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Copyright © 2023 by Royale Media Group Ltd

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by copyright law.
Published by Royale Media Group Ltd

www.EdenRoyale.com
 Contents

Before you begin...

Series Recap
Prologue
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
Epilogue
Author's Letter
Acknowledgments
Also by Eden Royale
About the author
Fullpage Image
 Before you begin...

A word of warning before you begin – be prepared for this book to add a sprinkle of magic to your day! Side-effects may
include…
Daydreams of being whisked away by a demigod Olympian
Checking to see if you have secret magical powers
Feeling more uplifted than using a pogo-stick on a trampoline
So if you like the sound of feel-good magical romance, action-packed adventure, happily ever afters, and that fuzzy feeling
you get from watching a Hallmark movie, then read on!
If, however, you prefer your books to be dark and super spicy, then this might not be the series for you!

Now settle in, hold on tight, and get ready to meet the Sons of Olympus!
I hope you enjoy them as much as I have,
Eden x
-
P.S. For those who are already planning their next read, you can download your FREE Sons of Olympus book, and continue the
magic at:
www.edenroyale.com
 Series Recap

To save Olympus, a fraternity of Greek demigods face their biggest challenge – finding their fated mates in the mortal
world.

As the flames of Olympus fade, Zephyr, the Greek God of the West Wind, has been tasked with helping the Sons of Olympus
meet their fated mates. Only then will Olympus burn bright once more...
-
After risking life and limb to unite five Sons of Olympus with their true loves, Zephyr is one step closer to completing his
mission and gaining his hero’s license (and with it, his golden ticket to finally impressing the Muses). Now he searches for the
next Son of Olympus – the descendant of Hermes, God of Thieves, and all-round mischief-maker. Which means it’s time to set
the perfect trap…
-
Haven’t read Book 1? You can read Storm Chaser for free on Kindle Unlimited here.
 Prologue

THE RESIDENT DOCTOR OF Asclepius’ Clinic for Magical Maladies was no stranger to seeing his share of mythological
mishaps. There was the time Circe turned an entire ship of sailors into squealing pigs after another of her spells backfired. And
the time that Zeus had arrived with a splitting headache, only for Athena to pop out of his head. Not to mention the number of
hungover Olympians who’d staggered into his office after one too many at Dionysus’ vineyards. But the long-suffering doctor
would gladly take any of those cases, compared to the medical mystery that currently sat before him.
“It’s not good, is it Doc?” Zephyr peeked at the strange readings on the scroll of parchment, before he wrung his hands with
worry. “I warned Hera that I wasn’t cut out for this hero’s business. But would she listen?”
“Now, now, Zephyr.” The doctor studied the parchment, before he plucked a thermometer from the God of Wind’s mouth. “I
don’t think you need to worry…”
“Oh, I’ve already researched all of my symptoms with the Fates. They seemed to think I might have a case of Minotauritis.”
Zephyr shuddered at the mere thought. “A rare and deadly disease that’s accompanied by an unusual growth of body hair…”
“There’s a reason I always tell my patients not to research their own symptoms. The Fates have an uncanny ability to turn a
simple headache into a mythological melodrama…”
“A headache, you say? Don’t tell me it’s a Medusa Migraine.” Zephyr gulped fearfully. “Why, the only cure for that is to
remove the affected area. And I am rather fond of having a head, you see…”
“That won’t be necessary…”
“I knew I should never have left the safety of Olympus. But Hera just had to fill my head with ideas of becoming a hero…”
Zephyr wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, before he met the doctor’s gaze. “Just give it to me straight, Doc. How long do I
have left?”
“You’re an immortal, Zephyr. What part of eternal life do you not understand?“ The doctor tapped a small hammer against
Zephyr’s knee, ignoring the startled yelp from the god. “No, no, no. You don’t have Minotauritis, and you don’t have a Medusa
Migraine. What you have is a case of indigestion.”
Zephyr blinked in surprise. “Indigestion?”
“No doubt it was caused by eating one too many of those meat buns you’ve been devouring in the mortal world. And it’s not
good for your cholesterol either.” The doctor tutted and glanced at Zephyr’s stomach pointedly. “No, I’m afraid you’ve no
choice but to cut them out completely.”
Zephyr’s eyes widened in horror. “Surely this is some kind of mistake. Perhaps you could run some more tests?”
“That won’t be necessary.” But the doctor paused as he studied the scroll of parchment. “Hmm, this is interesting. It says
here you’ve recently been suffering from heart palpitations?”
“Well, it’s more like a fluttering, of sorts…”
“And you mentioned you’ve had a churning stomach?”
“Oh yes. It’s like I’m lost at sea in one of Poseidon’s wildest storms. Or as if I’ve swallowed a bunch of butterflies.”
“And you’ve been having trouble sleeping?”
“Every night, I toss and turn like a restless breeze.”
“Hmmm, how very interesting.” The doctor frowned in concentration, before he looked up from his parchment. “And is there
a common cause of these strange sensations?”
“A cause?” Zephyr scratched his head in thought. “Well, er…”
“Zephyr? What’s taking you so long, wind-man?”
Zephyr yelped in surprise as Iris’ voice echoed through the skies of Olympus. At once, every machine in the doctor’s surgery
whirred to life, before they scribbled their readings onto scrolls of parchment. The doctor studied the results keenly, before he
chewed on the end of his pen thoughtfully.
“How very curious, indeed.”
“How bad is it, Doc?” Zephyr gulped as the machines emitted a series of shrill beeps, while his mind filled with images of
various obscure and horrifying diseases. “Is it a case of Cyclops’ Conjunctivitis? Poseidon’s Sea Sickness? Or even Hermes’
Fleet-Footed Fungus?”
“Oh, I have my theories, but we’ll have to wait for the test results before we jump to any conclusions. In the meantime, try to
take it easy, and I’ll write you a prescription to treat your indigestion.” The doctor scribbled onto the parchment, before he bid
Zephyr farewell. “Besides, Hera will have my head if I keep you here any longer. The word around Olympus is that you’re
becoming her latest hero…”
“Is that so?” Zephyr drew an excited breath, before he glanced at the Heroes Bar in the distance. “Say, I don’t suppose the
tales of my heroic exploits have reached the Muses?”
“Zephyr!”
Zephyr yelped as Iris’ voice rang through the skies once more, sending his heart racing in his chest. With a fretful groan, he
sped from the doctor’s clinic as fast as his winds could carry him, towards the steps of Olympus, where the Goddess of
Rainbows fixed him with her usual scowl.
“What took you so long, wind-man?” Iris crossed her arms, while her rainbows arced playfully through the sky. “I trust
there’s a good reason you kept me waiting?”
“How about being the newfound medical mystery of Olympus?”
“What do you mean?”
As Iris’ eyes narrowed in confusion, Zephyr drew a breath, and sighed theatrically.
“Well, I suppose it’s best you know sooner rather than later.” Zephyr met Iris with a grave gaze. “There’s something wrong
with me, Iris. The doctor is putting a brave face on things, but I can’t help but think this mission could be my last.”
“What?”
Iris drew a startled breath. At once, the goddess’ beautiful rainbows faded into storm clouds, until the skies darkened and
rain poured from the heavens above. Her hair turned to a mournful shade of blue, while tears welled in her eyes.
“I don’t believe it!” Iris drew a sobbing breath, much to Zephyr’s surprise. “How long do you have left?”
“Delivery from Asclepius’ Clinic for Magical Maladies!”
Zephyr turned to see a herald speed through the air towards them, a scroll of parchment clutched in their hand.
“You forgot your prescription, Mr. Zephyr.” The herald passed Zephyr the scroll, before fixing him with a stern gaze. “And
don’t forget to stay away from those meat buns if you want your indigestion to clear.”
“Meat buns?“ As the herald sped away, Iris’ fear turned to a deep fury. “I thought you were dying! And all that’s wrong with
you is a case of indigestion?”
”A bad case of indigestion.“ Zephyr yelped as sparks flew from Iris’s hands. “Okay, fine! It might be a good idea for me to
cut back on the hotdogs. But there’s more to my medical mystery than just indigestion. In fact, the doctor has insisted I rest up
while he looks into it. What if it kills me, Iris?”
“Well, it will have to get in line.” A deep growl of anger reverberated through the goddess, as her hands clenched into fists.
“For a moment there, I thought you were…”
Zephyr looked in surprise as his companion’s formidable scowl was broken by tears that bloomed into her eyes. Each one
shimmered with a kaleidoscopic hue, like a rainbow forming in the sky.
“Iris?”
“Just forget it!” Iris shook her head, before her glare returned. “And I’m afraid there won’t be any rest for you. While you’ve
been wasting time on your medical mystery, some of us have been doing the real work. If we’re going to save the world, we
have to help our next Son of Olympus find his true love. Which means we have no time to waste.”
“Say no more, I’ll summon the winds…”
