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Dr Nikola - ebook
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Dr Nikola - ebook
Nicola is a very interesting and creepy character, you are never sure how much he will go and what evil he is really capable of. The main character is actually recruited and works together with Nicola as a partner, which shows Nicolaou a more personal side. He could still do evil supernatural acts, and the threat to the traitors was still faced with the realization that you would become worse if you cross him, but that’s all.
| Kategoria: | Classic Literature |
| Język: | Angielski |
| Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
|
| ISBN: | 978-83-8200-825-8 |
| Rozmiar pliku: | 2,7 MB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
Contents
INTRODUCTION
I. HOW I CAME TO MEET DR. NIKOLA
II. NIKOLA’S OFFER
III. NIKOLA’S SCHEME
IV. WE SET OUT FOR TIENTSIN
V. I RESCUE A YOUNG LADY
VI. ON THE ROAD TO PEKIN
VII. A SERIOUS TIME
VIII. HOW PRENDERGAST SUCCEEDED
IX. THE LLAMASERAI
X. AN EXCITING NIGHT IN THE LLAMASERAI
XI. EN ROUTE TO THIBET
XII. THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS
XIII. THE MONASTERY
XIV. AN ORDEAL
XV. HOW NIKOLA WAS INSTALLED
XVI. A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE
XVII. CONCLUSIONI. HOW I CAME TO MEET DR. NIKOLA
IT was Saturday afternoon, about a quarter-past four o’clock if my memory serves me, and the road, known as the Maloo, leading to the Bubbling Well, that single breathing place of Shanghai, was crowded. Fashionable barouches, C-spring buggies, spider-wheel dogcarts, to say nothing of every species of “rickshaw, bicycle, and pony, were following each other in one long procession towards the Well. All the European portion of Shanghai, and a considerable percentage of the native, had turned out to witness the finish of the paper hunt, which, though, not exciting in itself, was important as being the only amusement the settlement boasted that afternoon. I had walked as far as the Horse Bazaar myself, and had taken a “rickshaw thence, more from pride than because I could afford it. To tell the truth, which will pop out sooner or later, however much I may try to prevent it, I was keeping up appearances, and though I lay back in my vehicle and smoked my cheroot with a princely air, I was painfully conscious of the fact that when the ride should be paid for the exchequer would scarcely survive the shock.
Since my arrival in Shanghai I had been more than usually unfortunate. I had tried for every billet then vacant, from those choice pickings at the top of the tree among the high gods, to the secretaryship of a Eurasian hub of communistical tendencies located somewhere on the confines of the native city, but always without success. For the one I had not the necessary influence, for the other I lacked that peculiar gift of obsequiousness which is so essential to prosperity in that particular line of business.
In the meantime my expenditure was going remorselessly on, and I very soon saw that unless something happened, and that quickly too, I had every prospect of hiding myself deprived of my belongings, sleeping on the Bund, and finally figuring in that Mixed Court in the Magistrate’s Yamen, which is so justly dreaded by every Englishman, as the debtor of a Cochin China Jew. The position was not a cheerful one, look at it in whatever light I would, but I had experienced it a good many times before, and had always come out of it, if not with an increased amount of self-respect, certainly without any very great degree of personal embarrassment.
Arriving at the Well, I paid off my coolie and took up a position near “the last jump,” which I noticed was a prepared fence and ditch of considerable awkwardness. I was only just in time, for a moment later the horses came at it with a rush; some cleared it, some refused it, while others, adopting a middle course, jumped on the top of it, blundered over, and finally sent their riders spinning over their heads into the mud at the feet of their fairest friends. It was not exactly an aesthetic picture, but it was certainly a very amusing one.
When the last horse, had landed, imagining the sport to be over for the day, I was in the act of moving away when there was a shout to stand clear, and wheeling round again, I was just in time to see a last horseman come dashing at the fence. Though he rode with considerable determination, and was evidently bent on putting a good finish to his day’s amusement, it was plain that his horse was not of the same way of thinking, for, when he was distant about half a dozen yards from the fence, he broke his stride, stuck his feet into the mud, and endeavoured to come to a standstill. The result was not at all what he expected; he slid towards the fence, received his rider’s quirt, viciously administered, round his flank, made up his mind to jump too late, hit the top rail with his forehead, turned a complete somersault, and landed with a crash at my feet. His rider fell into the arms of the ditch, out of which I presently dragged him. When I got him on the bank he did not look a pretty sight, but, on the other hand, that did not prevent him from recognizing me.
