Mr. Wright looked at him in amazement and horror. “The beast!” A son of Lord Birkenhead’s called “The beast!”
“To return to our case, Dr. Barton,” he went on severely, with some stress laid on the doctor. “Mr. Johnson died, leaving, by a will made on his death-bed, all that he possessed to his son Richard, or, in case of his decease, to the heirs of his body lawfully begotten. From that day to this we have hunted everywhere for the man. We have traced him all over the world; we have heard of him in Australia, Burmah, Guiana, Smyrna, but at Smyrna we lose sight of him. This advertisement,” said the old gentleman, taking up the outside sheet of the Times, and folding it so as to bring the second column into view, “remained for more than seven months unanswered, or only answered by impostors and idiots.”
He tapped his finger on the place as he handed the paper to Barton, who read aloud:
“Linkheaton.—If Richard Johnson, of Linkheaton, Durham, last heard of at Smyrna in 1875, will apply to Messrs. Martin and Wright, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, he will hear of something very greatly to his advantage. His father died, forgiving him. A reward of £1,000 will be paid to anyone producing Richard Johnson, or proving his decease.”
“As a mixture of business with the home affections,” said old Mr. Wright proudly (for the advertisement was of his own composition), “I think that leaves little ta be desired.”
“It is admirable,” said Barton—“admirable; but may I ask——”
“Where the tattooing comes in?” said Mr. Wright. “I am just approaching that. The only person from whom we received any reliable information about Richard Johnson was an old ship-mate of his, a wandering, adventurous character, now, I believe, in Paraguay, where we cannot readily communicate with him. According to his account, Johnson was an ordinary seafaring man, tanned, and wearing a black beard, but easily to be recognized for an excellent reason. He was tattooed almost all over his whole body.”
Barton nearly leaped out of his chair, the client’s chair, so sudden a light flashed on him.
“What is the matter, Dr. Barton! I thought I should interest you; but you seem quite excited.”
“I really beg your pardon,” said Barton. “It was automatic, I think; besides, I am extremely interested in tattooing.”