“We don’t have time to drift on a gentle breeze, Zephyr. No, if our mission is to be a success, then speed is of the essence.
And luckily, I have the perfect thing in mind.” A devilish smile flickered across Iris’ lips. “Now hold on tight!”
“What do you mean?”
Zephyr yelped as Iris took his hand, and leaped from the steps of Olympus. His screams echoed through the heavens as they
plummeted through the clouds, towards the earth below.
“So much for my medical mystery killing me. I’ll fall to my doom!”
“No need to worry, wind-man. You’ve just got to learn to enjoy the ride.”
With a wave of Iris’ hand, a rainbow burst to life beneath the pair, leading to the earth below in a twisting helter-skelter
slide. Zephyr shrieked as he slipped across its surface, as if trapped on a daredevil rollercoaster ride with a mischief-making
pixie for company.
“What is this thing?”
“I call it the rainbow road. It’s the most twisty-turny, topsy-turvy, loop-the-looping fun you can hope to have this side of
Olympus.” Iris cackled gleefully as they raced along her makeshift slide. “And there’s no faster way to travel!”
“Well, I feel like I’m about to hurl.” Zephyr clutched his stomach as they swerved along a corner at breakneck speed. “Are
you sure this thing is safe?”
“I’m fairly certain.“ Iris’ smirk deepened as Zephyr let out a fearful shriek. “Now quit your screaming, Zephyr. We’re about
to reach the loop of terror!”
“The loop of what now?”
Zephyr yelped as the surface of the slide gave way to a giant loop that loomed before him. He gasped as he slid across it at
an eye-watering speed, and screamed in terror as the world lurched upside down at the daredevil feat. Before he could catch
his breath, he plummeted down the remaining track, towards a giant ramp before him.
“Iris, please tell me this isn’t where the rainbow road ends…”
“I’m afraid it’s still somewhat of a work in progress. Just hold on, wind-man!”
Zephyr shrieked as he and Iris were thrown from the slide, and soared through the open air. He let out a startled grunt as they
bounced along currents of wind, before they landed on a crash mat of fluffy clouds.
“That was the most dangerous, unsafe thing I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing in my entire life. It was reckless. It
was hare-brained. It was…”
“Brilliant!“ Iris beamed as she sprang to her feet in excitement. “With a few minor adjustments, every Olympian will be
desperate to ride the rainbow road themselves!”
Zephyr groaned as Iris’ gleeful laughter filled the skies. But as her eyes sparkled with mischief and mirth, he felt something
stir deep inside him. His heart fluttered with the same strange sensation as before, until a force rose up from inside him, and
broke free from his lips. His eyes widened in surprise as his own laughter joined hers, until the skies burned brightly with their
joy. For a moment, he forgot all about the stomach-churning ride, and focused on nothing but the kaleidoscopic sparkles in Iris’
eyes. And as he held her gaze, he realized for the first time that he’d never seen such a beautiful sight…
“Over there, look!”
The clouds parted, revealing a town nestled on the earth below. Zephyr reluctantly tore his gaze away from Iris, and peered
at the hodgepodge town beneath. The streets stood empty, while the shutters on every building were drawn. Zephyr let out a
long whistle as he took in the ghost town. This place made the Underworld look positively bursting with life.
“Huh, I didn’t expect to find the descendant of Hermes in a ghost-town like this. Usually, he only travels to where there’s
treasure to be found.” Zephyr scrunched his nose as he looked at the town below. “And I doubt the town junkyard will prove to
be much of a draw.”
“For once, Zephyr, you’re right. We’re here, because our Son of Olympus’ true love has made this ghost-town her home.
Which means we need to find a way to bring him here.” Iris turned to a worn building in the distance, where the only signs of
life could be found. “Let’s take a closer look.”
Together they drifted from the clouds and into the grand hallway of the building. Zephyr looked in surprise as he was greeted
by cabinets of strange oddities and trinkets.
“The Museum of Lost Treasures?” Zephyr sneezed on a plume of dust that coated the artifacts. “Perhaps if they cleared the
cobwebs from the displays, they wouldn’t be so lost.”
“This place has certainly seen better days.” But Iris’ eyes widened as they emerged in a Grecian-themed room, filled with
the crumbling columns of an ancient temple. “Hey, look! It’s just like home.”
“And they have a painting of me.” But Zephyr’s face fell as he examined the portrait. “Hey, I don’t have that much of a belly,
do I?”
“Look out, someone’s coming!”
The pair ducked behind a group of statues, as footsteps echoed along the marble floors. As the sound of an argument filled
the air, Iris peeked between the marble thighs of a muscular statue and grinned at the sight before her.
“That’s the mortal we’re after. Although she does not look happy.”
Zephyr jostled with Iris for a glimpse of the mortal, before he raised his eyebrows in surprise as he gazed at the backside of
a rather portly professor.
“That’s the Son of Olympus’ true love?“ Zephyr glanced at the professor’s plum-colored suit, and the monocle perched on
the end of his bulbous nose. “They’re not quite what I expected…”
“Not him, wind-man. Her.”
Zephyr followed Iris’ gaze to another figure, who argued with the purple-clad professor. She clutched a leaflet angrily in her
hand and pointed to a nearby display cabinet, while behind her spectacles, her eyes burned with a passionate fury that could
rival Hera’s. And yet, despite the woman’s beauty, Zephyr’s gaze returned to Iris, taking in new details he’d missed before.
The softness of her rainbow-colored hair as it gleamed in the light. The curve of her lips as they carried her mischievous smile.
The scent of her perfume, that reminded him of sunshine and fresh rain. His heart fluttered at the sight of each new detail, while
a strange sensation swept through him once more. It was almost as if…
“They’re gone! That was close, wind-man!”
 Zephyr blinked as he was pulled from his daydream. He shook his head to clear the strange sensation that had swept over
him, knowing that the sooner the doctor solved this medical mystery, the better. He followed Iris through the museum, before
she peered into the display case that had been the object of the mortal’s ire.
“Have you found something?”
“I’ll say. This diamond must be worth a fortune!” Iris edged closer to the display cabinet, and let out a whistle at the sight of
the gemstone within. “That crystal is more dazzling than my rainbows! What I’d give to own something like that…”
Zephyr followed Iris’ gaze to the diamond displayed within the cabinet. It shimmered with an array of breathtaking hues,
while each plane and edge seemed to burn with a radiant fire. But Zephyr picked up the crumpled leaflet the mortal had held,
before he raised an eyebrow.
“Well, if you want this diamond, you’ll have to act fast. It looks like it’s up for sale.” Zephyr studied the advertisement for
the grand auction, before his eyes widened. “Jeez, I don’t think even King Midas could afford this price tag. And he’s not
exactly short on gold…”
“Is that so?” Iris’ lips curled into a calculated smile. “Well, perhaps this is the very opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said yourself that we’d need something flashy to draw Hermes’ descendant to this ghost-town. Something worthy of the
God of Thieves and Tricker’s attention...” Iris’ gaze lingered on the diamond as it glittered in the light. “Well, what’s bigger
than the opportunity to steal a giant diamond on the night of its auction?”
“So, you want to set up our two love-birds by getting him to steal a priceless treasure of hers?” Zephyr scratched his head
uncertainly. “I might not know much about dating, but that seems like a bad idea…”
“I’ll admit there are some finer details to work out. But opposites attract, remember?”
Zephyr drew a breath to argue against Iris’ harebrained idea. But as her eyes sparkled in the light, he found himself lost for
words once more. Iris grinned, taking his silence as agreement,
“That’s the spirit!” She clapped him on the back and let out a merry cackle. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind conjuring a breeze
to send this to our Son of Olympus, we can sit back and enjoy the show.”
With a sigh of defeat, Zephyr summoned a current of wind, and sent the leaflet racing into the air.
“I just hope this works. Things with the God of Thieves and Tricksters are never straight-forward.”
“Oh, you worry too much, wind-man. You just need to let loose and have some fun.” Iris broke into a roguish smile as she
turned to her companion. “Luckily, I have just the perfect idea.”
“Oh no…” Zephyr groaned as he noted the twinkle in Iris’ eyes, knowing that impending chaos was imminent. “Not the
rainbow road!”
Before he could protest, Iris took him by the hand, until they sped out of the museum and into the sky, where her daredevil
slide awaited. He sped along the kaleidoscopic death-trap, his mind reeling as he tried to maintain focus on his mission. But as
his companion’s gleeful laughter filled the air, a strange sensation swept through his heart, until his mind became clouded once
more. And he knew that if his mystery disease didn’t kill him first, then Iris’ rainbow road certainly would.
 1

