JOHN FORDYCE’S PLOT.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXI, Issue XXVII, 31 December 1898, Page 843

JOHN FORDYCE’S PLOT.

(By William Murray Gray don.) Karl Hamrach had gone home early that afternoon to prepare tor the night journey, via Harwich, to l.rrmen, whither he had been summoned on urgent business. The second partner of the firm had a dinner engagement, ami so it fell to Matthew Quin’s lot to settle up the day's work and leave instructions for the morrow’. It was nearly S o'clock when he left the emporium. and as he strode westward through the December fog. through the gloomy, deserted city streets, he wondered how many months would pass before he sat down to his desk again. For the next morning he was to leave London, sailing from Tilbury docks for South Africa; thence to Johannesburg, via Kimberley, and ultimately to that part of Bechuanaland and the Kalahari desert, which lies northwest of the Transvaal. The object of the expedition was, of course, to collect a quantity of wild animals for shipment to England. In King William street, near the monument, Quin was stopped by a man coming from the opposite direction; his features were almost hidden by the brim of his hat and the upturned collar of his overcoat.

‘Mr Quin?' he said. ‘That’s right. But I fear you have the advantage of me.’

‘l’m John Fordyce.' Quin at once recalled the name. He knew' little of the man, though, except that he had several times dropped in to see Karl Hamrach. ’What can I do for you?' he asked. ‘I was on my way to the office—Mr Hamrach said 1 should probably find you there.' was the reply. ‘lf you will kindly read this.' He produced an envelope, and Quin opened it by the light of a tobacconist’s window. It contained the following brief letter, undoubtedly in the handwriting* of his employer:My Dear Quin. The bearer. John Fordyce, has a request to make. Il appears reasonable, and I would suggest that you grant it. Good-bye. and good luck to von.—Yours in haste. KAHL HAMRACH.' ‘Where did you get this?' Quin asked. At Liverpool street station, from my friend Mr Hamrach.' was the satisfactory answer. ‘And what do you wish?' ‘A slight favour,' said John Fordyce. ‘You sail for South Africa in the morning. I believe, and you are taking out a lot of supplies f< r the expedition. I want to ship some goods—tinned goods in boxes—to Johannesburg, and I am anxious that they should go straight through. There will be no trouble about that, if you w r ill allow me to put your name upon them and send them to your ship, the Cumberland Castle, as if they were a part of your equipment. I will mark each with a blue cross, and the charges shall be prepaid when they are delivered at the dock.'

‘Suppose they are opened by custom officers?' suggested Quin. ‘They won't be.' was the calm reply. ‘The protection of your name will carry them through untouched. Mr Hamrach assured me that the equipments for his expeditions passed in all countries.' ‘Yes; that's true.' admitted Quin. ‘And when the stuff reaches Johannesburg ?’ ‘lt will be called for immediately. You will give it upon receipt of an order from a certain Robert Smith.' Quin did not reply immediately. He saw through the matter, he believed; but he did not like it, and he wished it was in his power to refuse. I'he letter was genuine, however, and there was no alternative unless he chose to disregard his employer's wishes, lie thought of telegraphing to Harwich to make sure that there was no mistake or misunderstanding, but he changed his mind when he remembered Karl Hamrach's peppery disposition. ‘Semi the boxes to the steamer, if you like.' hr said, curtly. ‘Thank you. very much,' replied .John Fordyce, who had been waiting with calm confidence. ‘I shall not forget your kindness. Are you going my way?* \’o.' muttered Quin. Hr watched Karl Hamrach's mysterious f»*b rd \anisb in thr fog. ’Then hr hailed a passing cab, stepped into

it. ami gave his Bloomsbury address io thr driver.

‘I don't care to be saddled with such a resjionsibility.' hr reflected, as hr rolled along towards the bank. ‘Of course, it's all a trick to run some valuable goods into thr Transvaal free of duty. Hamrach may have a finger in the speculation himself, but it's more reasonable to suppose that he is only obliging a friend. Anyway, he needn't have selected me for a

