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Page 43
"I know of no other," replied the doctor. "After years of searching I
only found out that this O'Donoghan was in possession of the secret,
that he alone could reveal it to me, and that is why I have advertised
for him in the papers. I must confess that I had no great hopes of
finding him by this means."
"How is that?"
"Because I had reasons for believing that this O'Donoghan has grave
motives for remaining unknown, consequently it was not likely that he
would respond to my advertisement. I had the intention of resorting to
other means. I have a description of him. I know what ports he would be
likely to frequent, and I propose to employ special agents to be on the
lookout for him."
Dr. Schwaryencrona did not say this lightly. He spoke with the intention
of seeing what effect these words would produce on the man before him.
And as he watched him intently, he saw that in spite of the affected
coolness of the stranger his eyelids fell and the muscles of his month
contracted. But almost immediately Tudor Brown recovered his
self-possession, and said:
"Well, doctor, if you have no other means of solving this mystery,
except by discovering Patrick O'Donoghan, I am afraid that you will
never find it out. Patrick O'Donoghan is dead."
The doctor was too much taken aback by this disappointing announcement
to say a word, and only looked at his visitor, who continued:
"Dead and buried, three hundred fathoms beneath the sea. This man, whose
past life always appeared to me to have been mysterious, was employed
three years on board my yacht, the 'Albatross.' I must tell you that my
yacht is a stanch vessel, in which I often cruise for seven or eight
months at a time. Nearly three years ago we were passing through the
Straits of Madeira, when Patrick O'Donoghan fell overboard. I had the
vessel stopped, and some boats lowered, and after a diligent search we
recovered him; but though we spared no pains to restore him to life, our
efforts were in vain. Patrick O'Donoghan was dead. We were compelled to
return to the sea the prey which we had snatched from it. The accident
was put down on the ship's log, and recorded in the notary's office at
the nearest place we reached. Thinking that this act might be useful to
you, I have brought you a certified copy of it."
As he said this, Mr. Tudor Brown took out his pocket-book and presented
the doctor with a paper stamped with a notarial seal.
The latter read it quickly. It was a record of the death of Patrick
O'Donoghan, while passing through the Straits of Madeira, duly signed
and sworn to, before two witnesses, as being an exact copy of the
original--it was also registered in London, at Somerset House, by the
commissioners of her Britannic Majesty.
This instrument was evidently authentic. But the manner in which he had
received it was so strange that the doctor could not conceal his
astonishment. He took it, however, with his habitual courtesy.
"Permit me to ask one question, sir," he said to his visitor.
"Speak, doctor."
"How is it that you have this document in your pocket duly prepared and
certified? And why have you brought it to me?"
"If I can count, you have asked two questions," said Tudor Brown. "I will
answer them, however--I had this paper in my pocket, because I read your
advertisement two months ago, and wishing to furnish you with the
information which you asked for, I thought it better to give it to you,
in the most complete and definite form that lay in my power. I have
brought it to you personally, because I happened to be cruising in these
waters; and I wished at the same time to gratify your curiosity and my
own."
There was nothing to answer to this reasoning--this was the only
conclusion the doctor could draw.
"Yon are here, then, with the 'Albatross'?" he asked, eagerly.
"Without doubt."
"And you have still on board some sailors who have known Patrick
O'Donoghan?"
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