‘It is the custom of the bank to send a junior clerk to the home-going mail-steamer with late letters for England, which may be posted on board upon payment of an extra fee. This duty Royston asked to be allowed to perform on the present occasion, stating that he would be glad of the opportunity of seeing some friends off who were leaving by the steamer that day. He left the bank at three forty-five, was seen to go on board with a travelling-bag ten minutes later, and has not since been heard of. His other luggage, consisting of two portmanteaus, had been removed from his lodgings before daybreak, Royston having somehow obtained the services of a coolie, who states that, following his instructions, he first carried the luggage to an inn near the docks, subsequently transferring it thence by hand-truck to the ship as soon as the dock gates were opened. It should be remarked that Royston occupied rooms on the ground-floor, the landlord and his wife and the other lodgers sleeping on the first and second floors. But for this fact, it would probably have been impossible to effect the removal of the luggage without disturbing the other occupants of the house.
‘At five o’clock a telegram was received at the Alliance Bank: “De Vriespan, four thirty. Case just arrived. On being opened, found to contain nothing but lead-sheeting to exact weight of gold expected. Clerk in charge denies all knowledge. Wire any instructions.” A cab dashed furiously to the docks, its occupant the head-cashier, who, as he turned the corner towards the quay, was just able to descry the smoke of the vanishing steamer now four or five miles on her way. “Too late!” shouted the Steam Company’s agent as he passed on foot. “Ship sailed sharp at four thirty!”
‘The above incident will most probably give a sharp impetus to the movement, already initiated in Cape commercial circles, for the establishment of ocean cable communication with Great Britain direct, the importance of which, from an imperial as well as a colonial point of view, has long been recognised.’
A keen east wind was blowing in my teeth as I hurried along the Strand towards Temple Bar one morning in March, and as I bent my head to meet a more than usually piercing gust, I came against a passer-by, who answered my apology with a smile of recognition. ‘Mr Rodd, I think?’
It was no other than the polite detective, more polite than ever, because of the whirling dust and biting wind, against which the best of good-humour is so rarely proof.
‘Ah, sir,’ he went on, as we drew into a low archway for a moment’s talk, ‘you would be astonished to hear the story of the wildgoose chase we had after Mr Percival Royston last summer and autumn. If you would care to call in at my quarters any day after four o’clock, I should be very pleased to tell you about it.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied; ‘I will see. Meanwhile, how did it end?’
‘All wrong for us, I am sorry to say. He got clean away from us; and I don’t suppose we shall ever hear of him again.’
The sun shone out for a moment, and the wind seemed to have lost something of its bitter chill as I wished Detective Elms good-morning and passed on my way eastward.