catspa w. With that Quin dismissed the matter from his mind, for he had more important things to think of. But ten heavy boxes, bearing his own name and marked with blue crosses, joined his legitimate luggage in the hold of the ('umberland Castle thr next morning. They accompanied him to Johannesburg, where he arrived in due course of time, and were promptly claimed and carted off by a drayman, who presented an order signed by Robert Smith. This was not the end of the affair, as Quin hoped. He was to learn more of the boxes of ‘tinned goods' in the future, and renew his brief acquaintance with the mysterious John Fordyce. 'The months which followed, eventful as they were in their own way. have no direct bearing on the narrative. In October of the same year, after a trying but successful expedition to thr Kalahari desert, Quin found himself back in .Johannesburg. A week after his arrival, at the close of the day. he was standing at the window of his hotel room. Below him was the bustling main street of that mushroom town, which now boasted three railways, a magnificent stock exchange, fine banks and churches, club-houses and shops. On the previous day the valuable ami large lot of animals, accompanied by Carruthers and a number of helpers. had left by rail for Delagoa Bay. whence they would be shipped to England. 'l'he next morning Quin was to start for (’ape Town by way of Kimberley, there to catch a fast mail steamer. He had already purchased his ticket, and he had no inclination to remain longer in Johannesburg. I'he town was in a restless, unsettled state, owing to thr wrongs of the Outlanders. Their unjust treatment by the Boer Government, and the heavy taxation to which they were subjected, threatened to lead speedily to a crisis of one sort or a nother. ‘lt's bound to come.' reflected Quin, whose sympathies were, of course, with the Outlanders, ‘and before the close of the year, if I'm not mistaken.' As he turned from the window hr heard a loud rapping, and without waiting for an invitation a man entered the room and shut Ihr door behind him. ‘Hullo! you here?’ Quin exclaimed in surprise, for he instantly recognised his visitor as John Fordyce. ‘Yes; I've been in Johannesburg four months.' was the reply. ‘l'm sorry to ask another favour of you. Mr (Juin; but I knew you were going down country to-morrow. and I thought you wouldn't mind taking a small packet with you.' As he spoke he produced a bulky envelope, sealed with wax. and addressed to a prominent broker of Cape Town.

‘lt's quite harmless, but important.' he added. ‘lt refers to a stork speculation.' ‘Really, this is too much.* said Quin, in a vexed tone. ‘Why don't you send it by post?' ‘Because the Boer officials are in thr habit of opening letters.' Fordyce replied. ‘and if thr deal that I intend to make came to their knowledge thr\ would not hesitate to use it to their own advantage on the exchange.' Quin was aware that this was true, and the fact went far to allay what slight suspicion hr felt. ‘You are almost a stranger to me. Mr Fordyce.' he said, ‘and your request is certainly a cool one. Bui I don't like to refuse so small a service, and I’ll take the letter, if you will gi\•* me your word of honour that it con tains no more than what you hate stated.' ‘lt refers to a deal in storks- that is all.' declared Fordyce. ‘l'm awfulh obliged to you. sir. and if you ever want a good tip you'll know where to get *t. I must )»e off at mire I hate a pressing engagement. Thanks again for your kindness. With that he thrust the envelope into (Jilin's hands, opened the door, it <1 was gone. His rapid footsteps died away.

‘I don’t like this business, but I suppose I am in for it now,’ Quin said to himself. ‘l’m too good-natured, that’s the trouble.’ After a moment’s thought he concealed the letter under the mattress of the bed. Then he left the room, locked the door behind him, and passed out of the hotel to the street. He dined at a. restaurant a short distance away, and later went with an acquaintance to a chib, where he played cards for an hour. It was 9 o’clock when he left, and as he was walking alone through a dark street he met a friend —an English broker of Johannesburg named Brown. ‘1 was looking for you,' the latter said. ‘Where are you going?’ ‘Home to my hotel,’ Quin replied. ‘You can't go there. My dear fellow, you are in a bad scrape; you must get out of the town at once.’ ‘Have von gone dotty. Brown?' ‘I don't wonder you think so.' the banker replied. ‘But listen: I will tell you all briefly. John Fordyce was shadowed when he called on you at the hotel, and when he returned to his lodgings he was arrested. He confessed nothing: but. nevertheless, the police broke into your room, searched it, and found the sealed letter.’ ‘What was in it?’ gasped Quin. ‘Papers relating to the fortifications and the military strength of every town in the Transvaal. I tell you this in confidence. And, what is more, I he Government has discovered that

you brought ten cases of arms into .Johannesburg some months ago.’ ‘That scoundrel Fordyce!’ exclaimed Quin. ‘What a dupe I have been! Ah, I see it all. The Outlanders are planning a rising, and you are mixed up in it. Otherwise you would not know so much.’

