"Good-night."

When Prendergast had left the room, Dr. Nikola lit another cigar and
turned his attentions to Mr. Baxter.

"Six months ago, Mr. Baxter, I found for you a situation as tutor to the
young Marquis of Beckenham. You still hold it, I suppose?"

"I do."

"Is the father well disposed towards you?"

"In every way. I have done my best to ingratiate myself with him. That
was one of your instructions."

"Yes, yes! But I was not certain that you would succeed. If the old man
is anything like what he was when I last met him he must still be a
difficult person to deal with. Does the boy like you?"

"I hope so."

"Have you brought me his photograph as I directed?"

"I have. Here it is."

Baxter took a photograph from his pocket and handed it across the table.

"Good. You have done very well, Mr. Baxter. I am pleased with you.
To-morrow morning you will go back to Yorkshire----"

"I beg your pardon, Bournemouth. His Grace owns a house near
Bournemouth, which he occupies during the summer months."

"Very well--then to-morrow morning you will go back to Bournemouth and
continue to ingratiate yourself with father and son. You will also begin
to implant in the boy's mind a desire for travel. Don't let him become
aware that his desire has its source in you--but do not fail to foster
it all you can. I will communicate with you further in a day or two. Now
go."

Baxter in his turn left the room. The door closed. Dr. Nikola picked up
the photograph and studied it.

"The likeness is unmistakable--or it ought to be. My friend, my very
dear friend, Wetherell, my toils are closing on you. My arrangements are
perfecting themselves admirably. Presently, when all is complete, I
shall press the lever, the machinery will be set in motion, and you will
find yourself being slowly but surely ground into powder. Then you will
hand over what I want, and be sorry you thought fit to baulk Dr.
Nikola!"

He rang the bell and ordered his bill. This duty discharged, he placed
the cat back in its prison, shut the lid, descended with the basket to
the hall, and called a hansom. The porter inquired to what address he
should order the cabman to drive. Dr. Nikola did not reply for a moment,
then he said, as if he had been thinking something out: "The _Green
Sailor_ public-house, East India Dock Road."

CHAPTER I

I DETERMINE TO TAKE A HOLIDAY.--SYDNEY, AND WHAT BEFEL ME THERE

First and foremost, my name, age, descri