The Red Rat's Daughter

Browne did as he was requested, and followed him down a passage to a room at the farther end. Browne's visits were red-letter days in the calendar of the firm. When the lad returned to his high stool in the office, it was to wonder how he would spend his time if he were the possessor of such enormous wealth. It is questionable whether he would have considered Browne so fortunate had he been made acquainted with all the circumstances of the case. He was an irreproachable youth in every way, who during the week wore a respectable black coat and top-hat, and lived at Blackheath; while on Sundays he rode a tandem bicycle with the girl of his heart, and dreamt of the cottage they were to share together, directly the firm could be persuaded to make the salary, on which it was to be supported, a little more elastic.

"How do you do, my dear Mr. Browne?" inquired the lawyer, rising from his chair as Browne entered, and extending his hand. "I understood you were in Paris."

"I returned last night," said Browne. "I came up early because I want to see you on rather important business."

"I am always at your service," replied the lawyer, bringing forward a chair for Browne's use. "I hope you are not very much worried."

"As a matter of fact, Bretherton, I have come to see you, because at last I am going to follow your advice, and – well, the long and the short of it is, I am going to be married!"

The lawyer almost jumped from his chair in surprise. "I am delighted to hear it," he answered. "As I have so often said, I feel sure you could not do a wiser thing. I have not the pleasure of knowing Miss Verney; nevertheless – "

Browne held up his hand in expostulation. "My dear fellow," he said, with a laugh, "you are on the wrong scent altogether. What on earth makes you think I am going to marry Miss Verney? I never had any such notion."

The lawyer's face was a study in bewilderment. "But I certainly understood," he began, "that – "

"So have a great many other people," said Browne. "But I can assure you it is not the case. The lady I am going to marry is a Russian."

"Ah, to be sure," continued the lawyer. "Now I come to think of it, I remember that my wife pointed out to me in some ladies' paper, that the Princess Volgourouki was one of your yachting party at Cowes last summer."

"Not the Princess either," said Browne. "You seem bent upon getting upon the wrong tack. My fiancée is not a millionairess; her name is Petrovitch. She is an orphan, an artist, and has an income of about three hundred pounds a year."

The lawyer was unmistakably shocked and disappointed. He had hoped to be able to go home that night and inform his wife, that he was the first to hear of the approaching marriage of his great client with some well-known beautiful aristocrat or heiress. Now to find that he was going to espouse a girl, who was not only unknown to the great world, but was quite lacking in wealth, was a disappointment almost too great to be borne. It almost seemed as if Browne had offered him a personal affront; for, although his client was, in most respects, an easy-going young man, still the lawyer was very well aware that there were times when he could be as obstinate as any other man. For this reason he held his tongue, and contented himself with bowing and drawing a sheet of note paper towards him. Then, taking up a pen, he inquired in what way he could be of service.

"The fact of the matter is, Bretherton," the other began, "I have a communication to make to you which I scarcely know how to enter upon. The worst of it is that, for very many reasons, I cannot tell you anything definite. You must fill in the blanks according to your own taste and fancy; and, according to how much you can understand, you can advise me as to the best course for me to pursue."

He paused for a moment, and during the interval the lawyer withdrew his glasses from his nose, polished them, and replaced them. Having done so, he placed his finger-tips together, and, looking at Browne over them, waited for him to proceed.

"The fact of the matter is," said the latter, "before I marry I have pledged myself to the accomplishment of a certain work, the nature of which I cannot explain – I have given my word that I will reveal nothing. However, the fact remains that it will take me into some rather strange quarters for a time; and for this reason it is just possible that I – well, that you may never see me again."

"My dear Mr. Browne," said the lawyer, aghast with surprise, "you astonish me more than I can say. Can it be that you are running such risk of your own free-will? I cannot believe that you are serious."

"But I am," Browne replied; "perfectly serious."

"But have you considered everything? Think what this may mean, not only to the young lady you are about to marry, but to all your friends."

"I have thought of everything," said Browne.

The lawyer was, however, by no means satisfied. "But, my dear sir," he continued, "is there no way in which you can get out of it?"

"Not one," said Browne. "I have given the matter my earnest attention, and have pledged myself to carry it out. No argument will move me. What I want you to do is to make my will to suit the exigencies of the case."

"Perhaps it would not be troubling you too much to let me know of what they consist," said the lawyer, whose professional ideas were altogether shocked by such unusual – he almost thought insane – behaviour.

"Well, to put it in a few words," said Browne, "I want you to arrange that, in the event of anything happening to me, all of which I am possessed, with the exception of such specific bequests as those of which you are aware, shall pass to the lady whom I would have made my wife had I not died. Do you understand?"

"I understand," said the lawyer; "and if you will furnish me with the particulars I will have a fresh will drawn up. But I confess to you I do not approve of the step you are taking."