“Wilfred Bruce, by all that’s glorious!” he cried, at the same time rising to his feet and mopping his streaming face with a very muddy pocket-handkerchief. “This is a fortunate encounter, for do you know, I spent two hours this morning looking for you?”
“I am very sorry you should have had so much trouble,” I answered; “but are you sure you are not hurt?”
“Not in the least,” he answered, and when he had scraped off as much mud as possible, turned to his horse, which had struggled to his feet and was gazing stupidly about him.
“Let me first send this clumsy brute home,” he said, “then I’ll find my cart, and if you’ll permit me I’ll take you back to town with me.”
We saw the horse led away, and, when we had discovered his dog-cart among the crowd of vehicles waiting for their owners, mounted to our seats and set off–after a few preliminary antics on the part of the leader–on our return to the settlement.
Once comfortably on our way George Barkston, whom, I might mention here, I had known for more than ten years, placed his whip in the bucket and turned to me.
“Look here, Bruce,” he said, flushing a little in anticipation of what he was about to say, “I’m not going to mince matters with you, so let us come straight to the point; we are old friends, and though we’ve not seen as much of each other during this visit to Shanghai as we used to do in the old days when you were deputy-commissioner of whatever it was, and I was your graceless subordinate, I think I am pretty well conversant with your present condition. I don’t want you to consider me impertinent, but I do want you to let me help you if I can.”
“That’s very good of you,” I answered, not without a little tremor, however, as he shaved a well-built American buggy by a hair’s breadth. “To tell the honest truth, I want to get something to do pretty badly. There’s a serious deficit in the exchequer, my boy. And though I’m a fairly old hand at the game of poverty, I’ve still a sort of pride left, and I have no desire to figure in the Mixed Court next Wednesday on a charge of inability to pay my landlord twenty dollars for board and lodging.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Barkston warmly; “and so, if you’ll let me help you, I’ve an idea that I can put you on to the right track to something. The fact is, there was a chap in the smoking-room at the club the other night with whom I got into conversation. He interested me more than I can tell you, for he was one of the most curious beings who, I should imagine, has ever visited the East. I never saw such an odd-looking fellow in my life. Talk about eyes–well, his were–augh! Why, he looked you through and through. You know old Benwell, of the revenue-cutter Y-chang? Well, while I was talking to this fellow, after a game of pool, in he came.
“"Hallo! Barkston,’ he said, as he brought up alongside the table, “I thought you were shooting with Jimmy Woodrough up the river? I’m glad to find you’re not, for I–’ He had got as far as this before he became aware of my companion. Then his jaw dropped; he looked hard at him, said something under his breath, and, shaking me by the hand, made a feeble excuse, and fled the room. Not being able to make it out at all, I went after him and found him looking for his hat in the hall. “Come, I say, Benwell, “I cried;’ what’s up? What on earth made you bolt like that? Have I offended you?’ He led me on one side, so that the servants should not hear, and having done so said confidentially: “Barkston, I am not a coward; in my time I’ve tackled Europeans, Zulus, Somalis, Malays, Japanese, and Chinese, to say nothing of Manilla and Solomon boys, and what’s more, I don’t mind facing them all again; but when I find myself face to face with Dr. Nikola, well, I tell you I don’t think twice, I bolt! Take my tip and do the same.’ As he might just as well have talked to me in low Dutch for all I should have understood, I tried to question him, but I might have spared myself the trouble, for I could get nothing satisfactory out of him. He simply shook me by the hand, told the boy in the hall to call him a “rickshaw, and as soon as it drew up at the steps jumped into it and departed. When I got back to the billiard-room Nikola was still there, practising losing hazards of extraordinary difficulty.
“"I’ve an opinion I’ve seen your friend before,’ he said, as I sat down to watch him. “He is Benwell of the Y-chang, and if I mistake not Benwell of the Y-chang remembers me.’
