"Never heard of Runyon Rufe!" says Nettleship, like it was George Washington or Alfred the Great.
"Here it is, better than I can tell it," said Mr. Phelps, handing me a printed proclamation:
TEN THOUSAND POUNDS REWARD.
Runyon Rufe, Banker and Company Promoter, wanted for gigantic frauds in connection with the Invincible Building Society, the Greater London Finance Syndicate, Suburbs Limited, and other undertakings. Fled to the United States, where he had previously put by sums aggregating two hundred thousand pounds; resisted extradition; forfeited his bail; was traced to Portland, Oregon, and thence to Penrhyn Island, South Pacific, where all clews as to his whereabouts were lost.
Aged sixty-three; height, five feet nine inches; imposing appearance; weight, fifteen stone and over; fair complexion; brown eyes, with bushy, gray eyebrows; scanty gray hair; of a plethoric habit, and with a noticeable hesitancy of speech. When last seen was well supplied with money, and was heard declaring his intention of making his way toward the lesser-traveled islands of the Pacific Ocean.
The above reward, in whole or in part, will be paid by Houghton & Cust, No. 318 George Street, Sydney, New South Wales, on receiving information that will lead to the arrest of the said Runyon Rufe.
Traders and others are cautioned against harboring the fugitive, or aiding and abetting his escape from the officers of justice.
I read it three times and then handed it back.
"Show me where to sign," says I.
"We have to go through the disagreeable formality of searching these premises," said Mr. Phelps, disregarding my joke, "and if you have no objections we shall begin now!"