‘I won’t say anything about that; form your own opinion.' ‘But why was I dragged into it? Good heavens, T shall be ruined! I always counted you as a friend, Brown.’ ‘And rightly so. Fordyce made use of you without the knowledge of any

one else. I’m bitterly sorry, but that doesn’t mend matters. If you are caught you will get a heavy sentence of imprisonment. You won't be able to prove your innocence.’

Quin realised that he was indeed in a terrible plight. ‘What am I to do?’ he asked. ‘Leave town at once. The police are waiting for your return at the hotel, and I believe they are also watching the Kimberley ■station; they know you have a ticket on that line. Have you a revolver?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And money?" ‘One hundred pounds.’ ‘Here are £5O more.’ The banker produced a roll of notes. ‘Your only chance is to escape by the Pretoria nnd Delagoa Bay line,’ he went on hurriedly. ‘There is no train till morning, so you must hire a special. The stationmaster will give it to you if you mention my name: you will probably find him in his office. Once over the border, you will be all right. If you insist, I’ll go with you— ’ ‘No, that would be risky for yon.’ interrupted Quin. ‘You are right, I am in danger enough now, and I must face it out. But you must be off: every moment is precious.’

A hasty grip of the hand, a few words of farewell, and the men separated. For an instant Quin gazed stupidly after the retreating form of the banker. Then he pulled himself together, and, with his usual courage, grasped the situation. If he was caught, he knew well, nothing could save him from a term of imprisonment. He vowed to escape at all hazards as he made his way across the town. And he looked forward to a future day of reckoning with John Fordyce. The station of the Pretoria and Delagoa Bay railway was safely reached. A train had just left for Pretoria, and Quin found the stationmaster in his office. He was an Englishman, and probably in the confidence of the Uitlanders. for the mention of the banker’s name thawed his reserve, and he listened with attention to his visitor's request. Tt seems to be an urgent case, sir.’ he remarked. ‘lt is,’ replied Quin. Tt is a case of catching a steamer. I must be in Lorenzo Marquez to-morrow.’ ‘Then, for the sake of speed, you had better not take a carriage,’ said the stationmaster. ‘You can have a special engine for £l2O. 1 will give you a good one, and two hands to run it. And I will wire instructions to have the line cleared.’ Quin thanked the man with as much calmness as he could assume. He paid over the money, and then waited for twenty anxious minutes, during which he constantly expected the arrival of the police. But at last the engine drew alongside the platform, and he mounted to the limited quarters of the stoker andi driver, who were both"' Boers. A moment later, with a thankful heart, he was watching the station recede in the distance. And when Johannesburg was only a glow on the horizon he took a deep breath and

wiped the perspiration from his face.

‘I won’t be safe until I cross the Portugese border.’ he reflected; ‘for if the police discover how I got away—as they are likely to do—they will wire ahead and have me stopped. But it shan't be my fault if I fail to get through.’ At 2 o’clock in the morning, after a splendid run, the engine dived into the risky and winding passes of the Quathlamba mountains. It went through them gallantly, though at a reduced speed.and emerged an hour and a-half later in the farther part of the Transvaal that adjoins the Portugese border. And a few' miles beyond the blow that Quin still dreaded fell. A curve of the line revealed a flashing light, at sight of which the driver immediately shut off steam and brought the engine to a stop opposite a small wayside station; a yellow glimmer was seen through the crevices of the door. ‘What’s wrong?’ Quin demanded, anxiously. ‘I don’t know,’ replied the driver; ‘but you see- the signal to pull up. This is the station for New Rotterdam —the village lies a mile to the left.’

‘There must be a mistake!’ exclaimed Quin. ‘Go on; the line is surely clear!’ The driver shook his head firmly. ‘No; we must wait,’ he said. ‘We shall soon know why we are stopped.’ Quin knew the reason well enough, and a prison cell seemed to yawn before him. But a minute passed, and his fears were not confirmed; no armed Boers rushed out of the station. He was wondering if it would be feasible to cover his companions w'ith a pistol and make them take him on, when the silence was broken by a shrill cry for help, followed by a noise like distant thunder; the sounds came from the interior of the station. ‘That’s Fontein’s voite,’ the driver said to his assistant. ‘l’ll go and see what’s up. You stay here, Piet.’ ‘l’ll go with you,’ said Quin. ‘Come along.’ The stoker remained to guard the engine. Quin and the driver jumped

