CHAPTER XXXI

  A special train from Southampton had just steamed into Waterloo with thepassengers from the Royal Mail steamer Ophir. Little groups of sunburntmen were greeting old friends upon the platform, surrounded by piles ofluggage, canvas trunks and steamer chairs. The demand for hansoms wasbrisk, cab after cab heavily loaded was rolling out of the yard. Therewere grizzled men and men of fair complexion, men in white helmets andpuggarees, and men in silk hats. All sorts were represented there, fromthe successful diamond digger who was spasmodically embracing a lady inblack jet of distinctly Jewish proclivities, to a sporting lord whohad been killing lions. For a few minutes the platforms were given overaltogether to a sort of pleasurable confusion, a vivid scene, fullof colour and human interest. Then the people thinned away, and, verynearly last of all, a wizened-looking, grey-headed man, carrying a blackbag and a parcel, left the platform with hesitating footsteps and turnedtowards the bridge. He was followed almost immediately by Hiram DaSouza, who, curiously enough, seemed to have been on the platform whenthe train came in and to have been much interested in this shabby,lonely old man, who carried himself like a waif stranded in an unknownland. Da Souza was gorgeous in frock coat and silk hat, a carnationin his buttonhole, a diamond in his black satin tie, yet he was notaltogether happy. This little man hobbling along in front representedfate to him. On the platform at Waterloo he had heard him timidly aska bystander the way to the offices of the Bekwando Land and GoldExploration Company, Limited. If ever he got there, what would be theprice of Bekwando shares on the morrow?

  On the bridge Da Souza saw him accost a policeman, and brushing closeby, heard him ask the same question. The man shook his head, but pointedeastwards.

  "I can't say exactly, sir, but somewhere in the City, for certain," heanswered. "I should make for the Bank of England, a penny 'bus alongthat way will take you--and ask again there."

  The old man nodded his thanks and stepped along Da Souza felt that histime had come. He accosted him with an urbane smile.

  "Excuse me," he said, "but I think I heard you ask for the offices ofthe Bekwando Land Company."

  The old man looked up eagerly. "If you can direct me there, sir," hesaid, "I shall be greatly obliged."

  "I can do so," Da Souza said, falling into step, "and will withpleasure. I am going that way myself. I hope," he continued in a tone ofkindly concern, "that you are not a shareholder in the Company."

  The old man dropped his bag with a clatter upon the pavement, and hislips moved for a moment without any speech coming from them. Da Souzapicked up the bag and devoutly hoped that none of his City friends werein the way.

  "I don't exactly know about being a shareholder," the old man saidnervously, "but I've certainly something to do with it. I am, or shouldhave been, joint vendor. The Company is wealthy, is it not?"

  Da Souza changed the bag into his other hand and thrust his arm throughhis companion's.

  "You haven't seen the papers lately, have you?"

  "No! I've just landed--to-day--from Africa!"

  "Then I'm sorry to say there's some bad news for you," Da Souza said."The Bekwando Land and Gold Company has gone into liquidation--smashedup altogether. They say that all the directors and the vendor will bearrested. It seems to have been a gigantic swindle."

  Monty had become a dead weight upon his arm. They were in the Strandnow, and he pushed open the swing-door of a public-house, and madehis way into the private bar. When Monty opened his eyes he was on acushioned seat, and before him was a tumbler of brandy half empty. Hestared round him wildly. His lips were moist and the old craving was hotupon him. What did it mean? After all he had broken his vow, then! Hadhe not sworn to touch nothing until he had found his little girl and hisfortune? yet the fire of spirits was in his veins and the craving wastearing him to pieces. Then he remembered! There was no fortune, nolittle girl! His dreams were all shattered, the last effort of his lifehad been in vain. He caught hold of the tumbler with fingers that shookas though an ague were upon him, lifted it to his lips and drank. Thenthere came the old blankness, and he saw nothing but what seemed tohim the face of a satyr--dark and evil--mocking him through the shadowswhich had surely fallen now for ever. Da Souza lifted him up andconveyed him carefully to a four-wheel cab.

  * * * * *

  An hour afterwards Da Souza, with a grin of content upon his unshapelymouth, exchanged his frock coat for a gaudy smoking-jacket, and, with afreshly-lit cigar in his mouth, took up the letters which had arrived bythe evening post. Seeing amongst them one with an African stamp he toreit open hastily, and read:--

  "MY DEAR HIRAM,--You was in luck now or never, if you really wantto stop that half--witted creature from doing mischief in London. Isometimes think, my brother, that you would do better to give me evenmore of your confidence. You are a very clever man, but you do keepyourself so secret. If I too were not clever, how would I know to sendyou this news, how would I know that it will make you glad? But there,you will go your way. I know it!

