Overview

My name is Seymour Wilbraham Wentworth. I am brother-in-law and secretary to Sir CharlesVandrift, the South African millionaire and famous financier. Many years ago, when Charlie Vandriftwas a small lawyer in Cape Town, I had the (qualified) good fortune to marry his sister. Much later, when the Vandrift estate and farm near Kimberley developed by degrees into the CloetedorpGolcondas, Limited, my brother-in-law offered me the not unremunerative post of secretary; inwhich capacity I have ever since been his constant and attached companion.He is not a man whom any common sharper can take in, is Charles Vandrift. Middle height, square build, firm mouth, keen eyes-the very picture of a sharp and successful business genius. Ihave only known one rogue impose upon Sir Charles, and that one rogue, as the Commissary ofPolice at Nice remarked, would doubtless have imposed upon a syndicate of Vidocq, RobertHoudin, and Cagliostro.We had run across to the Riviera for a few weeks in the season. Our object being strictly restand recreation from the arduous duties of financial combination, we did not think it necessary totake our wives out with us. Indeed, Lady Vandrift is absolutely wedded to the joys of London, anddoes not appreciate the rural delights of the Mediterranean littoral. But Sir Charles and I, thoughimmersed in affairs when at home, both thoroughly enjoy the complete change from the City to thecharming vegetation and pellucid air on the terrace at Monte Carlo. We are so fond of scenery. Thatdelicious view over the rocks of Monaco, with the Maritime Alps in the rear, and the blue sea infront, not to mention the imposing Casino in the foreground, appeals to me as one of the mostbeautiful prospects in all Europe. Sir Charles has a sentimental attachment for the place. He finds itrestores and freshens him, after the turmoil of London, to win a few hundreds at roulette in thecourse of an afternoon among the palms and cactuses and pure breezes of Monte Carlo. Thecountry, say I, for a jaded intellect! However, we never on any account actually stop in thePrincipality itself. Sir Charles thinks Monte Carlo is not a sound address for a financier's letters. Heprefers a comfortable hotel on the Promenade des Anglais at Nice, where he recovers health andrenovates his nervous system by taking daily excursions along the coast to the Casino.This particular season we were snugly ensconced at the Hotel des Anglais. We had capitalquarters on the first floor-salon, study, and bedrooms-and found on the spot a most agreeablecosmopolitan society. All Nice, just then, was ringing with talk about a curious impostor, known tohis followers as the Great Mexican Seer, and supposed to be gifted with second sight, as well as withendless other supernatural powers. Now, it is a peculiarity of my able brother-in-law's that, when hemeets with a quack, he burns to expose him; he is so keen a man of business himself that it giveshim, so to speak, a disinterested pleasure to unmask and detect imposture in others. Many ladies atthe hotel, some of whom had met and conversed with the Mexican Seer, were constantly telling usstrange stories of his doings. He had disclosed to one the present whereabouts of a runawayhusband; he had pointed out to another the numbers that would win at roulette next evening; he hadshown a third the image on a screen of the man she had for years adored without his knowledge.

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