“"He seems to know you,’ I said with a laugh.
“"Yes, Nikola continued after a little pause; “I have had the pleasure of being in Mr. Benwell’s company once before. It was in Haiphong.’ Then with peculiar emphasis: “I don’t know what he thinks of the place, of course, but somehow I have an idea your friend will not willingly go near Haiphong again.’ After he had said this he remained silent for a little while, then he took a letter from his pocket, read it carefully, examined the envelope, and having made up his mind on a certain point turned to me again.
“"I want to ask you a question,’ he said, putting the cue he had been using back into the rack. “You know a person named Bruce, don’t you? a man who used to be in the Civil Service, and who has the reputation of being able to disguise himself so like a Chinaman that even Li Chang Tung would not know him for a European?’
“"I do,’ I answered; “he is an old friend of mine; and what is more, he is in Shanghai at the present moment. It was only this morning I heard of him.’
“"Bring him to me,” said Nikola quickly. “I am told he wants a billet, and if he sees me before twelve to-morrow night I think I can put him in the way of obtaining a good one. Now there you are, Bruce, my boy. I have done my best for you.”
“And I am sincerely grateful to you,” I answered. “But who is this man Nikola, and what sort of a billet do you think he can find me?”
“Who he is I can no more tell you than I can fly. But if he is not the first cousin of the Old Gentleman himself, well, all I can say is, I’m no hand at finding relationships.”
“I am afraid that doesn’t tell me very much,” I answered. “What’s he like to look at?”
“Well, in appearance he might be described as tall, though you must not run away with the idea that he’s what you would call a big man. On the contrary, he is most slenderly built. Anything like the symmetry of his figure, however, I don’t remember to have met with before. His face is clean shaven, and is always deadly pale, a sort of toad-skin pallor, that strikes you directly when you see him and the remembrance of which never leaves you again. His eyes and hair are as black as night, and he is as neat and natty as a new pin. When he is watching you he seems to be looking through the back of your head into the wall behind, and when he speaks you’ve just got to pay attention, whether you want to or not. All things considered, the less I see of him the better I shall like him.”
“You don’t give me a very encouraging report of my new employer. What on earth can he want with me?”
“He’s Apollyon himself,” laughed Barkston, “and wants a maitre d’hotel. I suppose he imagines you’ll suit.”
By this time we had left the Maloo and were entering the town.
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
INTRODUCTION
I. HOW I CAME TO MEET DR. NIKOLA
II. NIKOLA’S OFFER
III. NIKOLA’S SCHEME
IV. WE SET OUT FOR TIENTSIN
V. I RESCUE A YOUNG LADY
VI. ON THE ROAD TO PEKIN
VII. A SERIOUS TIME
VIII. HOW PRENDERGAST SUCCEEDED
IX. THE LLAMASERAI
X. AN EXCITING NIGHT IN THE LLAMASERAI
XI. EN ROUTE TO THIBET
XII. THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS
XIII. THE MONASTERY
XIV. AN ORDEAL
XV. HOW NIKOLA WAS INSTALLED
XVI. A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE
XVII. CONCLUSIONI. HOW I CAME TO MEET DR. NIKOLA
IT was Saturday afternoon, about a quarter-past four o’clock if my memory serves me, and the road, known as the Maloo, leading to the Bubbling Well, that single breathing place of Shanghai, was crowded. Fashionable barouches, C-spring buggies, spider-wheel dogcarts, to say nothing of every species of “rickshaw, bicycle, and pony, were following each other in one long procession towards the Well. All the European portion of Shanghai, and a considerable percentage of the native, had turned out to witness the finish of the paper hunt, which, though, not exciting in itself, was important as being the only amusement the settlement boasted that afternoon. I had walked as far as the Horse Bazaar myself, and had taken a “rickshaw thence, more from pride than because I could afford it. To tell the truth, which will pop out sooner or later, however much I may try to prevent it, I was keeping up appearances, and though I lay back in my vehicle and smoked my cheroot with a princely air, I was painfully conscious of the fact that when the ride should be paid for the exchequer would scarcely survive the shock.