  "Now for the news! Monty, as I cabled (I send the bill) has gonesecretly to London. Since Scarlett Trent found our Hausa friend andthe rum flask, there have been no means of getting liquor to him, so Isuppose he has very near regained his senses, anyhow he shipped offvery cunning, not even Missionary Walsh knowing, but he made a very bigmistake, the news of which I send to you knowing it will be good.Hiram, he stole the money to pay for his passage from the missionary'scash-box! All one day he stood under a tree looking out to sea, and asteamer from Capetown called, and when he heard the whistle and saw thesurf boats he seemed to wake up. He walked up and down restlessly for along time, muttering to himself. Mrs. Walsh came out to him and he wasstill staring at the steamer. She told him to come in out of the sun,which was very hot, but he shook his head. 'She's calling me,' he kepton saying, 'calling me!' She heard him in the room where the money wasand then saw no more of him. But others saw him running to the shore,and he paid to be taken out to the steamer. They wouldn't take him onat first, because he hadn't secured a passage, but he laid down andwouldn't move. So, as he had the money, they took him, and when I heardI cabled to you. But what harm can he do, for you are his master? He isa thief and you know it. Surely you can do with him what you will.

  "Trent was here yesterday and heard for the first time of his flight.How he took it I cannot tell you, for I was not the one to tell him, butthis I know for a fact. He cabled to Capetown offering 100 pounds if theStar Line steamer leaving to-morrow would call for him here. Hiram, heis a great man, this Trent. I hate him, for he has spoilt much trade forme, and he treats me as though I were the dirt under his feet, but nevera man before who has set foot upon the Coast could have done what he hasdone. Without soldiers he has beaten the Bekwando natives, and made themeven work for him. He has stirred the whole place here into a state offever! A thousand men are working upon his road and sinking shafts uponthe Bekwando hills. Gold is already coming down, nuggets of it, and heis opening a depot to buy all the mahogany and ivory in the country. Hespends money like water, he never rests, what he says must be done isdone! The authorities are afraid of him, but day by day they become morecivil! The Agent here called him once an adventurer, and threatened himwith arrest for his fighting with the Bekwandos. Now they go to him capin hand, for they know that he will be a great power in this country.And Hiram, my brother, you have not given me your trust though I speakto you so openly, but here is the advice of a brother, for blood isblood, and I would have you make monies. Don't you put yourself againstTrent. Be on his side, for his is the winning side. I don't know whatyou got in your head about that poor scarecrow Monty, but I tell you,Hiram, Trent is the man to back right through. He has the knack ofsuccess, and he is a genius. My! he's a great man, and he's a king outhere. You be on his side, Hiram, and you're all right.

  "Now goodbye, but send me the money for the cable when you write, andremember--Monty is a thief and Trent is the man to back, which remindsme that Trent repaid
to Missionary Walsh all the money which Monty took,which it seems was left with Walsh by him for Monty's keep. But Montydoes not know that, so you have the string to make him dance.

  "Which comes from your brother

  "SAMUEL.

  "P.S.--Do not forget the small account for disbursements."

  Da Souza folded up the letter, and a look of peace shone in his face.Presently he climbed the stairs to a little back-room and noiselesslyunlocked the door. Monty, with pale face and bloodshot eyes, was walkingup and down, mumbling to himself. He addressed Da Souza eagerly.

  "I think I will go away now," he said. "I am very much obliged to youfor looking after me."

  Da Souza gazed at him with well-affected gravity. "One moment first," hesaid, "didn't I understand you that you had just come from Africa?"

  Monty nodded.

  "The Gold Coast?"

  Monty nodded again, but with less confidence.

  "By any chance--were you called Monty there?"

  Monty turned ghastly pale. Surely his last sin had not found him out. Hewas silent, but there was no need for speech. Da Souza motioned him tosit down.

  "I am very sorry," he said, "of course it's true. The police have beenhere."

  "The police!" Monty moaned.

  Da Souza nodded. Benevolence was so rare a part for him to play, that herather enjoyed it.

  "Don't be scared," he said. "Yes, your description is out, and you arewanted for stealing a few pounds from a man named Walsh. Never mind. Iwon't give you up. You shall lie snug here for a few days!"

  Monty fell on his knees. "You won't let any one know that I am here!" hepleaded.

  "Not I," Da Souza answered fervently.

  Monty rose to his feet, his face full of dumb misery.

  "Now," he muttered, "I shall never see her--never--never--never!"

  There was a bottle half full of spirits upon the table and a tumbleras yet unused. A gleam flashed in his eyes. He filled the tumblerand raised it to his lips. Da Souza watched him curiously with thebenevolent smile still upon his face.