The Begum's Millions. Jules Verne

sir, would you kindly tell me … ?”

      Mr. Sharp rose.

      “Sir Bryah Jowahir Mothooranath,” he said, pronouncing these names with the respect that any Englishman professes for noble titles, “I am happy to have discovered you and to be the first to pay you my respects!”

      “This man is insane,” thought the doctor. “That’s fairly common among ‘death heads.’”

      The solicitor read this diagnosis in his eyes.

      “I am not the least bit crazy,” he calmly replied. “You are, at the present time the only known heir to the title of baronet, presented in 1819 by the governor-general of Bengal to Jean-Jacques Langévol, a naturalized English subject and widower of the Begum Gokool, usufructuary of her wealth and deceased in 1841, leaving only one son, who died an imbecile, without posterity, incapable and intestate, in 1869. Thirty years ago, the estate was some five million pounds sterling. It remained impounded and under guardianship, and nearly all its interest went to increase its capital throughout the life of Jean-Jacques Langévol’s imbecile son. In 1870, the total value of the estate was estimated, in round numbers, at twenty-one million pounds sterling, or five hundred twenty-five million francs. In accordance with an order signed by the Agra tribunal, countersigned by the Delhi court, recognized by the privy council, the property both real and personal was sold, and the total amount realized was placed in deposit at the Bank of England. At present, this amounts to some five hundred twenty-seven million francs, that you can withdraw with a simple check as soon as you have supplied genealogical proof of your identity to the Chancellery. Furthermore, as of today, I am authorized to offer you through the firm of Messrs. Trollop, Smith and Co., bankers, an advance of any amount on this account …”

      Dr. Sarrasin was thunderstruck. For a moment, he remained entirely speechless. Then, feeling a bit guilty about his temporary lapse of critical reasoning and being unable to accept as proven fact this dream straight out of the Thousand and One Nights, he replied:

      “But after all, sir, what proofs can you give me of this story, and what led you to find me here?”

      “The proofs are all here,” replied Mr. Sharp, tapping on his polished leather briefcase. “As for how I found you, it was quite natural. I’ve been trying to locate you for five years. Finding the next of kin for the numerous confiscated estates which are registered annually in the British colonies is a specialty of our firm. We have been working on the inheritance of the Begum Gokool for a full five years. We have carried out our investigations in all directions, reviewed hundreds of Sarrasin families, without finding the one descended from Isidore. I had even arrived at the conclusion that there was not one Sarrasin in France, when I was struck yesterday morning while reading in the Daily News the review of the International Hygiene Association that there was a doctor by this name with whom I was not familiar. Returning immediately to my notes and to the thousands of handwritten filing cards that we have accumulated about this inheritance, I noted with astonishment that the town of Douai had escaped our attention. Almost certain that I was now on the right track, I took the Brighton train and saw you leaving the meeting, and my conviction became stronger. You are the living portrait of your great-uncle Langévol as he appears in a photograph we have of him, from a painting of the Indian artist Saranoni.”

      Mr. Sharp drew a photograph from his notebook and passed it to Dr. Sarrasin. This photograph represented a man of great stature, with a splendid beard, a plumed turban, and a green robe of gold-laced brocade, in that posture so peculiar to historical portraits of a four-star general writing out an order to attack while attentively watching the spectator. In the background, one could vaguely make out the smoke of battle and a charge of cavalry.

      “These papers will tell you more than I can,” continued Mr. Sharp. “I’m going to leave them with you and I shall return in two hours, if you will permit, to take your orders.”

      With these words, Mr. Sharp withdrew from his polished briefcase seven or eight packets of documents, placed them on the table, and retreated out the door, murmuring:

      “Sir Bryah Jowahir Mothooranath, I have the honor of wishing you a very good day.”

      Half believing and half skeptical, the doctor picked up the files and began to leaf through them.

      A quick examination of them was enough to show him that the story was perfectly true and to dispel all his doubts. Indeed, how could one hesitate when reading a document with a title such as:

      “Report to the Very Honorable Lords of the Queen’s Privy Council, filed this fifth day of January 1870, concerning the vacant succession of the Begum Gokool of Ragginahra, Bengal province.

      “Points of fact: at issue are the property rights to certain mehals and forty-three thousand beegales of arable land, along with diverse structures, palaces, buildings, villages, furniture, treasure, arms, etc., etc., accruing from the estate of the Begum Gokool of Ragginahra. From the accounts submitted to the civil court of Agra and to the higher court of Delhi there results that in 1819 the Begum Gokool, widow of the Rajah Luckmissur and heiress in her own right of considerable wealth, married a foreigner of French origin, named Jean-Jacques Langévol. This foreigner, after having served in the French army as drum major in the 36th Light Cavalry until 1815, embarked in Nantes,⁹ at the time of the disbanding of the Loire army, as a cargo master on a commercial ship. He arrived in Calcutta, moved inland, and soon obtained the rank of captain as a military instructor in the small indigenous army that the Rajah Luckmissur was authorized to maintain. He eventually rose to the rank of commander-in-chief, and, shortly after the death of the Rajah, he obtained the hand of his widow. In consideration of various contributions to colonial policy and important services rendered during a perilous situation for Europeans in Agra by Jean-Jacques Langévol, who had become a naturalized British subject, the governor-general of Bengal requested and obtained the title of baronet for the husband of the Begum who also received the land of Bryah Jowahir Mothooranath as his kingdom. The Begum died in 1839, leaving her estate to Langévol, who followed her two years later to the grave. From their marriage there was but one son, who suffered in a state of imbecility since early childhood and whom it was necessary to place under guardians immediately. His estate was faithfully administered until his death in 1869. There are no known heirs to this enormous inheritance. The tribunal of Agra and the court of Delhi having ordered a sale by auction, at the request of the local government acting in the name of the State, we have the honor of requesting of the Lords of the Privy Council for the confirmation of these judgments, etc., etc.” Signatures followed.

      Certified copies of the legal judgments from Agra and from Delhi, certificates of sale, orders given for the deposit of capital in the Bank of England, a historical account of research carried out in France to find the Langévol heirs, and a veritable mass of documents of the same sort no longer permitted Dr. Sarrasin the slightest hesitation. He was the fitting and proper next of kin and successor to the Begum. The thickness of a birth certificate was the only thing between him and the five hundred twenty-seven million francs deposited in the bank’s vault!

      Such a stroke of fortune could well excite the calmest soul, and the good doctor could not entirely escape the emotion that such an unexpected event was sure to cause. However, his excitement was of short duration, and only manifested itself by a rapid pacing up and down his room for several minutes. He then quickly regained possession of himself, reproached himself for the weakness of yielding to such a feverish emotion, and settled himself into an armchair where he remained in deep reflection for some time.¹⁰

      Then, jumping out of his chair, he suddenly started pacing up and down again. But this time his eyes burned with a pure flame, and one could tell that some generous and noble thought was evolving in his mind. He welcomed it, caressed it, held it close, and finally adopted it.

      At that moment, there were knocks on the door. Mr. Sharp was returning.

      “Please excuse my misgivings,” the doctor told him cordially. “But I’m now quite convinced and infinitely obliged to you for the effort you have taken.”

      “Don’t feel obliged … a simple matter … my job … ,” responded Mr. Sharp. “May I hope that Sir Bryah