THE DIAMOND SPARKLED IN the spotlight. The air hung thick with tension as the world’s wealthiest collectors jostled with
one other for a better view of the priceless artifact. Such a treasure was a one of a kind, a unique relic plucked from the sands
of time. And by the end of the night, it would be sold to the highest bidder.
It was just a pity that it was about to be stolen from right under their noses.
Locke broke into a smile as an art collector took a glass of champagne from his tray, a gesture that most certainly wasn’t
returned. The rich and powerful never noticed those they considered beneath them. All they saw was a faceless waiter.
Someone who blended into the background. And that’s exactly why this was the perfect disguise.
He strolled through the museum, passing a group of mustachioed art collectors who eagerly studied the Ancient Greek relics
on display. Locke chuckled to himself, as they were too absorbed in the works of art to even glance his way. Those foolish
mortals were so busy studying ancient history that they didn’t even notice an Olympian walking among them. And, as usual, he
was about to cause trouble.
Locke gazed at the depictions of the Olympians, immortalized in the ancient relics. He studied the portrayal of Zeus wielding
his dramatic thunderstorms, of Poseidon stirring the seas into the mightiest of storms, of Hades fiercely guarding the souls of
the underworld. Well, they could keep their flashy superpowers and their macho displays of strength. His ancestor had seen the
value of blending into the background. Of sticking to the shadows and avoiding the spotlight. Because that was the best place to
strike.
With a mischievous grin, Locke dissolved into the darkness. His body slipped into the patches of shadow, invisible to the
mortal eye as he wove through the crowd like a breeze. With every step, treasures ripe for the picking tempted him with their
siren song. Diamond necklaces, Swiss watches, bulging wallets filled with platinum credit cards. But he was no petty thief,
and besides, he had his eye on a much bigger treasure. The reason he had come to this dusty museum, in a dull little town in the
middle of nowhere. The Dragonfire Diamond. And with it, he would be one step closer to securing his future…
Locke approached the diamond, lurking in the shadows to avoid any unwanted attention. As it sparkled with an inner magic,
he couldn’t help but edge closer, like a magpie drawn to its light. Such an object of beauty certainly didn’t belong in a dusty
museum, and nor did it belong in the hands of these wealthy art collectors. A roguish smile crept along Locke’s lips as he
admired the priceless treasure. It would be practically rude not to steal it. If anything, he was doing it a favor.
Locke studied his surroundings, before his gaze lingered on a vast painting of his ancestor hung on the wall above. He
grinned as his forefather soared on a path of golden light, his winged sandals taking him to an Aladdin’s cave of treasures.
Hermes, God of Thieves and Tricksters. And as Locke glanced at the playful twinkle in his ancestor’s eye, he knew there was
no better audience to witness such a heist. With a quick glance to check the coast was clear, he sent a silent prayer to Lady
Luck, and reached towards the diamond…
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Locke drew a breath in surprise as a woman watched him from the shadows. Not just any woman, a mortal. He looked
around in confusion, convinced that there must be a mistake. But her eyes remained firmly locked on him, watching him as he
lurked in the darkness. They were eyes that saw through his magic. Eyes that saw him.
Locke drew an uncertain breath, lost for words for the first time in his life. But despite his unease, the woman broke into an
easy smile, while her eyes gleamed with an inner light.
“Trust me when I say some treasures are best left alone. Particularly that one. Rumor has it that it was once fiercely guarded
by a dragon, and any who dared to plunder it would be burned to a crisp.” The woman smiled as she adjusted her spectacles.
“Perhaps it’s best not to put it to the test.”
For a moment, Locke barely dared to breathe. He glanced at his cloak of shadows in confusion. He should be invisible. Free
to slip through the darkness, undetected by the eyes of mortals. And yet, this woman continued to watch him as if he were
standing in broad daylight.
“You can see me?” Locke drew an uneasy breath, before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “No one usually sees me.”
“I know the feeling.” The woman sighed, and gazed at the crowd gathered in the museum. “No one sees me here either. They
never have.”
Locke studied the woman’s threadbare jumper and worn jeans, a stark contrast to the finery displayed by the revelers in the
museum. He returned the stranger’s smile, and yet his unease remained. This woman might not be here to scupper his plan. But
she was still a surprise. And in Locke’s line of work, he hated surprises.
“You’re more perceptive than most people.”
“It comes with the job.” The woman handed him a business card with a grin. “Thea Rosewood, from the Lost and Found
Treasure Detectives. There’s no treasure I can’t find, and no mystery I can’t solve.”
Locke cursed as he looked at the business card. So much for being in Lady Luck’s good books. She’d put an all-seeing
detective in the middle of his heist. But as the woman’s eyes sparkled with an inner light, his uneasiness gave way to intrigue.
And if his hunch was correct, then perhaps this wasn’t the disaster he’d expected. In fact, it could be quite the opportunity…
“A treasure detective, huh?” Locke plucked a silver coin from thin air and smiled. “Well, let’s put your skills to the test, shall
we?”
Locke broke into a grin as he hid the coin with a flick of his hand. But despite his roguish smile, Thea sighed and shook her
head.
“Are you serious?” Thea rolled her eyes, before she pulled the coin from behind Locke’s ear. “That’s the oldest trick in the
book.”
“Well, how about round two?” Locke took the coin, and used his sleight of hand to make it disappear once more. “Let’s see
how perceptive you really are.”
Thea fixed him with a look of disbelief, unconvinced by his party tricks. But despite her reservations, she studied their
surroundings for any sign of the coin. Her eyes widened as a waiter passed by, before she plucked a champagne flute from his
tray of drinks.
“Hey, that’s cheating!” She peered inside the glass, where the coin sparkled beneath the bubbling liquid. “How many of these
coins do you have?”
“Me? Cheating? In front of the God of Thieves and Tricksters?” Locke chuckled as he glanced at the painting of Hermes. “I
merely altered the rules to my advantage. Now, time for the final round.”
Despite Thea’s protests, he plucked the coin from her glass, until he vanished it into thin air once more. Her eyes narrowed
as she searched for it, like a predator hunting for its prey. But Locke smiled knowingly as her search proved futile. She might
be a good detective, but even she couldn’t outsmart the descendant of the God of Tricksters.
Locke’s smile faded as Thea’s eyes sparkled, radiating with an inner power of their own. Slowly, she turned to the painting
of Hermes that hung behind them, and studied the foreground of his cave of treasures. She drew a breath in realization, before
she reached towards the canvas and pulled a coin from its surface.
Her eyes widened as she gazed at the coin, before she drew a shaky breath. “How did you do that?”
But despite Thea’s bewilderment at Locke’s sleight of hand, he felt the earth rock beneath him in surprise. “Funny. I was
about to ask you the same.”
Locke studied the woman as she held his coin in the light. That trick had been infallible. An illusion that no mortal eye could
detect. And yet, she’d solved it within seconds. But as her eyes sparkled once more, he drew a breath as his suspicions were
confirmed. He might be a demigod in disguise, but this woman held a power of her own. A power that he’d thought was long
lost. A power that could change everything.
“You see?” Thea smiled as she returned the coin to him. “There’s no mystery I can’t solve.”
“Well then, I might just have a case for you after all. A case that will take you out of the shadows and into the spotlight.”
Locke glanced at the portrait of Hermes, where he gazed longingly at the golden path of light his ancestor followed. “I’ll wait
for your call.”
“But you haven’t left your number, err…”
“Locke.” He broke into a mischievous grin and studied her eyes once more. “And if you’re as good as you say you are,
you’ll find me.”
Without another word, Locke strode towards the darkness and disappeared in the gloom. With a chuckle, he drew his cloak
of shadows over the Dragonfire Diamond, before switching it with a fake with a sleight of his hand. The diamond gleamed in
his hands, bathing him in a magical glow that sent shimmers into the surrounding air. But despite its beauty, he returned his gaze
to the woman in the shadows. He might have come to this town for the Dragonfire Diamond. But something told him he’d just
found the greatest treasure of them all.
Locke smiled to himself as he disappeared into the darkness. Perhaps Lady Luck was on his side, after all. The game was
set. Now all he had to do was wait.
 2

