My Strangest Case | Page 5

at the back, and observed that they were placed on either side
of himself. He had already taken the precaution of rapping upon the
walls in order to discover their thickness, and to find out whether the
sound of chinking money was to be heard through them.
"I must remember that thirty-seven and sixpence and two Mexican
dollars are all I have in the world," he said to himself. "It would be bad
business to allow them to suppose that I had more, until I find out what
they want."
"The last time I was here was with Stellman," said the taller of the men,
when they met again in the courtyard. "He had got a concession from
the Dutch, so he said, to work a portion of the West Coast for shell. He
wanted me to go in with him."
"And you couldn't see your way to it?"
"I've seen two Dutch gaols," said the other; "and I have no use for
them."
"And what happened to Stellman?" asked Hayle, but without any
apparent interest. He was thinking of something else at the time.
"They got his money, his boat, and his shell, with three pearls that
would have made your mouth water," replied the other.

"And Stellman?"
"Oh, they buried him at Sourabaya. He took the cholera, so they said,
but I have heard since that he died of starvation. They don't feed you
too well in Dutch gaols, especially when you've got a concession and a
consul."
The speaker looked up at his companion as he said this, and the other,
who, as I have already said, was not interested in the unfortunate
Stellman, or had probably heard the tale before, nodded his head in the
direction of the room where the smaller man was engaged on his toilet,
to the accompaniment of splashing water. The movement of the head
was as significant as the nod of the famous Lord of Burleigh.
"Just the same, as ever," the other replied. "Always pushing his nose
into old papers and documents, until you'd think he'd make himself ill.
Lord, what a man he would have been for the British Museum! There's
not his equal on Ancient Asia in the world."
"And this particular business?"
"Ah, you shall hear all about it in the proper time. That'll be to-morrow
morning, I reckon. In the meantime you can go to bed, and content
yourself with the knowledge that, all being well, you're going to play a
hand in the biggest scoop that ever I or anybody else have tackled?"
"You can't give me an inkling of what it is to-night, I suppose?"
"I could, but I'm not going to," replied his companion calmly. "The
story would take too long to tell, and I'm tired. Besides, you would
want to ask questions of Coddy, and that would upset the little man's
equilibrium. No! Go to bed and have a good night's rest, and we'll talk
it over in the morning. I wonder what my curtains are like? If ever
there's a place in this world for mosquitoes, it's Singapore, and I
thought Calcutta was bad enough."
Having no desire to waste time in discussing the various capabilities of
this noxious insect, Hayle bade the other good-night, and, when he had

visited the bar and had smoked another cigar, disappeared in the
direction of his own apartment.
Meanwhile Mr. Kitwater, for such was the name of the gentleman he
had just left, had begun his preparations for the night, vigorously
cursing the mosquitoes as he did so. He was a fine-looking man, with a
powerful, though somewhat humorous cast of countenance. His eyes
were large, and not unkindly. His head was a good one from a
phrenological point of view, but was marred by the possession of
enormous ears which stood out on either side of his head like those of a
bat. He wore a close-cropped beard, and he was famous for his strength,
which indeed was that of a giant.
"Hayle, if I can sum it up aright, is just the same as ever," he said as he
arranged the mosquito-netting of his bed. "He doesn't trust me, and I
don't trust him. But he'll be none the less useful for that. Let him try to
play me false, and by the Lord Harry, he'll not live to do it again."
With this amiable sentiment Mr. Kitwater prepared himself for
slumber.
Then, upon the three worthies the hot, tropical night settled down.
Next morning they met at breakfast. All three were somewhat silent. It
was as if the weight of the matter which was that day to be discussed
pressed upon their spirits. The smallest of the trio, Septimus Codd by
name, who was habitually taciturn, spoke scarcely a word. He was a