A Bid for Fortune | Page 3

so, proceeded into the hall, followed by the occupant of
the last cab, who had closely copied his example. This individual was
also in evening dress, but it was of a different stamp. It was
old-fashioned and had seen much use. The wearer, too, was taller than
the ordinary run of men, while it was noticeable that his hair was
snow-white, and that his face was deeply pitted with smallpox. After
disposing of their hats and coats in an ante-room, they reached room
No. 22, where they found the gentleman in clerical costume pacing

impatiently up and down.
Left alone, the tallest of the trio, who for want of a better title we may
call the Best Dressed Man, took out his watch, and having glanced at it,
looked at his companions. "Gentlemen," he said, with a slight
American accent, "it is three minutes to eight o'clock. My name is
Eastover!"
"I'm glad to hear it, for I'm most uncommonly hungry," said the next
tallest, whom I have already described as being so marked by disease.
"My name is Prendergast!"
"We only wait for our friend and host," remarked the clerical
gentleman, as if he felt he ought to take a share in the conversation, and
then, as an afterthought, he continued, "My name is Baxter!"
They shook hands all round with marked cordiality, seated themselves
again, and took it in turns to examine the clock.
"Have you ever had the pleasure of meeting our host before?" asked Mr.
Baxter of Mr. Prendergast.
"Never," replied that gentleman, with a shake of his head. "Perhaps Mr.
Eastover has been more fortunate?"
"Not I," was the brief rejoinder. "I've had to do with him off and on for
longer than I care to reckon, but I've never set eyes on him up to date."
"And where may he have been the first time you heard from him?"
"In Nashville, Tennessee," said Eastover. "After that, Tahupapa, New
Zealand; after that, Papeete, in the Society Islands; then Pekin, China.
And you?"
"First time, Brussels; second, Monte Video; third, Mandalay, and then
the Gold Coast, Africa. It's your turn, Mr. Baxter."
The clergyman glanced at the timepiece. It was exactly eight o'clock.
"First time, Cabul, Afghanistan; second, Nijni Novgorod, Russia; third,

Wilcannia, Darling River, Australia; fourth, Valparaiso, Chili; fifth,
Nagasaki, Japan."
"He is evidently a great traveller and a most mysterious person."
"He is more than that," said Eastover with conviction; "he is late for
dinner!"
Prendergast looked at his watch.
"That clock is two minutes fast. Hark, there goes Big Ben! Eight
exactly."
As he spoke the door was thrown open and a voice announced "Dr.
Nikola."
The three men sprang to their feet simultaneously, with exclamations of
astonishment, as the man they had been discussing made his
appearance.
It would take more time than I can spare the subject to give you an
adequate and inclusive description of the person who entered the room
at that moment. In stature he was slightly above the ordinary, his
shoulders were broad, his limbs perfectly shaped and plainly muscular,
but very slim. His head, which was magnificently set upon his
shoulders, was adorned with a profusion of glossy black hair; his face
was destitute of beard or moustache, and was of oval shape and
handsome moulding; while his skin was of a dark olive hue, a colour
which harmonized well with his piercing black eyes and pearly teeth.
His hands and feet were small, and the greatest dandy must have
admitted that he was irreproachably dressed, with a neatness that
bordered on the puritanical. In age he might have been anything from
eight-and-twenty to forty; in reality he was thirty-three. He advanced
into the room and walked with out-stretched hand directly across to
where Eastover was standing by the fireplace.
"Mr. Eastover, I feel certain," he said, fixing his glittering eyes upon
the man he addressed, and allowing a curious smile to play upon his

face.
"That is my name, Dr. Nikola," the other answered with evident
surprise. "But how on earth can you distinguish me from your other
guests?"
"Ah! it would surprise you if you knew. And Mr. Prendergast, and Mr.
Baxter. This is delightful; I hope I am not late. We had a collision in
the Channel this morning, and I was almost afraid I might not be up to
time. Dinner seems ready; shall we sit down to it?" They seated
themselves, and the meal commenced. The Imperial Restaurant has
earned an enviable reputation for doing things well, and the dinner that
night did not in any way detract from its lustre. But, delightful as it all
was, it was noticeable that the three guests paid more attention to their
host than to his excellent menu. As they had said before his arrival,
they had