IT DIDN’T TAKE THEA’S skills of detection to know that there was a shortage of two things in this town. One was the
attention of dark and brooding men who shared her interest in dusty old relics. The other was a case that offered more
excitement than finding Ms. Grae’s missing spectacles. But as she studied the coin in her hand, Thea broke into a smile.
Perhaps her luck was beginning to change.
“The Shadow Thieves?“ Thea’s brows furrowed as she translated the ancient Greek text carved into the coin. An insignia of
a pair of winged sandals was engraved in its center, while its surface shimmered with a golden light, as if it had been coated in
stardust. “Well, if they have a more interesting case than finding lost belongings, then count me in.”
Thea gazed at the crowd of revelers below, searching for the dark-haired stranger once more. But he’d vanished, no doubt
disappearing into thin air along with the rest of the eligible men in this town. And as she glanced at the rich and pretentious
crowd of collectors, she just wished she could do the same.
Her stomach churned as the celebrations unfolded below. Usually, having a single visitor at the Museum of Lost Treasures
would be a cause for celebration. But as hungry eyes roved across the display cases, Thea knew these were no ordinary
visitors. No, these people were like vultures. And this museum was nothing more than a tasty carcass to fight over.
Thea’s eyes narrowed as a portly figure scuttled through the crowd. Talk about the biggest vulture of all. She took an
emboldening gulp from her champagne glass, and before she could think twice, marched through the crowd towards him.
“Professor Plutus!”
Thea groaned as the portly professor picked up his pace, weaving between ancient treasures as he tried to evade her. But as
a sharp yelp filled the air, she couldn’t help but break into a grin. Something told her the professor had fallen foul of the pointy
end of Hermes’ staff once again. With a smile, she approached the pompous man, who desperately tried to free his plum-
colored suit jacket from a nearby statue.
“Blast these nuisance statues! It’s like they do this on purpose!”
“Well, maybe you should look where you’re going before you run into Hermes’ caduceus.” Thea chuckled as she unhooked
Professor Plutus from the staff. “He is the God of Tricksters and Thieves, after all.”
“He’s the god of being a pain in my backside, if you ask me. Perhaps he’ll learn his lesson if I place his magical wand in the
furnace!” Professor Plutus scowled at the statues, his disapproval magnified by the monocle perched on his bulbous nose.
“Now, I thought I told you to make yourself scarce this evening. Don’t you have some lost property to find?”
“I don’t find lost property. I find lost treasure.“ Thea tried to ignore the look of disdain magnified in Professor Plutus’
monocle. “And I won’t stand by while you turn this museum into your personal auction house.”
Thea glanced at the Dragonfire Diamond as it gleamed in the light. A rare and ancient artifact her father had unearthed to
display in his Museum of Lost Treasures. And she knew that if she didn’t stop this auction, its days of lighting up the museum
would soon be history.
“Thea, look around. This museum has grown dustier than our dinosaur displays. Our visitors are dwindling, our displays are
dated, and even the treasures don’t sparkle like they used to.” Professor Plutus grimaced as he wiped a cobweb from a nearby
cabinet. “Until we get new treasures to draw in the crowds, we have to make ends meet. Which means we have to take action.”
Professor Plutus marched through the crowd, eager to slip away once more. But Thea followed him through the Grecian
ruins, pursuing him like a terrier nipping at his heels.
“But you can’t sell the Dragonfire Diamond. It belongs to my father…”
“... who donated it to this museum. Which, in case you’ve forgotten, now belongs to me.” Professor Plutus’ scowl deepened
as he marched between the antiques. “And I’m afraid I can’t hold on to all of these treasures in the hope that your father will
return one day. Not when there are bills to pay.”
 “But he will return.“ Thea placed a hand on her locket and sighed. “He just needs to finish his expedition…”
Thea’s voice trailed off at Professor Plutus’ look of disbelief. And as she gazed at the years-worth of dust that had
accumulated in her father’s absence, she had to admit that he had a point. She sighed, knowing that with every day that passed,
her dream of seeing him once again grew more distant.
“Please, just give me some time. I’ll think of something.” Thea shot Professor Plutus a reassuring smile. “I’ll find new
treasures that will make this museum famous again.”
“Pah! Your father might have been a great treasure hunter, but it’s clear that his talents don’t run in the family.” Professor
Plutus’ mustache convulsed at the mere suggestion. “I hardly think the case of Ms. Grae’s lost spectacles will draw in the
crowds.”
“Hey, I can find more than lost spectacles.” Thea steeled herself to withstand the force of Professor Plutus’ scowl, knowing
she couldn’t afford to back down. “In fact, there are plenty of cases I’m working on right now…”
“Is that so?” Professor Plutus inched closer, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Thea?
Particularly not with your… condition?”
“Of course not, Professor Plutus.” Thea’s stomach churned, until she swallowed back a wave of nausea. “We’ve got some
interesting leads coming through…”
Thea’s stomach grumbled at the half truth, sending another wave of nausea racing through her. She cursed as her condition
took hold of her, forcing her to tell the truth. She glanced at her reflection in the display cabinet, to see her complexion turn as
sickly green as the mold currently growing on the Atlantis exhibition.
“Then enlighten me, my dear. What are you and your so-called Treasure Detectives searching for? Perhaps the Sapphire of
Angkor? Or the Sarcophagus of Menkaure? Or even the vanished volumes of Vasari?” Thea clutched her stomach as Professor
Plutus inched closer, until his magnified monocle filled her vision. “Tell me, my dear, what is this great treasure capable of
reversing this museum’s fortune?”
“Why, she’s looking for our dentures, of course!”
Professor Plutus yelped in fright as three pairs of gummy smiles emerged from behind a display cabinet. The crowd parted at
the sight of the women, who looked older than most of the surrounding relics, and dustier too. But as they made a beeline for
Thea, she couldn’t help but feel her heart sink.
Professor Plutus glanced at the Grae sisters in bewilderment as they approached. He grimaced as the scent of their beloved
junkyard lingered on their clothing, and pressed a handkerchief to his nose before he returned his scowl to Thea.
“You’re looking for… their dentures?”
“Of course she is!” The eldest sister leaned forwards with her swan-shaped body, her robes billowing like a garbage-
scented specter. “It was bad enough that our spectacles went missing, but alas, our poor fortune continues. Our dentures were
plucked from our very jaws while we slept!”
“Stolen by some devil in the middle of the night!” The middle sister paused her knitting, before she wiped away her tears
with the mismatched quilt they wove between them. “Befouled by dark magics and malevolent curses!”
“We must catch the thief! And when we do…” The youngest sister rubbed her scrawny hands together and broke into a
devilish cackle. “We’ll boil him in a cauldron!”
The sisters filled the museum with their macabre delight, before they wove their quilt in a frenzied clicking of their knitting
needles. But Thea squirmed as Professor Plutus turned to her with a knowing gaze.
“So, this is the case you’re working on? This is the great treasure you’re currently searching for?”
“I, uh…” Thea glanced between Professor Plutus and the Grae sisters, while her stomach churned once more. “Well…”
“Of course it is! Those dentures were given to us by our dear half-sisters, bestowed with a great and powerful magic.
Besides, what greater treasure is there than the gift of beauty?” Professor Plutus recoiled as the sisters flashed him their gummy
grins. “And we can rest easy knowing the best treasure hunter in town is working on the case! Isn’t that right, Thea?”
Thea’s heart sank as the Grae sisters looked at her pleadingly. With a sigh of defeat, she nodded.
“Of course, Ms. Grae. I’ll find your… treasure… and make sure it’s returned safely.“ Thea pulled a small circular tag from
her pocket and handed it to the sisters. “In the meantime, place this tracker on anything valuable. If it goes missing, I’ll be able
to find it without a hitch.”
“What a saint you are, my dear!” The eldest Grae sister placed the tag on her knitting needles, before breaking into another
toothless smile. “Your father would be most proud of you!”
Thea’s heart sank as the Grae sisters departed in a series of cackles, their robes billowing behind them as if caught in an
invisible wind. She knew the sisters meant well, but her father had only been interested in one thing. Finding the greatest
treasures in the world. And something told her that solving the case of their missing dentures wouldn’t live up to his
expectations.
“Now where were we? Ah yes, you were telling me about this great treasure you’re searching for.” Thea groaned as
Professor Plutus’s monocle magnified his disapproving scowl. “Perhaps you could enlighten me how a pair of dentures will
draw the crowds to this museum once more?”
 “I can explain…”
“No, let me explain, Thea. It was out of respect to your father that I’ve humored your harebrained ideas and escapades. But it
doesn’t take a detective to deduce that this museum’s days are numbered.” Professor Plutus shook his head as he gazed at the
dust-covered displays. “These treasures don’t hold the same appeal as they once did. And unless we find a way to draw in
visitors, this auction will be the first of many.”
“But I can follow in my father’s footsteps. I’ll search the dustiest of catacombs. I’ll brave ancient booby-trapped temples.
I’ll find new treasures...”
“Your father was a great man. But not everyone gets to go on great adventures and be the hero, Thea. Some things are better
left to the professionals.” Professor Plutus shook his head, as if the matter was decided. “Perhaps it’s best you stay in that Lost
and Found of yours, hmm?”
“For the last time, it’s not a Lost and Found!” Thea followed Professor Plutus as he marched through the crowd once more.
“I just need one case. One opportunity to find real treasure. One chance to prove myself…”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to listen to your fantasies, Thea. Every treasure collector this side of the hemisphere has
gathered for this auction, and I expect you to be on your best behavior. Which means no stunts, no harebrained ideas, and no…
accidents.“ Professor Plutus’ eyes narrowed at Thea pointedly. “Now make yourself useful and check that the Grae sisters
haven’t fallen asleep in the sarcophagi again. The last thing I want is for those crones to scare off a potential buyer.”
Without another word, Professor Plutus took his place next to the Dragonfire Diamond, leaving Thea feeling more hopeless
than ever. Her heart sank as the crowd broke into applause, before the auction began. As she stood in the shadows, she gazed at
the museum in despair. Once, this had been a place where lost treasures brought light into people’s lives. But ever since her
father had disappeared, it had lost its sparkle, just like her.
“With a frown like that, you could give the gargoyles around here a run for their money.”
Thea turned to be greeted by Uncle Angus’s kindly smile. He wore his usual tweed suit, the fabric carrying the musty scent of
the archives, while a posy of wildflowers sat brightly in his suit pocket. She sighed and shook her head, knowing there was no
use in keeping a secret from him. The eccentric historian might not be her uncle by blood, but he was the closest thing to family
she had.
“I wish my father was still here, Angus.” Thea placed a hand on her locket, and gazed glumly at the dusty display cabinets.
“He would know what to do. He would find a way to turn this museum’s fortunes around, and stop Professor Plutus from
selling everything in sight.”
“Never forget that you’re your father’s daughter, Thea. He could solve any problem thrown his way, and so can you.” Angus
looked beyond the Dragonfire Diamond, to the vast painting of Hermes hung behind it. “Besides, at least there’s one treasure
that Professor Plutus can’t get his money-grabbing hands on.”
Thea followed her uncle’s gaze to the canvas, where Hermes soared on a golden road towards a treasure trove of spoils. It
had been her father’s most prized possession. And now, it was all she had left of him.
“He always said that painting would lead me to the greatest treasure of all.” Thea moved her gaze from the piles of riches, to
the golden staff Hermes wielded. “I just wish it would get to work faster.”
As the bidding continued below, Thea studied the caduceus held by the God of Thieves within the painting. A legendary staff
bound by two serpents, said to grant a wish to its beholder. Well, right now, she was willing to make a wish to whoever was
listening. She closed her eyes, and made the same wish that had gone unanswered for years. A wish to become a hero, just like
her father. A wish for magic and adventure, where she could discover great treasures that could light up the world. A wish to
solve the greatest mystery of all, and find her father.
As Thea made her plea, her fingers brushed the cold metal of the coin in her pocket. She held it tightly as she sent her wish to
the heavens, hoping some kindly mythical deity might happen to be eavesdropping into a small-town museum. She drew a
breath as, for a moment, she felt something stir deep in her heart. Something magical, that warmed her veins with an inner light.
Something…
“What a marvelous bid, ladies and gentleman!”
Thea groaned as she was pulled from her daydream, and was greeted by Hermes’ ever-playful smile on the canvas. So much
for granting her wish. People like her didn’t get to go on magical adventures, and the sooner she remembered that, the better.
She glumly returned her gaze to Professor Plutus as he stood before the cheering crowd, the dollar signs practically gleaming in
his eyes.
“Ladies and gentlemen, that must be a record bid! Unless there are any other offers, then this treasure is going…”
Thea gazed longingly at the Dragonfire Diamond, knowing that in mere seconds, its light would be taken from this museum
forever. But as she studied the precious stone, she drew a startled breath. Golden speckles of light appeared before the
diamond, like fireflies dancing in the night sky.
“Angus, do you see that?”
“Do I see what, dear?“ The elderly archivist glanced at the auction, where Professor Plutus excitedly gesticulated with his
auction hammer. “The only thing I see is the blinding greed of that intolerable man.”
 But Thea watched as the golden shimmers settled over the diamond. They sparkled playfully in the light, carrying an air of
mischief and mirth. As Thea studied the sight, a strange sensation stirred deep within her heart. A feeling that something was
amiss…
As Professor Plutus’ mustache convulsed with excitement at the auction, Thea edged closer to study the diamond. As the
golden shimmers sparkled in the light, her feeling of uneasiness increased. To the outside eye, the diamond looked perfectly
normal, but to her, it felt wrong. It was as if there was more to it than met the eye. And the longer she studied it, the stronger her
feeling became.
“Ladies and gentleman, this is your last chance to own a unique piece of history!” Professor Plutus readied his hammer to
close the sale. “It’s going, going…”
Thea gasped as realization struck her. She raced across the museum, ignoring the startled yelps and disapproving scowls as
she elbowed her way to the front of the crowd. Before she could think twice, she leaped towards the diamond with a cry of
warning.
Professor Plutus’ eyes widened as Thea burst into the spotlight. The vein on his forehead bulged, while his auction hammer
hovered in the air, seconds away from closing the sale.
“Thea?” He spoke in a furious whisper, whilst nervously smiling to the crowd below. “What on earth are you doing?”
“I think I’ve just found my case, Professor Plutus. A case that will put this museum back in the headlines.” Thea plucked the
diamond from the pedestal, much to the shrieks of Professor Plutus and the crowd. “A case where I can search for real treasure,
and prove I’m a hero, once and for all.”
Professor Plutus’ eyes widened fearfully as Thea raised the diamond into the air.
“No, Thea! That’s a priceless antique! A one-of-a-kind treasure!” His mustache convulsed with terror as Thea held the
diamond. “Put that down, before you…”
Thea threw the diamond to the ground. A deafening crash filled the museum, followed by a thick plume of dust as it shattered
into pieces. A cry of horror rippled through the crowd, while a nearby art collector fainted into the arms of a bewildered
waiter. Silence descended as the crowd looked in stunned disbelief at the fragments of the Dragonfire Diamond. No one dared
to move. No one dared to speak. No one dared to breathe. But as the dust cleared, one person approached, their fury magnified
by their monocle.
“That’s it! For years I’ve put up with your harebrained ideas and troublesome escapades. I’d hoped that working in the Lost
and Found might have kept you from trouble, but clearly, I was mistaken.“ Professor Plutus inhaled deeply, until he resembled a
beetroot balloon. “That diamond was priceless! An irreplaceable treasure! A one-of-a-kind!”
But despite Professor Plutus’ rage, Thea broke into a smile.
“You’re right. The diamond is a one-of-a-kind treasure.”
“Then why on earth did you destroy it?”
“I didn’t destroy the diamond.” Thea retrieved a fragment of the broken gemstone and held it to the light. “It was a fake.”
The crowd drew a collective intake of breath. As the truth dawned on Professor Plutus, his chest sagged like a slowly
deflating balloon. His face burned a deep shade of crimson, while his mustache twitched with an uncontrollable fury.
“But who would do such a thing?”
Thea’s eyes widened as she sifted through the fragments of broken glass. Buried within the glittering shards lay a coin that
shimmered with a golden haze. She held it to the light, until a familiar engraving reflected on its surface. Her stomach churned
as she gazed at the insignia of a pair of winged sandals, and pulled out an identical coin from her pocket.
“I think I know just the person.”
 3

“THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! It’s preposterous. It’s, it’s…”

“Genius.”
Thea returned her attention to the fake gemstone, ignoring the fury of the professor beside her. With the auction canceled and
the crowds sent home, she’d finally had the chance to study the forgery. And she’d never seen anything like it.
“This craftsmanship is exquisite. Every detail is exact, every feature is perfected. And this material is unlike anything I’ve
seen before.” Thea crumbled the glass-like substance between her fingers, until it dissolved into wisps of shadow. “Such a feat
is almost impossible.”
“Well, I can’t say I share your appreciation for forgery. That stunt cost me a small fortune!” Professor Plutus’ scowl
deepened as he examined the fragments of the fake gemstone. “So, what gave it away?”
“It just looked out of place to me. It was as if it… felt wrong.“ Thea thought back to the strange golden glimmers in her
vision, and the sensation that had stirred within her heart. “It was just a hunch, really.”
Professor Plutus spluttered in disbelief. “You risked destroying a priceless antique over a hunch?”
“Well, I was fairly certain—“
“Poppycock! It was a lucky guess, and a poorly timed one at that. Thanks to your performance, we’ll have to find another
way to keep this money-pit of a museum afloat.” Professor Plutus shooed Thea away from the remnants of the diamond. “Now
get your grubby hands off those fragments. I need the whole thing dusted for fingerprints to find the criminal responsible for
this. Someone get me the Sheriff! Get me the CIA! Get me Interpol!”
“You don’t need to dust for fingerprints.” Thea studied the coin that had been buried within the forgery, where a series of
symbols were carved onto its surface. “You can just give the thief a call.”
“What a preposterous idea! Whoever stole the Dragonfire Diamond will be the most wanted person in town. He’d hardly
just leave his phone number at the scene of the crime.” Professor Plutus snatched the coin from Thea and narrowed his eyes at
the engraving. “This is nothing more than a bunch of gobbledygook.”
“Actually, they’re numbers. Specifically, Ancient Greek numerals.” Thea pointed to the symbols carved onto the coin’s
surface. “And if I’m not mistaken, they spell out a phone number.”
The vein on Professor Plutus’ forehead bulged as he studied the coin once more. His face turned crimson, before he
bellowed to those remaining in the museum.
“Somebody bring me my phone, this instant!”
As the remaining stragglers raced away to obey Professor Plutus’ commands, Thea returned her attention to the two identical
coins before her. One that had been buried within the scene of a crime. The other, given to her with a promise it would lead to
a case of a lifetime. Thea sighed and cursed at her luck. So much for attracting the attention of a dark and brooding stranger.
She’d been nothing more than an accessory to his crime.
Professor Plutus reappeared, his face growing more beetroot-colored by the second.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” He thrust his phone into Thea’s hands, while his mustache quivered uncontrollably. “Call
the criminal this instant, and understand his demands.”
“Me?“ Thea looked at Professor Plutus in bewilderment. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Do I look like the type of person who would speak with a criminal deviant?” Professor Plutus shook his head at the mere
thought, before he narrowed his eyes at Thea. “You were the one to cavort with the criminal. Which means you should fix this
mess.”
“I wasn’t cavorting with anyone! I was making small talk!”
But Thea sighed as Professor Plutus’ scowl reached a new level of disapproval. She reluctantly took the phone, before
cursing once more at her bad luck. This was why she shouldn’t try to play the hero. Every time she did, it always ended in
disaster.
Thea focused as she deciphered the ancient symbols, dialing them into the phone until the number was complete. With a deep
breath, she placed the phone onto speaker and pressed the call button.
“At last. I was beginning to think you were ghosting me.”
Thea blushed as Locke’s gravelly voice filled the other end of the line. For a moment, she stood mute, unsure of what to say
to the man who had both charmed her and made her an accessory to his crime. But a flicker of irritation swept through her as
she gazed at the phone. This whole escapade was probably nothing more than a game to him. And she refused to play by his
rules.
“When you told me you had a case for me, I didn’t expect it to be this.” Thea lowered her voice to a whisper as she paced
through the museum, conscious Professor Plutus was listening to her every word. “There are easier ways to give someone your
number than stealing a priceless treasure.”
“And where would be the fun in that? Besides, it takes something special to capture the attention of a beautiful woman.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything…” Thea’s cheeks turned crimson, and she shook her head in frustration. She
was supposed to secure the return of an ancient diamond, not endure the flirtations of a wanted criminal. “Look, just tell me
what your demands are to return the diamond.”
“My demands?”
“Yeah, you know. Suitcases of money, bars of gold, chests full of precious stones…” Thea gulped as Professor Plutus shook
his head in exasperation. “Whatever it is you want, we’ll give it to you.”
“Really? You’re willing to give me whatever I want?”
“Yes.” Thea drew a breath, trying to summon her confidence. “My father found that artifact, and I’ll do anything to secure its
return.”
“Well, there is one thing…”
“Name it.” Thea leaned towards the phone eagerly. “Whatever it is, it’s yours.”
“Very well. I’ll have dinner with you. Tonight.”
Silence descended across the museum. Thea stopped in her tracks and looked at the phone in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious. That treasure is priceless. You could name anything in the world…”
“I don’t want anything in the world. I want dinner. With you.” Locke’s voice floated through the phone, effortlessly laced
with his charm. “So, what’s your answer, Thea?”
Thea spun to face Professor Plutus in bewilderment. He nodded eagerly, while his mustache quivered uncontrollably. But
Thea’s irritation grew as she sensed Locke’s mischievous grin radiate through the phone. He had already made her a partner in
his crime. And she wasn’t about to get sucked into whatever game he was playing.
“No.”
Thea yelped as Professor Plutus snatched the phone from her hands. His face turned a deep shade of beetroot, while he
barked down the phone like an army general issuing threats to the enemy.
“Now listen here, sonny. I don’t care for anyone who gets in the way of business. But if it’s dinner you want, then it’s dinner
you’ll get.” The professor’s eyes narrowed at Thea, like a predator watching its prey. “Name the place, and she’ll be there.”
Thea shot Professor Plutus with a furious scowl. She tried to snatch the phone from his hands, but he held it high in the air,
until Locke’s gravelly voice filled the line once more.
“Good. We’ll meet by the clock tower in an hour. And we’ll meet alone.“ Thea’s anger grew as she sensed Locke’s smile
deepen. “See you there, Thea. It’s a date.”
Thea drew a startled breath as the line went dead. Her blood boiled with anger, until she fixed Professor Plutus with a
formidable glare.
“If you think I’m going for dinner with a criminal—“
“That antique was the only thing stopping this museum from sinking into oblivion. Without its sale, we’re doomed. We need
to do whatever it takes.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to go on a date with this town’s most-wanted.”
“Then how else do you propose we raise the funds to keep this museum in business? Most of the objects in here are
worthless junk in comparison.” Professor Plutus studied the display cabinets in disdain, until his gaze landed on the painting of
Hermes. “Unless, of course, you’d be willing to part with a treasure of your own? That painting would fetch a healthy sum at
auction…”
“That painting was the only thing left to me by my father.” Thea’s anger deepened as she saw the greed within Professor
Plutus’ eyes. “Its value to me is worth far more than it could ever fetch at auction.”
“Why let your heart ruin a perfectly good business opportunity?” Professor Plutus tutted in disapproval. “Well then, unless
you have any other bright ideas, I’m afraid you have no choice but to go for dinner with that miscreant. The future of this
museum is at stake.”
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„Zwijg!” veegde de kapitein den ellendeling toe, „je woorden ontheiligen
den naam van dat meisje. Dus is mijn vermoeden toch waar gebleken! Jij
hebt Florence Preston geroofd—en misschien viel zij onder je moordend
mes!”

De gevangene schudde het hoofd.

„Gij vergist u, kapitein. Maar wat kunt gij ook van een man verwachten, die
van edelman tot straatroover is gezonken en nu een verachtelijk
gedeporteerde is die onder de tuchtroede van een onverbiddelijk
gouverneur zijn bestaan in de eenzaamheid van een ver land zal besluiten
—een wild dier onder dieren!—en toch vergist ge u. Ik ben wel een
misdadiger en de omstreken van de Clyde kunnen van mijn daden
gewagen.

„Menige postwagen viel in mijn handen en in die mijner makkers en

menige pachthoeve ging in de vlammen op.

„Doch geen dezer daden had haar oorsprong in de zucht naar geld, in
gemeene hebzucht—nimmer waren deze erbarmelijke eigenschappen de
drijfveer tot mijn misdaden.

