Mr Fix,” replied the Consul. “She was signalled yesterday off Port Said, and the one hundred and sixty kilometres of the canal are of no moment for such a vessel. I repeat to you that the Mongolia has always obtained the reward of twenty-five pounds given by the Government for every gain of twenty-four hours over the regulation time.”
“This steamer comes directly from Brindisi?” asked Fix.
“Directly from Brindisi, where it took on the India mail; from Brindisi, which it left on Saturday, at five o’clock p.m. So have patience; it cannot be behind-hand in arriving. But really I do not see how, with the description you have received, you could recognise your man, if he is on board the Mongolia.”
“Consul,” replied Fix, “we feel these people rather than know them. You must have a scent for them, and the scent is like a special sense, in which are united hearing, sight, and smell. I have in my life arrested more than one of these gentlemen, and, provided that my robber is on board, I will venture that he will not slip from my hands.”
“I hope so, Mr Fix, for it is a very heavy robbery.”
“A magnificent robbery,” replied the enthusiastic detective. “Fifty-five thousand pounds! We don’t often have such windfalls! The robbers are becoming mean fellows. The race of Jack Sheppard is dying out! They are hung now for a few shillings!”
“Mr Fix,” replied the Consul, “you speak in such a way that I earnestly wish you to succeed; but I repeat to you that, from the circumstances in which you find yourself, I fear that it will be difficult. Do you not know that, according to the description you have received, this robber resembles an honest man exactly?”
“Consul,” replied the detective dogmatically, “great robbers always resemble honest people. You understand that those who have rogues’ faces have but one course to take to remain honest, otherwise they would be arrested. Honest physiognomies are the very ones that must be unmasked. It is a difficult task, I admit; and it is not a trade so much as an art.”
It is seen that the aforesaid Fix was not wanting in a certain amount of self-conceit.
In the meantime the wharf was becoming lively little by little. Sailors of various nationalities, merchants, ship-brokers, porters, and fellahs, were coming together in large numbers. The arrival of the steamer was evidently near. The weather was quite fine, but the atmosphere was cold from the east wind. A few minarets towered above the town in the pale rays of the sun. Towards the south, a jetty of about two thousand yards long extended like an arm into the Suez roadstead. Several fishing and coasting vessels were tossing upon the surface of the Red Sea, some of which preserved in their style the elegant shape of the ancient galley.
Moving among this crowd, Fix, from the habit of his profession, was carefully examining the passers-by with a rapid glance.
It was then half-past ten.
“But this steamer will never arrive!” he exclaimed on hearing the port clock strike.
“She cannot be far off,” replied the Consul.
“How long will she stop at Suez?” asked Fix.
“Four hours. Time enough to take in coal. From Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea, is reckoned thirteen hundred and ten miles, and it is necessary to lay in fuel.”
“And from Suez this vessel goes directly to Bombay?”
“Directly, without breaking bulk.”
“Well, then,” said Fix, “if the robber has taken this route and this vessel, it must be in his plan to disembark at Suez, in order to reach by another route the Dutch or French possessions of Asia. He must know very well that he would not be safe in India, which is an English country.”
“Unless he is a very shrewd man,” replied the Consul.
“You know that an English criminal is always better concealed in London than he would be abroad.”
After this idea, which gave the detective much food for reflection, the Consul returned to his office, situated at a short distance. The detective remained alone, affected by a certain nervous impatience, having the rather singular presentiment that his robber was to be found aboard the Mongolia—and truly, if this rascal had left England with the intention of reaching the New World, the East India route, being watched less, or more difficult to watch than that of the Atlantic, ought to have had his preference.
Fix was not long left to his reflections. Sharp whistles announced the arrival of the steamer. The entire horde of porters and fellahs rushed towards the wharf in a bustle, somewhat inconveniencing the limbs and the clothing of the passengers. A dozen boats put off from the shore to meet the Mongolia. Soon was seen the enormous hull of the Mongolia passing between the shores of the canal, and eleven o’clock was striking when the steamer came to anchor in the roadstead, while the escaping of the steam made a great noise. There was quite a number of passengers aboard. Some remained on the spar-deck, contemplating the picturesque panorama of the town; but the most of them came ashore in the boats which had gone to hail the Mongolia.
Fix was examining carefully all those that landed, when one of them approached him, after having vigorously pushed back the fellahs who overwhelmed him with their offers of service, and asked him very politely if he could show him the office of the English consular agent. And at the same time this passenger presented a passport upon which he doubtless desired to have the British visé. Fix instinctively took the passport, and at a glance read the description in it. An involuntary movement almost escaped him. The sheet trembled in his hand. The description contained in the passport was identical with that which he had received from the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police.
“This passport is not yours?” he said to the passenger.
“No,” replied the latter, “it is my master’s passport.”
“And your master?”
“Remained on board.”
“But,” continued the detective, “he must present himself in person at the Consul office to establish his identity.”
“What, is that necessary?”
“Indispensable.”
“And where is the office?”
“There at the corner of the square,” replied the detective, pointing out a house two hundred paces off.
“Then I must go for my master, who will not be pleased to have his plans deranged!”
Thereupon the passenger bowed to Fix and returned aboard the steamer.
Which shows once more the uselessness of Passports in Police Matters
The detective left the wharf and turned quickly towards the Consul’s office. Immediately upon his pressing demand he was ushered into the presence of that official.
“Consul,” he said, without any other preamble, “I have strong reasons for believing that our man has taken passage aboard the Mongolia, and Fix related
