might even swoop down upon us and bite us they did not however but their flapping wings added nonetheless a painful touch of eeriness to our hunger and solitude Charles horribly depressed for myself I will confess I felt so much relieved at the fact that Colonel Clay had not openly betrayed me in the matter of the commission as to be comparatively comfortable we crouched on a hard crag about eleven o'clock we heard human voices boat ahoy! I shouted an answering shout aroused us to action we rushed down to the landing place and cooied for the men to show them where we were they came up at once in Sir Charles' own boat they were fishermen from Nagari on the shore of the Firth opposite a lady and gentleman had sent them they said to return the boat and call for us on the island their description corresponded to the two supposed grantons they wrote us home almost in silence to Selden it was half past twelve by the gate house clock when we reached the castle men had been sent along the coast each way to seek us Amelia had gone to bed much alarmed for our safety Isabel was sitting up it was too late of course to do much that night in the way of apprehending the miscreants though Charles insisted upon dispatching a groom with a telegram for the police at Inverness nothing came of it all a message awaited us from Lord Craig Elachi to be sure saying that his son had not left Glen Elachi Lodge while research the next day and later showed that our correspondent had never even received our letter an empty envelope alone had arrived at the house and the postal authorities had been engaged meanwhile with their usual lightning speed in investigating the matter Césarine had posted the letter herself at Phallus and brought back the receipt so the only conclusion we could draw was this Colonel Clay must be in league with somebody at the post office as for Lord Craig Elachi's reply that was a simple forgery though oddly enough it was written on Glen Elachi paper however by the time Charles had eaten a couple of grouse and drunk a bottle of his excellent Simon his spirits and valor revived exceedingly doubtless he inherits from his Boer ancestry a tendency toward courage of the Batavian description he was in capital feather after all see he said leaning back in his chair this time we score one he has not done us brown we have at least detected him to detect him in time is half way to catching him the remoteness of our position at seldom castle saved him from capture next set to I feel sure we will not merely spot him we will also nap him I only wish he would try on such a rig in London but the oddest part of it all was this that from the moment those two people landed at nigger a and told the fisherman there were some gentlemen stranded on the sea muse island the trace of them vanished at no station along the line could we gain any news of them their maid had left the inn the same morning with their luggage and we tracked her to Inverness but there the trail stopped short no spore lay farther it was a most singular and insoluble mystery Charles lived in hopes of catching his man in London but for my part I felt there was a show of reason for the last taunt which the rascal flung back at us as the boat receded Sir Charles Van Drift we are a pair of rogues the law protects you it persecutes me that's all the difference End of chapter 5