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Hunston was at last so tortured that, disguising himself, he one day left the mountains, and sought the advice of a surgeon. "The man who planned this arm," said the surgeon to whom Hunston submitted it for examination, "must have devoted a lifetime to the manufacture and perfecting of this mechanical limb." Hunston smiled.
It was put to the vote and found that everybody, without a single exception, was desirous of seeing the back of Hunston. Who can wonder? None. "Well, well," said old Jack, "that is agreed upon. And now, Emily, my dear, I hope that your mind is at rest." "Almost." "What! doesn't that satisfy you yet?"
He handed Peter the paper, his thumb crooked to indicate the place, which was superfluous; for near the middle of the front page, top of column and in the strong type of captions, the words leaped out to Peter's eye as though hand-illumined in many colors: FERRIS STANHOPE OR LAURENCE VARNEY Mystery Surrounding Young Man On Yacht Near Hunston.
He was in bed when I was there just now. He asked me to go to Hunston and bring his daughter to him. I told him that kidnapping was a little out of my line. 'Kidnapping is rather a harsh word, he said. 'Yes, said I, 'it's a criminal word, I believe. But " Peter looked up, interrupting. "Is this all straight? Is that really what he wants you to do?" "Naturally, Peter. Why not?
Under any ordinary circumstances he would have felt tolerably easy, for well as he knew what an ugly customer was Jack Harkaway in a tussle, he was also aware that Jack would not take advantage of an enemy's powerless condition, no matter how deep were the wrongs inflicted. The murder of Harkaway's boy, Hunston knew well, was a crime which Harkaway would never look over. His fate was sealed.
The next moment a voice floated to him out of the blackness near at hand, clear, but a little irresolute, faintly frightened. "Didn't some one come in? Who is there?" It was a woman's voice and a wholly charming one. There could hardly have been its match in Hunston. "What a very interesting town!" the young man thought. "People to talk to every way you turn."
Not a soul in Hunston must dimly suspect what he had come for. It must be gum-shoe work from start to finish, and the Cypriani's motto would be the inspiring word, "Sh-h-h." Though he had to find a nondescript child whom he did not know from Eve, he was forbidden to do it in a natural, easy, and dashing way.
That arm did its inventor's work well, indeed. Not a day passed but Hunston realised the truth of the legend inscribed on the mechanical arm. Not a day passed, but that he saw how fearfully was the legacy of vengeance bequeathed by the murdered Protean Bob being carried out. Dropping his glance in some confusion for a moment, he turned sharply upon the brigand after a little reflection.
Elbert Carstairs lives in Hunston. Putting two and two together, and adding the painted-out name and a dash of seeming furtiveness on my part, you have all the materials for a nice, yellow mystery.
Hunston would have retorted at this, but prudence bade him be silent. For the girl was a great favourite with all the men, and he feared that they might take up the cudgels for her in a way which might be unpleasant for him. "So, young Harkaway," he said, jeeringly, "you wish to see it all go before you. It prolongs your pleasure, and so I can't complain. This one next."
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