"I am sorry for that," Browne replied. "But if you were in my place I fancy you would act as I am doing." Having said this, he gave the lawyer the particulars he required; and, when he left the office a quarter of an hour or so later, he had made Katherine Petrovitch the inheritor of the greater part of his enormous wealth. Whatever should happen to him within the next few months she would at least be provided for. From his lawyer's office he drove to his bank to deposit certain papers; then to his tailor; and finally back to his own house in Park Lane, where he hoped and expected to find the captain of his yacht awaiting him. He was not disappointed. Captain Mason had just arrived, and was in the library at that moment. The latter was not of the usual yachting type. He was short and stout, possessed an unusually red face, which was still further ornamented by a fringe of beard below his chin; he had been at sea, man and boy, all his life, and had no sympathy with his brother-skippers who had picked up their business in the Channel, and whose longest cruise had been to the Mediterranean and back. He had been in old Browne's employ for ten years, and in that of his son after him. What was more, he had earned the trust and esteem of all with whom he was brought in contact; and when Browne opened the door and found that smiling, cheerful face confronting him, he derived a feeling of greater satisfaction than he had done from anything for some considerable time past.

CHAPTER XVI

"Good-morning, Mason," Browne said, as he shook hands. "I am glad that you were able to come up at once, for I want to consult you on most important business. Sit down, and let us get to work. You were not long in getting under way."

"I started directly I received your message, sir," the man replied. "Perhaps you would not mind telling me what it is I have to do."

"I'll very soon do that," Browne replied; "and, if I know anything of you, you will be glad to hear my needs. I want to see you with regard to a cruise in Eastern waters. I am tired of the English winter, and, as you are aware, I have never yet visited Japan, I've suddenly made up my mind to go out there. How soon do you think you could be ready to start?"

"For Japan, sir?" the captain replied. "Well, that's a goodish step. Might I ask, sir, how long you can give me? Are you in a very great hurry?"

"A very great hurry indeed," Browne said. "I want to get away at the shortest possible notice; in fact, the sooner you can get away, the better I shall be pleased. I know you will do all you can."

"You may be very sure of that, sir," said the captain. "If it is really necessary, I fancy I could be ready – well, shall we say? – on Monday next. Would that suit you, sir?"

"It would do admirably," said Browne. "I may count, then, on being able to sail on that day?"

"Certainly, sir," said the captain. "I will catch the next train back, and get to work without loss of time. Your own steward, I suppose, will accompany you?"

"Yes," said Browne, for he was convinced that the man was one in whose honesty and courage he could place implicit reliance, which was just what would be wanted on such a voyage.

"And how many guests will you be likely to have, sir?" inquired the captain. "I suppose you will fill all the cabins as usual?"

This was a question to which Browne had not yet given any proper consideration, though he had practically decided on one person. The voyage from England to Japan, as all the world knows, is a long one, and he felt that if he went alone he would stand a very fair chance of boring himself to death with his own company.

"I am not able to say yet who will accompany me; but in any case you had better be prepared for one or two. It is more than possible, however, that we shall pick up a few others in Japan."

"Very good, sir," said Mason. "I will see that all the necessary arrangements are made. Now I suppose I had better see about getting back to Southampton."

Having consulted his watch, he rose from his chair, and was about to bid his employer good-bye, when Brown stopped him.

"One moment more, Mason," he said. "Before you go I have something to say to you, that is of the utmost importance to both of us." He paused for a moment, and from the gravity of his face the captain argued that something more serious was about to follow. "I wanted to ask you whether you had any sort of acquaintance with the seas to the northward of Japan, say in the vicinity of the island of Yesso and the Gulf of Tartary?"

"I cannot say that I have any at all, sir," the other replied. "But I could easily make inquiries from men who have sailed in them, and procure some charts from Potter, if you consider it necessary."

"I should do so if I were you," said Browne; "it is always as well to be prepared. In the meantime, Mason, I want you to keep what I have said to yourself. I have the most imperative reasons for making this request to you. A little mistake in this direction may do me an incalculable amount of harm."

Though he did not in the least understand what prompted the request, the captain willingly gave his promise. It was easy for Browne, however, to see that it had caused him considerable bewilderment.

"And there is one other point," Browne continued. "I want you to be more than ordinarily careful that the crew you take with you are the best men procurable. I am not going to say any more to you, but leave you to draw your own conclusions, and to bear in mind that this voyage is likely to be one of the most, if not the most, important I have ever undertaken. You have been with me a good many years now, and you were with my father before me – it is not necessary for me to say not only as captain, but also as a man who is an old and well-tried friend."

"I thank you, sir, for what you have said," said the captain. "In reply, I can only ask you to believe that, happen what may, you will not find me wanting."

"I am quite sure of that," said Browne, holding out his hand.

The captain took it, and, when he had shaken it as if he would dislocate it at the shoulder, bade his employer good-bye and left the room.

"So much for breaking the news to Mason," said Browne to himself, when the door had closed behind the skipper. "Now I must see Jimmy Foote, and arrange it with him."

He glanced at his watch, and found that it wanted only a few minutes to twelve o'clock. Ringing the bell, he bade the footman telephone to the Monolith Club, and inquire whether Mr. Foote were there; and if he were not, whether they could tell him where it would be possible to find him. The man disappeared upon his errand, to return in a few moments with the information that Mr. Foote had just arrived at the club in question.