Since my arrival in Shanghai I had been more than usually unfortunate. I had tried for every billet then vacant, from those choice pickings at the top of the tree among the high gods, to the secretaryship of a Eurasian hub of communistical tendencies located somewhere on the confines of the native city, but always without success. For the one I had not the necessary influence, for the other I lacked that peculiar gift of obsequiousness which is so essential to prosperity in that particular line of business.
In the meantime my expenditure was going remorselessly on, and I very soon saw that unless something happened, and that quickly too, I had every prospect of hiding myself deprived of my belongings, sleeping on the Bund, and finally figuring in that Mixed Court in the Magistrate’s Yamen, which is so justly dreaded by every Englishman, as the debtor of a Cochin China Jew. The position was not a cheerful one, look at it in whatever light I would, but I had experienced it a good many times before, and had always come out of it, if not with an increased amount of self-respect, certainly without any very great degree of personal embarrassment.
Arriving at the Well, I paid off my coolie and took up a position near “the last jump,” which I noticed was a prepared fence and ditch of considerable awkwardness. I was only just in time, for a moment later the horses came at it with a rush; some cleared it, some refused it, while others, adopting a middle course, jumped on the top of it, blundered over, and finally sent their riders spinning over their heads into the mud at the feet of their fairest friends. It was not exactly an aesthetic picture, but it was certainly a very amusing one.
When the last horse, had landed, imagining the sport to be over for the day, I was in the act of moving away when there was a shout to stand clear, and wheeling round again, I was just in time to see a last horseman come dashing at the fence. Though he rode with considerable determination, and was evidently bent on putting a good finish to his day’s amusement, it was plain that his horse was not of the same way of thinking, for, when he was distant about half a dozen yards from the fence, he broke his stride, stuck his feet into the mud, and endeavoured to come to a standstill. The result was not at all what he expected; he slid towards the fence, received his rider’s quirt, viciously administered, round his flank, made up his mind to jump too late, hit the top rail with his forehead, turned a complete somersault, and landed with a crash at my feet. His rider fell into the arms of the ditch, out of which I presently dragged him. When I got him on the bank he did not look a pretty sight, but, on the other hand, that did not prevent him from recognizing me.
“Wilfred Bruce, by all that’s glorious!” he cried, at the same time rising to his feet and mopping his streaming face with a very muddy pocket-handkerchief. “This is a fortunate encounter, for do you know, I spent two hours this morning looking for you?”
“I am very sorry you should have had so much trouble,” I answered; “but are you sure you are not hurt?”
“Not in the least,” he answered, and when he had scraped off as much mud as possible, turned to his horse, which had struggled to his feet and was gazing stupidly about him.
“Let me first send this clumsy brute home,” he said, “then I’ll find my cart, and if you’ll permit me I’ll take you back to town with me.”
We saw the horse led away, and, when we had discovered his dog-cart among the crowd of vehicles waiting for their owners, mounted to our seats and set off–after a few preliminary antics on the part of the leader–on our return to the settlement.
Once comfortably on our way George Barkston, whom, I might mention here, I had known for more than ten years, placed his whip in the bucket and turned to me.
“Look here, Bruce,” he said, flushing a little in anticipation of what he was about to say, “I’m not going to mince matters with you, so let us come straight to the point; we are old friends, and though we’ve not seen as much of each other during this visit to Shanghai as we used to do in the old days when you were deputy-commissioner of whatever it was, and I was your graceless subordinate, I think I am pretty well conversant with your present condition. I don’t want you to consider me impertinent, but I do want you to let me help you if I can.”
“That’s very good of you,” I answered, not without a little tremor, however, as he shaved a well-built American buggy by a hair’s breadth. “To tell the honest truth, I want to get something to do pretty badly. There’s a serious deficit in the exchequer, my boy. And though I’m a fairly old hand at the game of poverty, I’ve still a sort of pride left, and I have no desire to figure in the Mixed Court next Wednesday on a charge of inability to pay my landlord twenty dollars for board and lodging.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Barkston warmly; “and so, if you’ll let me help you, I’ve an idea that I can put you on to the right track to something. The fact is, there was a chap in the smoking-room at the club the other night with whom I got into conversation. He interested me more than I can tell you, for he was one of the most curious beings who, I should imagine, has ever visited the East. I never saw such an odd-looking fellow in my life. Talk about eyes–well, his were–augh! Why, he looked you through and through. You know old Benwell, of the revenue-cutter Y-chang? Well, while I was talking to this fellow, after a game of pool, in he came.