„Neen, slechts jeugdige lichtzinnigheid, waaraan een strenge vader door

onterving paal en perk wilde stellen en de onbeteugelde drang naar genot,
trok mij op dien weg en deed den zoon van den baronet Lee de
straatroover Kerry Morris worden.

„Wij kennen elkander sinds langen tijd, Sir John, en wij hebben beiden de
schoone Florence gekend, en beiden beminden wij haar.

„Waarom wees zij mij af?

„Ware het geluk harer liefde mij ten deel gevallen, wellicht zou ik een
nieuw, een beter leven begonnen zijn!

„Maar het heeft niet zoo mogen zijn, want het Noodlot trad in uw persoon,
kapitein, tusschen mij en het voorwerp mijner liefde.
„En ik—ik vond op een andere wijze een gedeeltelijke genoegdoening.”

De misdadiger had zonder ophouden gesproken, hartstochtelijk, als in

koorts. Zijn oogen gloeiden zijn ademloozen toehoorder tegen, als wilde hij
hem verbrijzelen.

Kapitein Warthon was bleek van innerlijke ontroering, maar nieuwe hoop
doortrilde zijn tot nog toe troosteloos hart.

„Leeft zij?” vroeg hij sidderend.

„Zij leeft en is in goede bewaring”, antwoordde de misdadiger. „Lady

Florence werd door mij en met de hulp mijner trouwe bondgenooten
geschaakt.

„Zes maanden zijn er sedert verloopen en de politie heeft nog geen spoor
van haar kunnen vinden. Twee weken later viel ik in handen van het
gerecht, maar ik hield wijselijk mijn mond over dezen besten streek, dien ik
ooit in mijn leven heb uitgehaald.”

Zij leeft!

Deze gedachte was schier overweldigend voor Warthon, die de geliefde

zijns harten als een doode betreurd had.

Welk een slag was het voor hem geweest, toen hij, van een korte reis naar
Spitehead teruggekeerd, het vreeselijke bericht ontving, dat Florence niet
teruggekeerd was van een wandeling in het park van Preston-Hall, het
verblijf haars vaders, en dat zij waarschijnlijk [7]ontvoerd was geworden
door de Hooglandsche Schotten, die gewoonlijk de grenzen onzeker
maakten.

Zulke overvallen waren niets zeldzaams en de politie gaf zich in zulke

gevallen ook niet erg veel moeite.

Maar hier bleven ook de navorschingen van Warthon en van de talrijke

familieleden zijner bruid zonder gevolg.
En thans, nu hij reeds alle hoop had opgegeven, drong plotseling een
heldere lichtstraal in zijn in duisternis gehulde ziel.

Den voormaligen edelman, en straatroover was de ontroering des

kapiteins niet ontgaan.

Iets als een triomf vloog er over zijn bleek en verwilderd gelaat. Maar met
het zich van de zege bewuste geduld van een indiaan wachtte hij op een
vraag, die nog komen zou—nog komen moest.

En zij kwam.

„Waar is zij? Waar is Lady Preston?” klonk het van de bevende lippen van
den zeeman. „Als je een mensch bent, zal je mij het antwoord niet
weigeren. Welk nut zou je er ook van hebben? Je vrijheid is je toch voor
altijd ontnomen.”

„Gij handelt al zeer weinig diplomatisch, Sir John”, antwoordde Lee

ironisch.

„Gij vergeet, dat ik, die levenslang gedeporteerd ben, ook geen verdere
schade van mijn stilzwijgen te wachten heb.”

„De straffen konden je dwingen.—”

„Spaar mij uw bedreigingen, kapitein. Geen macht ter wereld zal mij met
geweld een bekentenis ontlokken.”

De vastberaden toon, waarop deze woorden gesproken werden, deed den

kapitein inzien, dat hij op die manier zijn doel nooit zou bereiken. Hij moest
deze trotsche weerspannigheid anders behandelen.

„Je hardnekkigheid zal je slechts schade doen”, zeide hij streng. „Aan den
anderen kant kan ik veel, zeer veel voor je doen. Wijs mij de plaats aan,
waar je Lady Preston verborgen hebt, dan zal ik den koning verzoeken, je
genade te schenken of althans je straf te bekorten of te verzachten.”
„IJdele beloften, al even belachelijk als uw bedreigingen”, antwoordde de
gevangene. „Als ik eenmaal mijn geheim had prijs gegeven, dan zoudt ge
mij weldra vergeten. Maar zelfs in het beste geval—denkt gij, dat men in
Engeland zoo goedhartig is om een straatroover de vrijheid weer te geven,
omdat hij een smachtend minnaar aan zijn geliefde heeft geholpen? Neen,
kapitein, op die manier worden wij het nooit eens.”

„Ellendeling!” viel de kapitein woedend uit. „Doe boete voor je misdaden

door een goede daad. Heeft je hart dan geen menschelijke gevoelens
meer?”

„Gaat gij preeken?” lachte de misdadiger.

„Hoe dom! Waarom zegt ge niet liever: de eene goede daad tegen de
andere?”

„Hoe moet ik dat begrijpen?”

„Verschaf mij de vrijheid door de macht, die gij als bevelhebber aan boord
geniet en de plaats waar ik Lady Preston verborgen heb, zal geen geheim
voor u zijn.”

„Ik moet—?”

„Mij helpen vluchten. Wanneer ge mij eerst in handen van het gerecht
uitlevert, dan is alles uit, voor mij en—voor u!”

Deze woorden maakten den kapitein de bedoeling van zijn voormaligen

medeminnaar duidelijk.

Hij walgde.

„Dus zou ik de vrijheid van het ontvoerde meisje moeten koopen door een
vergrijp tegen mijn plicht!” riep hij uit. „Ik, een officier in koninklijke dienst,
zou een gevangene, een tienvoudige roover, laten ontkomen? Ellendeling,
ik moest je dadelijk aan den nok van de mast laten bengelen!”
De misdadiger bewaarde zijn kalmte. „Waarom die onnoodige opwinding,
kapitein? Gij kunt mij laten ophangen—daar hebt gij het recht toe. Maar
wat zal er dan van de schoone Florence worden? Mijn geheim zou ik met
mij meenemen. Wij hebben beiden den tijd, denk eens na over mijn
voorstel.”

Warthon gevoelde zijn onmacht, maar hij waagde het niet, zijn gedachten
verder uit te spinnen.

Zijn hart bonsde en de duffe lucht in deze kleine cel, dreigde hem te zullen
doen stikken.

Hij rukte de deur open en verwijderde zich met langzame schreden, terwijl
de sergeant de grendels weer dichtschoof.

De dagen werden weken, de weken maanden.

Voor de celbewoners aan boord was het een tijd van vreeselijke
eentonigheid, de eenige afwisseling was elken dag twee uur militaire
wandeling op het dek, waar de frissche lucht de longen moest
verfrisschen.

Met den kapitein had in dien tusschentijd een zonderlinge verandering

plaats gehad.

Sedert dien dag van zijn onderhoud met Lee was zijn ernst in droefheid
veranderd. [8]

Het maakte den indruk alsof hij door een idee was bevangen, dat hem
geheel en al beheerschte.

Intusschen trok de „Victory” haar voren door de zeeën van het zuidelijk
halfrond en verder naar het Oosten.

De Tafelberg bleef achter, schemerend in het licht der ondergaande zon.

Eindelijk, na een onafgebroken vaart van honderd en tien dagen, kwam de
Australische kust …

Het was vroeg in den morgen, de lucht was koel, de zee hoog. Terwijl de
kapitein door zijn kijker het opduikende land beschouwde, naderde hem de
sergeant met zijn eene hand aan zijn sjako en met de andere een klein
voorwerp vasthoudende.

Het was een zilveren medaillon aan een dun snoer.

Warthon wierp een vragenden blik op den sergeant.

„Nummer 47 droeg het om zijn hals.”

Warthon schrok. „Kerry Morris?”

„Om u te dienen, kapitein, Kerry Morris. Hij wilde het wel niet afgeven,
maar natuurlijk nam ik het hem af.”

De kapitein draaide het medaillon in zijn vingers rond, totdat het deksel
open sprong.

De inhoud was een lok goudblond haar, met een blauw zijden lint
omwikkeld.

„Breng no. 47 in mijn hut”, beval hij met bevende stem.

De sergeant verwijderde zich haastig.

Toen Lee de hut van den kapitein binnentrad, leunde deze nadenkend
over zijn kaartentafel heen.

De wachten in de gang bleven voor de deur staan. De binnentredende

wilde met het voorgeschreven melden beginnen, maar Warthon sneed
hem het woord af.

„Wat heeft dit te beteekenen?”

Lee wierp een blik op het geopende medaillon en antwoordde: „Het is mijn
eigendom, dat de heeren van de politie mij hebben laten behouden.”

„Dit haar—”

„Krulde eenmaal op het hoofd van Lady Preston”, zei de misdadiger. „Haar
weerstand was vergeefs; mijn schaar was sneller dan hare hand.”

Warthon drukte zijn lippen op den blonden haarlok van het meisje, dat hij
zoozeer had lief gehad en nog beminde.

Lee zag zijn doel nabij.

„Kapitein”, zei hij „gij hebt Lady Florence nog lief. Dan is uw aarzelen mij
onbegrijpelijk.”

„Mijn aarzelen?”

„Waarom zooveel omslag maken? Wij verstaan elkander immers! Waarom

wilt gij van uw levensgeluk afzien? Gij behoeft het slechts te willen en Lady
Florence wordt de uwe. Plicht en eer zijn holle frasen. Mijne vrijheid moet
de prijs van Lady Florence zijn. Wij zijn in het gezicht der Australische
kust. De tijd dringt, besluit dus.”

Het was Warthon alsof deze man een demonischen invloed op hem
uitoefende.

En hij kon zich daar niet aan onttrekken, want Lee had slechts herhaald
wat hij zichzelf reeds ontelbare malen had voorgehouden.

Hij had nu de keus of Florence te verliezen, of voor een oogenblik zijn eer
als officier te vergeten.

En hij besloot tot het laatste.