off and hurried toward the station, the latter shouting lustily. They crossed the platform, threw open the door, and stopped as though petrified. For a dozen feet within the lighted room crouched a tawny beast with blazing eyeballs—a huge African lion. With a yell of fright the driver turned and fled. Quin followed him as far as the end of the platform, and by that time he had his revolver out. He stopped and wheeled round, just as the lion, roaring savagely, bounded out at the doorway. There was no time to hesitate—no chance to retreat further. By a tremendous leap the brute landed within six feet of Quin, and at once he fired three shots straight at the fiery eyes. Then he fell off the platform, ran back to a clump of bushes, and waited there while the smoke slowly curled upward. He heard a succession of thumping noises, mingled with roars of agony. As soon as they ceased, which was in less than a minute, he returned cautiously and found the lion quite dead. The driver and stoker, who were not aware of the fact, could be seen clinging to the highest part of the engine. Quin hesitated for a moment, uncertain what to do; then, hearing loud voices close by, curiosity mastered his prudence. In spite of the peril that he believed threatened him, he hurried into the station, which was a single large room serving for the combined purpose of booking, goods and telegraph offices. The scene that met his gaze here was more laughable than alarming. A dozen feet in the air, wedged between the roof and the beams that extended under it, were two men. One was an unmistakeable Boer, short and fat, and his fellow prisoner was Carruthers. The latter, with a shout of surprise, disentangled himself, and dropped heavily to the floor. He rose with difficulty to his feet, shaking on his cramped limbs. ‘What are you doing' here?’ Quin gasped. ‘I might ask you the same,’ was the reply. ‘ls the lion dead?’

‘Yes,’ I put three balls into it. Where did the creature come from?’ ‘lt’s yours.’ ‘My lion! What do you mean?’ ‘lt’s true enough, sir,’ Carruthers explained. ‘When the train pulled up here yesterday the lion escaped. So I stopped over, taking the cage with me, and after a lively chase I cornered the brute in a Dutch farmhouse back of the village. I and some others drove it into the cage and hauled it to the station. It was 8 o’clock in the evening then, and there was no train till the middle of the next day. So I settled down to make a night of it with the telegraph operator. Fontein. That’s him up yonder.’ ‘Yes, I understand,’ Quin replied curtly. He glanced at the Boer, who was struggling hard to extricate himself from his uncomfortable perch. ‘What happened then?’ he added. ‘Go on, quick! A message came over the wires from Johannesburg ’ ‘How did you know that?’ exclaimed Carruthers. ‘But you are right. A message came from somewhere about an hour ago. Fontein put it down on paper, and pulled the handle of that signal yonder. Then he rushed for the door, but before he could reach it, hanged if the lion didn’t make a spring and break loose the second time. The jolting of the train must have weakened the cage. The brute was in a fearful temper, not having been fed properly, and he nearly got us. It was a close call, but we scrambled on top of the closet, and from there to the beams. And a nice time we’ve had of it since, with the hungry brute waiting below for us to drop. It was no use to shout, for the village was too far away. And if you hadn't come along ’ ‘That will do,’ Quin interrupted. ‘Where’s the paper the fellow copied the message on?’ ‘There on the floor.’

Quin picked it up—first elosing the door—and with a grim smile he read the following:

‘Signal special engine, due about 4, to stop. Have armed men in waiting. Arrest Englishman ami send him back under escort to Johannesburg.’ Crash! The operator, free at last, had dropped from the beams. He staggered to his feet, looked about him with a frightened countenance, and made a bolt for the window. Quin instantly levelled his revolver. ‘No. you don’t.’ he cried. ‘Stop, oi I'll put a bullet through you!’ The Boer was a plucky fellow, but he saw that he was cornered. He made a virtue of necessity, and confronted Quin with a savage look. ‘You’ll be sorry for this!’ he snarled. ‘Have you a weapon?’ Quin demanded. ‘No; or you wouldn’t have taken me,’ was the reply. Just then a Shout was heard, evidently from a point nearer than the engine. Quin realised the danger and formed a plan at once. ‘Sit down, Fontein, or whatever your name is,’ he commanded, pointing to the chair at the operator’s table. ‘The driver is coming in. and you will agree to every word I tell you. Disobey. and 1 swear I’ll shoot you on the spot. Do you understand?’ The Boer nodded and took his seat. ‘Your part will be to keep quiet,’ Quin added to the mystified Carruthers. As he spoke footsteps were heard on the platform. He stood over the Boer, with the hand holding the revolver thrust carelessly into his side pocket. The next instant the door opened, and the driver appeared on the threshold of the room. ‘What’s wrong here?’ he demanded. ‘Has the lion yonder been trying to run the place, Fontein?’ ‘You’ve hit it. my man.’ Quin spoke up. ‘The lion had the operator and this other chap treed on the rafters. That's why you were signalled to stop. But it's all right now. since I settled the brute. Go back to your engine, and I'll join you in a few minutes.