“"Hallo! Barkston,’ he said, as he brought up alongside the table, “I thought you were shooting with Jimmy Woodrough up the river? I’m glad to find you’re not, for I–’ He had got as far as this before he became aware of my companion. Then his jaw dropped; he looked hard at him, said something under his breath, and, shaking me by the hand, made a feeble excuse, and fled the room. Not being able to make it out at all, I went after him and found him looking for his hat in the hall. “Come, I say, Benwell, “I cried;’ what’s up? What on earth made you bolt like that? Have I offended you?’ He led me on one side, so that the servants should not hear, and having done so said confidentially: “Barkston, I am not a coward; in my time I’ve tackled Europeans, Zulus, Somalis, Malays, Japanese, and Chinese, to say nothing of Manilla and Solomon boys, and what’s more, I don’t mind facing them all again; but when I find myself face to face with Dr. Nikola, well, I tell you I don’t think twice, I bolt! Take my tip and do the same.’ As he might just as well have talked to me in low Dutch for all I should have understood, I tried to question him, but I might have spared myself the trouble, for I could get nothing satisfactory out of him. He simply shook me by the hand, told the boy in the hall to call him a “rickshaw, and as soon as it drew up at the steps jumped into it and departed. When I got back to the billiard-room Nikola was still there, practising losing hazards of extraordinary difficulty.
“"I’ve an opinion I’ve seen your friend before,’ he said, as I sat down to watch him. “He is Benwell of the Y-chang, and if I mistake not Benwell of the Y-chang remembers me.’
“"He seems to know you,’ I said with a laugh.
“"Yes, Nikola continued after a little pause; “I have had the pleasure of being in Mr. Benwell’s company once before. It was in Haiphong.’ Then with peculiar emphasis: “I don’t know what he thinks of the place, of course, but somehow I have an idea your friend will not willingly go near Haiphong again.’ After he had said this he remained silent for a little while, then he took a letter from his pocket, read it carefully, examined the envelope, and having made up his mind on a certain point turned to me again.
“"I want to ask you a question,’ he said, putting the cue he had been using back into the rack. “You know a person named Bruce, don’t you? a man who used to be in the Civil Service, and who has the reputation of being able to disguise himself so like a Chinaman that even Li Chang Tung would not know him for a European?’
“"I do,’ I answered; “he is an old friend of mine; and what is more, he is in Shanghai at the present moment. It was only this morning I heard of him.’
“"Bring him to me,” said Nikola quickly. “I am told he wants a billet, and if he sees me before twelve to-morrow night I think I can put him in the way of obtaining a good one. Now there you are, Bruce, my boy. I have done my best for you.”
“And I am sincerely grateful to you,” I answered. “But who is this man Nikola, and what sort of a billet do you think he can find me?”
“Who he is I can no more tell you than I can fly. But if he is not the first cousin of the Old Gentleman himself, well, all I can say is, I’m no hand at finding relationships.”
“I am afraid that doesn’t tell me very much,” I answered. “What’s he like to look at?”
“Well, in appearance he might be described as tall, though you must not run away with the idea that he’s what you would call a big man. On the contrary, he is most slenderly built. Anything like the symmetry of his figure, however, I don’t remember to have met with before. His face is clean shaven, and is always deadly pale, a sort of toad-skin pallor, that strikes you directly when you see him and the remembrance of which never leaves you again. His eyes and hair are as black as night, and he is as neat and natty as a new pin. When he is watching you he seems to be looking through the back of your head into the wall behind, and when he speaks you’ve just got to pay attention, whether you want to or not. All things considered, the less I see of him the better I shall like him.”
“You don’t give me a very encouraging report of my new employer. What on earth can he want with me?”
“He’s Apollyon himself,” laughed Barkston, “and wants a maitre d’hotel. I suppose he imagines you’ll suit.”
By this time we had left the Maloo and were entering the town.
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
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