Hij zag zich weder als den gaarne gezienen gast in het huis der Prestons
en de bekoorlijke Florence luisterde naar zijne vurige woorden.
En toen toonde zij hem blozend den jongen man, die het, ofschoon
bekend als een woesteling en doordraaier, toch gewaagd had, haar van
zijn liefde te spreken.

De oude Preston, een man van strenge grondbeginselen, had den

onterfden zoon van den baronet, kortaf de deur gewezen.

Harry Lee was vertrokken, maar woedend en dorstend naar wraak.

Eenige weken van het reinste geluk vervlogen voor de beide gelieven,
toen trad de dienst scheidend tusschen beide.

Warthon moest een reis van verscheidene maanden ondernemen.

Toen hij weder te Preston-Hall terugkeerde, ontving hij de vreeselijke

tijding, dat men op zekeren avond de bekoorlijke dochter des huizes
ontvoerd had.

In die bewogen tijden behoort zoo iets geenszins tot de zeldzaamheden en

bij de langzaamheid der Engelsche en Schotsche justitie, zou een
bevredigende uitslag der ingestelde nasporingen een merkwaardigheid
zijn geweest.

De aan schuilhoeken zoo rijke Schotse bergstreken verzwaarden de

vervolging van het spoor.

Warthon liep rond als een vertwijfelde.

En nu had het lot hem de roover van zijn geluk in handen geleverd.

Hij zag de mogelijkheid voor zich, zijn Florence terug te vinden; en deze
man verlangde daarvoor als prijs, slechts zijn vrijheid!

De kapitein streed een korten, maar zware strijd; toen zei hij met
neergeslagen blik: [9]

Het zij zoo! Je zult je vrijheid hebben!”

Het vale gezicht van den misdadiger werd hooger gekleurd; het blijde
gevoel der naderende vrijheid deed hem sidderen van geluk.

„En wanneer zal het zijn—en hoe?” vroeg hij haastig.

„Daar moet ik eens rijpelijk over nadenken, want ik kan je niet zoo maar
loslaten zonder meer. Het moet den schijn van een vlucht hebben. Kan je
zwemmen?”

„Zeker.”

„Goed. Maar eerst—waar is Lady Preston?”

„Wie staat mij borg dat mijn vlucht zal gelukken, of dat gij werkelijk—”

„Mijn woord. Ik zweer het je!”

„Goed, ik geloof u. Gij zijt een edelman en daarom wil ik u vertrouwen—”

„Dus?” vroeg de kapitein bevend van spanning.

„De sleutel tot het nest van het geroofde vogeltje ligt in uwe hand: het is
het medaillon. Luister nu goed: Graafschap Essex, dorp Linghdale en de
weduwe Mik, de „oude Mik” genaamd. Geef deze het medaillon met een
groet van Kerry Morris en dan zal de oude vrouw u naar de plaats
brengen, waar Lady Florence zich bevind.”

„Bedrieg je mij niet?” vroeg Warthon, voor wien zich plotseling een wereld
van geluk opende.

Lee hief de rechterhand op tot een eed en zei plechtig:

„Zoo waar er een God boven ons is, ik sprak de waarheid!”

„Hoor dan wat ik je te zeggen heb: nog heden zal ik ergens in een stille
bocht binnenloopen om water in te nemen. Ik zal zorgen, dat je aan dek
bent en dat de marinier, die de wacht heeft, zijn geweer in je onmiddellijke
nabijheid achterlaat, want in de wildernis van Westelijk Australië heb je in
elk geval een wapen noodig.
„De jacht zal je in het leven houden, totdat het een of andere schip in zicht
komt, dat je als schipbreukeling zal opnemen.

„Hier is een kruithoorn en een zak kogels—bewaar die goed.—

„En ga nu heen. Het verdere komt wel terecht.”

De zak met kogels en de gevulde kruithoorn verdwenen op handige wijze

in de wijde beenbekleeding van den gevangene.

Warthon schelde en de mariniers namen den misdadiger in hun midden en

voerden hem in zijn cel terug.

Alleen gebleven, liet de kapitein zuchtend het hoofd in zijn handen zinken.

„God vergeve het mij”, mompelde hij, „wanneer ik heb misdreven, maar ik
heb het alleen gedaan uit liefde voor jou, mijn Florence! God schenke ons
een gelukkig wederzien!”

De maan stond helder en klaar aan den hemel, toen het acht glazen sloeg
—middernacht.

Zij bestraalde het idyllische beeld van een kleine, in de diepste rust
slapende baai en van het op het zilveren water wiegelende schip—de
„Victory”.

Kapitein Warthon had goed vaarwater gevonden en zijn schip tot dicht bij
den oever gebracht.

De naar den wal gezonden jol had een kleine, onder langbladerige
eucalyptussen voortstroomende beek gevonden, die goed drinkwater
opleverde.

De bevelhebber van het schip verkeerde in een nauwelijks te

overmeesteren opwinding; zijn ongeduld nam eerst een einde, toen de
acht klokslagen door de warme lucht galmden.
Hij liet door den officier van de wacht den sergeant met een marinier bij
zich roepen on ving met die twee zijn gewone ronde aan, waarbij hij
eenige cellen binnentrad, het laatst die van nummer 47.

Hier bewoog zich niets—geen melding, geen gedruisch.

Het zwarte licht van een buiten aan een balk hangende lantaarn deed
evenwel de op den grond liggende bewegenlooze gestalte van den
misdadiger herkennen.

„De hond slaapt”, zei de sergeant en stiet den misdadiger met den voet
aan.

Maar Lee verroerde zich niet.

„Alle donders, ik geloof, dat de kerel dood is.”

„Hij zal ziek zijn,” waagde de marinier aan te merken.

„Naar het dek met hem!” beval de kapitein, „hij is flauw gevallen in die
duffe lucht.

„Help hem oppakken, sergeant, de frissche lucht zal hem opknappen.”

Soldaat en sergeant droegen den bewusteloze gezamenlijk naar het

middendek.

Het bleeke licht van de volle maan viel op het gelaat van den misdadiger,
die met gesloten oogen op den grond lag.

Lee speelde zijn rol meesterlijk.

Warthon wierp een vorschenden blik om zich heen; [10]er was geen
gevaar: op de voorplecht patrouilleerde de boegpost op zijn dooie gemak.

„Je moet hem zijn ketting afnemen”, zeide de kapitein, „ik geloof, dat zijn
aderen opzwellen.”

De sergeant deed wat hem bevolen was. De ketenen vielen af.

„Sergeant”, vervolgde de kapitein, „laat je door den officier van de wacht
wat salmiak geven, de sleutel van de medicijnkast hangt in mijn hut. En jij,
marinier, haal jij gauw een puts water …

„Laat je geweer maar hier, zet het daar maar tegen aan, dan ben je
gauwer terug.”

De sergeant en de marinier verwijderden zich met snelle schreden—het

verwachte oogenblik was daar!

„Sta op!”

Als een bliksemstraal was Lee op de been; één blik in het rond was hem
voldoende: hij bevond zich met Warthon alleen; zijn gespierde hand greep
het geweer, waarvan de bajonet in het maanlicht flonkerde.

„Goed gedaan, Sir John Warthon”, fluisterde hij met een duivelschen lach,
„ga na haar de aangeduide plaats en zoek uw bruid.

„De oude Mik kan u de plek wijzen—maar dood, begraven!

„Met deze hand bracht ik haar om, toen zij weigerde mijn vrouw te
worden.… met dezelfde hand, die nu op u wraak zal nemen.”

De officier versteende schier bij deze woorden; hij greep naar zijn pistool,
het was te laat.

De kolf van het geweer flikkerde in de lucht en bonsde toen op zijn hoofd
neer.

Met een luiden kreet viel de kapitein op het dek neder, terwijl de pistool
hem uit de hand viel en afging.

Een seconde later sprong de vluchteling over boord en in het water.

De knal van het pistoolschot had de geheele bemanning gealarmeerd; het

regende kogels om den vluchteling heen die evenwel, met krachtigen slag
het water klievend, weldra in den duisternis verdween.
Ook de nasporingen, die den volgenden dag in het bosch naar hem
werden gedaan, waren vergeefsch.

Lee was verdwenen en nooit heeft men weder iets van hem gehoord. De
bewering van den ellendeling bleek evenwel juist te zijn, zooals kapitein
Warthon ervoer, nadat hij van zijn zware verwonding genezen en naar
Engeland was teruggekeerd.

Hij begaf zich naar Linghdale naar de weduwe Mik, een oude, dikke, in
kwaad gerucht staande vrouw, op wier gelaat haar misdadige aard
duidelijk te lezen was, liet haar het medaillon zien, bracht haar een groet
van Kerry Morris en verzocht haar, terwijl hij haar eenige goudstukken
toestopte, hem naar het graf van de vermoorde Florence te brengen.

De oude vrouw voldeed aan zijn verlangen, en toonde hem onder een
dikken beukeboom den grafheuvel, die de geliefde zijns harten bedekte.

Kapitein Warthon en de ongelukkige ouders lieten het stoffelijk overschot

van de vermoorde Florence naar Preston Hall overbrengen, waar het in
het familiegraf werd bijgezet.

Toen de plechtigheid was afgeloopen, verliet kapitein Warthon Engeland

voor altijd.

Hij had van het oude vaderland een afkeer gekregen.

In de jonge, tot zelfstandigheid gekomen Noord-Amerikaansche Republiek

heeft hij later een zeer beduidende, tot de geschiedenis behoorende rol
gespeeld.”

In ademlooze spanning had Charly geluisterd naar het lugubere verhaal

van zijn vriend.

„Toe, Edward”, drong hij aan, „vertel nog meer van die boeiende, tragische
geschiedenissen. Ik tref het niet vaak, dat je zoo mededeelzaam bent.

Lord Lister lachte en maakte een ontkennende beweging met het hoofd.
„Wel, Charly, je zoudt me zoo nog uren aan de praat houden. ’t Is voor
vandaag mooi geweest! O, ja, wat ik zeggen wou, heb je me straks niet om
iets gevraagd?”

Charly moest nu wel lachen.

„Ja, Edward, ik sprak je over onze berooide kas!”