I’m going to send a despatch to Johannesburg.' "The line is dear, then, Fontein?’ the driver asked, looking at him in a doubtful and puzzled manner. ‘Yes, it’s clear,’ the operator answered. huskily.

The driver backed out of the station and dosed the door. He crossed the platform ami stepped to the ground. Quin drew a deep breath of relief.

•No time to lose,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask questions now, Carruthers. I’ll explain later. Here, take the pistol, and put a ball through this fellow if he stirs or cries out.’

Carruthers obeyed, and Quin bent over the table. By a lucky chance he knew the telegraphic code and how to use the instrument, and that information was now to be of the greatest service to him. He called Johannesburg. received a signal from that end, and at once ticked off the following message: ‘Engine stopped and Englishman arrested. Will send him back in custody. Am just elosing office. FONTEIN.’ ‘Unless I sun much mistaken, there will be no stoppage signals further along the line,’ Quin muttered, as he turned away. He looked about for a moment and found a pair of sharp nippers. ‘Take these and give me the revolver,’ he said to Carruthers. ‘Now get out of the rear window and go up the line till you can’t be seen from the engine. Shin up one of the poles—• you’re a good climber—and cut the wires. Be ns quick as you can.’

Carruthers was out of the window in a trice, and for ten anxious minutes —for he dreaded the return of the driver or stoker—Quin kept guard over the Boer, who vented his rage in low-spoken threats and profanity. Then Carruthers climbed into the room as he had left it, breathing hard. •It’s all right,’ he panted. ‘The wires are down.’ ‘Good!’ exclaimed Quin. Now give me a hand with this fellow.’ In two minutes the operator was gagged with a strip of his own shirt-, and his arms were bound behind him. Then he was thrust into the closet and the door locked upon him. ‘lf you do any kicking I’ll come back and kill you,’ Quin called through the keyhole. Tiemember that.’ The two Englishmen calmly left the station, shouting goodby to Fontein as they closed the door. ‘This man is going on with me,’ Quin said, as he mounted the engine, followed by Carruthers. The stoker looked questioningly at the driver, and the latter, after an instant of hesitation, pulled the lever. The engine bounded forward into the night, and the station of New Rotterdam faded in the distance.

Lorenzo Marquez was about eighty miles distant, and 40 miles of the journey lay within Transvaal territory, where the engine was likely to be stopped if the operator should effect an early escape and reopen telegraphic communication. This was the only contingency that. Quin feared, for he believed that the message he had sen! would prevent further action on the part of the Johannesburg police.

But all went well. The driver and stoker, though they probably suspected that something was wrong, were too prudent to shirk their duty or to try to overpower the two Englishmen. I’he miles fell steadily and swiftly behind, and nt 6 o clock in the morning the Portuguese boundary line was eiossed. Iwo hours later the engine drew up outside the station at Lorenzo Marquez.

A vessel was waiting in port, and the trainload of animals, which had arrived safely, was put on board within the next two days. Meanwhile no attempt was made to apprehend Quin, and on the following morning, from the steamer’s deck, he and Carruthers watched the Portuguese coast fading on the horizon. After a prosperous voyage they reached the Thames, and soon after they read of thegallant but unsuccessful raid into the Transvaal, the failure of which Quin attributed to the. foreknowledge of the event learned by the Boers through the arrest of John Fordyee. That well meaning individual, it may be said, was sentenced to several years' imprisonment.

‘We were both imposed upon.' Karl Ilamraeh exclaimed, when he heard the story from Quin. ‘Fordyce belong-

ed to my club; 1 knew nothing of him beyond that. He met me that night at Liverpool-street and asked if he might join your party to Bechuanaland for the sake of the sport, offering to pay his own expenses. I referred him to you ’ "Yes, by means of a written message that was capable of any construction,’ interposed Quin. ‘As a result you have lost a tine lion, and are considerably more than £lOO out of pocket, while my name is on the black list of the Transvaal government.’