The Sorceress of the Strand

The Sorceress of the Strand
by L.T. Meade and Robert Eustace

I.
Madame Sara
EVERYONE in trade and a good many who are not have heard of
Werner's Agency, the Solvency Inquiry Agency for all British trade. Its
business is to know the financial condition of all wholesale and retail
firms, from Rothschild's to the smallest sweetstuff shop in Whitechapel.
I do not say that every firm figures on its books, but by methods of
secret inquiry it can discover the status of any firm or individual. It is
the great safeguard to British trade and prevents much fraudulent
dealing
Of this agency I, Dixon Druce, was appointed manager in 1890. Since
then I have met queer people and seen strange sights, for men do
curious things for money in this world.
It so happened that in June, 1899, my business took me to Madeira on
an inquiry of some importance. I left the island on the 14th of the
month by the Norham Castle for Southampton. I embarked after dinner.
It was a lovely night, and the strains of the band in the public gardens
of Funchal came floating across the star-powdered bay through the
warm, balmy air. Then the engine bells rang to "Full speed ahead", and,
flinging a farewell to the fairest island on earth, I turned to the
smoking-room in order to light my cheroot.
"Do you want a match, sir?"
The voice came from a slender, young-looking man who stood near the
taffrail. Before I could reply he had struck one and held it out to me.

"Excuse me," he said, as he tossed it overboard, "but surely I am
addressing Mr. Dixon Druce?"
"You are, sir," I said, glancing keenly back at him, "but you have the
advantage of me."
"Don"t you know me?" he responded, "Jack Selby, Hayward's House,
Harrow, 1879."
"By Jove! so it is," I cried.
Our hands met in a warm clasp, and a moment later I found myself
sitting close to my old friend, who had fagged for me in the bygone
days, and whom I had not seen from the moment when I said goodbye
to the "Hill" in the grey mist of a December morning twenty years ago.
He was a boy of fourteen then, but nevertheless I recognized him. His
face was bronzed and good-looking, his features refined. As a boy
Selby had been noted for his grace, his well-shaped head, his clean-cut
features; these characteristics still were his, and although he was now
slightly past his first youth he was decidedly handsome. He gave me a
quick sketch of his history.
"My father left me plenty of money," he said, "and The Meadows, our
old family place, is now mine. I have a taste for natural history; that
taste took me two years ago to South America. I have had my share of
strange adventures, and have collected valuable specimens and trophies.
I am now on my way home from Para, on the Amazon, having come by
a Booth boat to Madeira and changed there to the Castle Line. But why
all this talk about myself?" he added, bringing his deck chair a little
nearer to mine. "What about your history, old chap? Are you settled
down with a wife and kiddies of your own, or is that dream of your
school days fulfilled, and are you the owner of the best private
laboratory in London?"
"As to the laboratory," I said, with a smile, "you must come and see it.
For the rest I am unmarried. Are you?"
"I was married the day before I left Para, and my wife is on board with

me."
"Capital," I answered. "Let me hear all about it."
"You shall. Her maiden name was Dallas; Beatrice Dallas. She is just
twenty now. Her father was an Englishman and her mother a Spaniard;
neither parent is living. She has an elder sister, Edith, nearly thirty
years of age, unmarried, who is on board with us. There is also a
step-brother, considerably older than either Edith or Beatrice. I met my
wife last year in Para, and at once fell in love. I am the happiest man on
earth. It goes without saying that I think her beautiful, and she is also
very well off. The story of her wealth is a curious one. Her uncle on the
mother's side was an extremely wealthy Spaniard, who made an
enormous fortune in Brazil out of diamonds and minerals; he owned
several mines. But it is supposed that his wealth turned his brain. At
any rate, it seems to have done so as far as the disposal of his money
went. He divided the yearly profits and interest between his nephew
and his two nieces, but declared that the property itself should never