„Juist, dàt was ’t! Ik dacht, dat je onze armoede waart vergeten! ’t Blijft dus
afgesproken, boy, dat ik je binnen een week een ronde som zal
overhandigen!”

Charly knikte toestemmend.

Hoe zijn vriend in het rustige Amsterdam het zou moeten aanleggen om
een kapitaaltje te bemachtigen?

„Ik weet het niet”, peinsde Charly, toen hij zich naar zijn kamer begaf, „ik
weet het niet en ik begrijp het niet. Maar ik houd m’n hart vast!” [11]

[Inhoud]
TWEEDE HOOFDSTUK.
 In de Whistclub.

„Charly, je moet vanavond je heil alleen zoeken”, sprak lord Lister tot zijn
jongen vriend en secretaris.

De beide heeren zaten tegenover elkaar aan den welvoorzienen disch in

de eetkamer der mooie villa in het Willemspark.

Deze kamer was op bijzonder kostbare wijze door den Grooten

Onbekende ingericht. Echte gobelins van bijna onschatbare waarde
bedekten de wanden en het ameublement, dat hij hierheen had laten
overbrengen, was vele eeuwen oud.

Oude James, die deze meubelen reeds in het kasteel van Lord Listers
grootvader had gekend, behandelde elk stuk steeds met de grootste zorg
en soms gleed zijn rimpelige hand niet zonder eenige teederheid langs de
sierlijke lijnen van het breede buffet, over de armleuningen der antieke
stoelen.

Wanneer de oude, getrouwe bediende in deze kamer vertoefde, waar alles

hem herinnerde aan lang vervlogen jaren, zag hij in zijn verbeelding weer
terug dat kleine gezin, waar geluk en vrede hadden geheerscht.

Daar, in dien stoel, met het kunstige snijwerk en de mat-blauwe zijden

bekleeding, had de jonge vrouw gezeten, de echtgenoote van lord Roland
Lister, een der rijkste edellieden van Engeland.

Hoe goed herinnerde James zich nog de slanke gestalte, het fijnbesneden,
beeldschoone gelaat en de groote, donkere oogen der jonge vrouw.

En lord Roland zelf, de eenige erfgenaam van de onmetelijke bezittingen

zijner voorouders! Nog kwam een uitdrukking van trots op het gelaat van
ouden James, als hij terugdacht aan hem, wien hij jarenlang had gediend
met de grootste trouw en verknochtheid.
Lord Roland was het toonbeeld geweest van een waren edelman, zoowel
wat zijn uiterlijk betrof, als waar het zijn karakter gold.

En zijn bekoorlijke jonge vrouw stond hem in alles steeds ter zijde, zij was
niet alleen de gracieuse, beminnelijke gastvrouw, de vertegenwoordigster
van een der oudste adellijke geslachten van het Vereenigde Koninkrijk,
maar vooral was zij een trouwe gade, een liefdevolle, verstandige moeder
geweest voor haar eenigen zoon, den kleinen Edward.

Zooveel mogelijk had zij steeds zelf gezorgd voor de opvoeding van haar
kind. Urenlang had zij elken dag met hem gespeeld, met hem gewandeld
en gestoeid in het prachtige park, dat bij het zomerverblijf der familie
behoorde en later, toen de vlugge, intelligente jongen moest studeeren,
had zijn moeder hem met altijd even onuitputtelijk geduld en teedere liefde
door menig vervelend studieuur heengeholpen.

Het had den jeugdigen Edward met zijn bijzonder helder brein niet de
minste moeite gekost om al zijn examens op schitterende wijze af te
leggen.

Doch toen was plotseling een ommekeer gekomen—toen was het

geweest, alsof het geluk, dat deze drie menschen tot nu toe op hun
levensweg had gevolgd, hun opeens den rug had toegekeerd.

Op een mooien zomerdag—oude James herinnerde het zich, alsof het

gisteren was geweest—was lord Roland dood thuisgebracht. Bij een val
van zijn paard had hij den nek gebroken en zoo was hij plotseling
heengegaan uit het leven, dat zoo mooi en zonnig voor hem was geweest,
zonder een enkel woord van afscheid voor zijn vrouw en kind.

Edward had zijn moeder dapper terzijde gestaan in die dagen van zware
beproeving, maar de jonge vrouw had zich niet kunnen heenzetten over
den dood van hem, dien zij boven alles had liefgehad en twee jaar later
was zij haar echtgenoot gevolgd.

Toen ook haar lijk was bijgezet in het familiegraf der Listers, was Edward
nog geen achttien jaar.
Een neef van zijn vader was benoemd tot zijn voogd [12]en toen de jonge
lord eenige jaren later meerderjarig werd verklaard, bleek het, dat deze
neef, een man van een valsch en oneerlijk karakter, zijn pupil op de meest
schandelijke wijze had bestolen.

Van de groote rijkdommen zijner voorouders was slechts een vrij

onaanzienlijk kapitaal overgebleven, het grootste gedeelte der onroerende
goederen was bezwaard met hypotheek en het bleek lord Edward Lister,
dat op zóó geraffineerde, geslepen manier te werk moest zijn gegaan, dat
het hem misschien nimmer zou gelukken, den schurkachtigen edelman te
ontmaskeren.

Een scherpe, vastberaden trek was in die dagen op het gelaat van den
jongen man verschenen en een zeldzaam besluit was gerijpt in zijn
hersenen.

Hij, die door de slechtheid van anderen zoo schandelijk bedrogen was, hij
wilde zich voortaan tot levensdoel stellen om de misdaden der voorname
schurken te wreken, te wreken op gansch eigenaardige wijze.

Hij wilde de beschermer der ongelukkigen en verdrukten worden, hij zou

den gewetenloozen rijkaards ontnemen, wat zij zich wederrechtelijk
hadden toegeëigend om die schatten daarna terug te geven aan hen, aan
wien ze eenmaal hadden toebehoord.

En hoe schitterend was hij de gelofte, die hij zichzelf toen had gedaan,
nagekomen!

Hoevele misdaden had hij reeds verhinderd, hoevele arme bedrogenen

had hij weer in het bezit gesteld van hun rechtmatige eigendommen, maar
vooral—hoe ontelbaar vele rijke schurken waren door hem gestraft en
ontmaskerd!— —

Oude James wist dit alles en het geheim, dat het leven van zijn jongen
meester omhulde, was hem heiliger dan zijn eigen leven.
Charly Brand, die zich vol ijver bezig hield met het ontleden van een
gebraden kuiken, keek op van zijn bord.

„Wat bedoel je, Edward? Welke plannen heb je dan voor vanavond, dat je
mijn gezelschap zoo goed kunt missen?”

„Niets bijzonders, mijn jongen. Maar ik wil een paar uur naar de Whistclub
gaan en omdat ik weet, hoe weinig jij om dat spel geeft, wilde ik je
voorstellen, je elders te gaan amuseeren.”

„Uitstekend, Edward! Ja, liever dan den ganschen avond aan het
speeltafeltje te zitten, ga ik „Carmen” nog eens horen van de Italiaansche
Opera. Ik hoorde gisteren op het tennisveld van freule Van Spalen, dat de
bezetting bijzonder goed moet zijn.

„Toevallig bood zij mij voor vanavond een plaats aan in haar loge.”

„Die je natuurlijk gretig hebt aangenomen?”

„Welneen, want ik kende jouw plannen niet en je weet wel, dat ik het
gezelschap van mijn vriend en meester boven elk ander prefereer!”

„Ook boven dat van freule Elise van Spalen?” vroeg lord Lister met een
guitigen glimlach.

Charly lachte terug zonder te antwoorden.

Het was waar, het mooie, blonde freuletje, dat zoo meesterlijk tenniste en
op fietstochtjes onvermoeid en altijd even bekoorlijk was, had het licht
ontvlambare hart van den jongen secretaris van bewondering vervuld,
maar dergelijke verliefdheden duurden bij hem slechts korten tijd.

Lord Lister wist dit evengoed als Charly zelf en daarom hadden de beide
vrienden reeds dikwijls hartelijk gelachen om de ontelbare genegenheden,
welke Charly in den loop der jaren voor de vertegenwoordigsters van het
schoone geslacht had opgevat.
Onberispelijk gekleed in zijn avondtoilet, met een rozenknop in het
knoopsgat, nam Charly een uurtje later afscheid van zijn vriend om zich
naar het Paleis voor Volksvlijt te begeven, waar de Italiaansche opera dat
seizoen haar voorstellingen gaf.

Eerst tegen negen uur verliet lord Lister, alias Raffles, de Groote
Onbekende, zijn villa in het Willemspark, welke hij nu reeds geruimen tijd
bewoonde onder den naam van graaf Van Sloten tot Haersveld.

Toen graaf Van Sloten het voorname clublokaal binnentrad, waren hier
reeds vele bezoekers bijeen.

Aan een der met groen laken bekleede speeltafeltjes zaten drie heeren.
Blijkbaar wachtten zij op het verschijnen van een vierden man, die bij het
whistspel als partner van een der medespelenden zou kunnen fungeeren,
want nauwelijks naderde graaf Van Sloten tot Haersveld hun tafeltje, of
bijna eenstemmig klonk het:

„Speelt u mee, graaf? Wij wachten op een vierden man.”

En reeds was de jongste van het drietal opgestaan om voor den laatst
binnengekomene een stoel gereed te zetten.

Met een vriendelijke uitdrukking op het aristocratische gelaat begroette de

graaf zijn clubgenooten. Daarna nam hij op den voor hem bestemden stoel
plaats. [13]

Enige minuten later waren de vier heeren zwijgend verdiept in het

whistspel.

De bejaarde heer, die tegenover graaf Van Sloten tot Haersveld, alias lord
Lister, zat, was een schatrijk grondeigenaar.

Jonkheer Van Breukelen bezat uitgestrekte landerijen en bosschen in

Overijssel en Gelderland. Bekwame rentmeesters beheerden daar zijn
goederen, terwijl hij zelf een groot gedeelte van het jaar in Amsterdam
woonde, waar hij een keurig heerenhuis bezat in het oude stadsgedeelte.