‘It was a wonderful coincidence, if nothing more. It appeared that my wife’s uncle on his dying bed gave her a paper for my wife; and he charged her most solemnly to find her and deliver it, which has been done.’
‘And it was some secret cipher, bet my boots.’
‘On the contrary, it is only a letter—a valedictory letter, containing no clue whatever.’
‘Stranger, you take this matter sort of calm,’ said Slimm solemnly. ‘I should like to see that letter. Mark me; providence has a hand in this, and I want you not to forget it. Such a meeting as that between your wife and her old companion didn’t happen for nothing. Listen, and I’ll tell you what once happened to me in Australia. I shall never forget it. I’m a rich man now, for my wants; but I was poor then; in fact, it was just at the time when fortune had turned. I had, at the time I am speaking of, nearly a thousand ounces of dust buried in my tent. As far as I could tell, not a soul in the camp knew what I had, as I had kept it quiet. Well, one night, I started out to visit an old chum in a neighbouring claim. It was nearly dark when I started, and I had no companion but my dog. I had not gone very far when he began to act in a ridiculous manner, barking and snapping at my horse’s heels, till I thought he was stark mad. Then he turned towards home, stopping every now and then to whine, and finally he struck off home in a bee-line. I rode on, never thinking anything about it till suddenly my horse stumbled and nearly threw me. He had never done such a thing before, and I hadn’t got twenty yards before he did it again. Stranger! I want you to believe I was scared, and I don’t scare easy either. Then I thought of the tales I had read about dogs and their cunning, and, urged by something I can’t understand, I turned back. You’d better believe I’m glad I did. When I got back to my tent, I stole in quietly, and there were three of the biggest scoundrels in the camp digging away exactly over the gold. I didn’t give them much time for meditation, I reckon. It was a tough fight; but I saved my gold. I got this valentine to remember it by; darn their ugly pictures;’ and Mr Slimm bared his huge chest, and displayed a livid gash seamed and lined thereon.
‘And the robbers—what became of them?’
‘Suffocation,’ Slimm replied laconically. ‘The quality of mercy is strained pretty considerable in a mining camp.’
‘And the dog?’
‘Dead!—killed by these scoundrels. I ain’t powerful in the water-cart line; but I don’t mind saying I snivelled then. I can’t think of that faithful insect without a kind of lumpiness in my throat—And now, my friend, don’t you tell me there’s no such thing as fate. You mind if your affair don’t turn out trumps yet.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Edgar replied dubiously. ‘It is all forgotten now, though it was a nine days’ wonder in Somersetshire at the time.’
‘Somersetshire? Now, that’s strange. I’m going to Somersetshire in a few days to see a man I haven’t set eyes on for years. He is a very different man from me—a quiet, scholarly gentleman, a little older than myself. He is a bookish sort of man; and I met him in the mines. We kind of froze to each other; and when we parted, it was understood that whenever I came to England, I was to go and see him. What part of Somersetshire do you hail from?’