Africa -- Fiction; Businessmen -- Fiction; Crime -- England -- Fiction; Criminals -- England -- Fiction
Indeed, it was well that day that young Dimsdale had good friends at his
back. His appearance was so strange and wild that the passers-by turned
back to have another look at him, His eyes were open and staring, giving
a fear-inspiring character to his expression. He could not sit still
for an instant, but paced up and down and backwards and forwards under
the influence of the fierce energy which consumed him, while the major
plodded along manfully at his side, suggesting every consideration which
might cheer him up, and narrating many tales, true and apocryphal, most
of which fell upon heedless ears.
Ezra Girdlestone had four hours' start of them. That was the thought
which rankled in Tom's heart and outweighed every other consideration.
He knew Kate's nature so well that he was convinced that she would never
have expressed such fears to Mrs. Scully unless she had very assured
reasons for them. In fact, apart from her own words, what could this
secrecy and seclusion mean except foul play. After what he had learned
about the insurance of the ships and the manner in which the elder
Girdlestone had induced him to cease corresponding with Kate, he could
believe anything of his partners. He knew, also, that in case of Kate's
death the money reverted to her guardian. There was not a single link
missing in the chain of evidence which showed that a crime was in
contemplation. Then, who was that butcher-like man whom Ezra was taking
down with him? Tom could have torn his hair as he thought of his
present impotence and of his folly in losing sight of young Girdlestone.
The major has put it on record that those two hours appeared to him the
longest that ever he passed in his life, and Tom, no doubt, would
endorse the sentiment. Everything must have an end, however, and the
station clock, the hands of which seemed several times to have stopped
altogether, began at last to approach the hour at which the Portsmouth
train was timed to depart. Baumser and his two friends had come back,
all three smoking cigarettes, and looking the better for their visit to
the cookshop. The five got into a first-class railway carriage and
waited. Would they never have done examining tickets and stamping
luggage and going through all sorts of tedious formalities? At last,
thank God! comes the shrill whistle of the guard, the answering snort
from the engine, and they are fairly started upon their mission of
rescue.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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