# Doctor Nikola (Windsor Magazine, 1896)/Introduction

Extracted from Windsor Magazine, Vol.3 1896 January, pp. 1-2. Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood and Louis Wain

### INTRODUCTION.

My dear William George Craigie,
I have do doubt at all as to your surprise, on receiving this letter, after so long and unjustifiable a period of silence, from one whom you must have come to consider either a dead man or at least a permanent refugee. When last we met it was on the deck of Tremorden's yacht, in the harbour of Honolulu, I had been down to Kanai I remember, and the day following you, you lucky dog, were going off to England by the royal mail to be married to the girl of your heart. Since then I have heard quite by chance, that you have settled down to a country life, as if to the manner born; that you take an absorbing interest in mangel-wurzels, and, while you strike terror into the hearts of poachers and other rustic evil-doers, have the reputation of making your wife the very best of husbands. Consequently you arc to be envied and considered by such awful barbarians as myself the happiest of men.
While, however, things have been moving thus prosperously with you I am afraid I cannot truthfully say that they have behaved so well for me. At the termination of our pleasant South Sea cruise, just referred to, when our party dismembered itself in the Sandwich Islands, I crossed to Sydney, passed up inside the Barrier Reef to Cooktown where I remained three mouths in order to try my luck up on the Palmer Gold Fields. This proving unsatisfactory I returned to the coast and continued my journey north to Thursday Island. From the last-named little spot I visited New Guinea, gave it my patronage for the better part of six months, and received in return a bad attack of fever after recovering from which I migrated to Borneo, to finally bring up as you will suppose, in my beloved China.
Do you remember how in the old days, when we both held positions of more or less importance in Hong-Kong, you used to rally me about my fondness for the Celestial character and my absurd liking for going fantee into the queerest company and places? How little did I imagine then to what straits that craze would ultimately conduct me! But we never know what the future has in store for us, do we? And perhaps it is just well.
You will observe, my dear Craigie, that it is the record of my visit to China on this particular occasion that constitutes this book; and you must also understand that it is because of our long friendship for each other, and by reason of our queer researches into the occult world together, in the old days, that you find your name placed so conspicuously up on the forefront of it.
A word now as to my present existence and abode. My location I cannot reveal even to you. And believe me I make this reservation for the strongest reasons. Suffice it that I boast a little farm of close upon five thousand acres, in a country such as would gladden your heart, if matrimony and continued well-being have not spoilt your eves for richness of soil, it is shut in on all sides by precipitous mountain ranges, on the western peaks of which at this moment, as I sit in my veranda writing to you, a quantity of cloud, tinted a rose pink by the setting sun is gathering. A quieter spot, and one more remote from the rush and bustle of civilisation, it would be difficult to find. Once every six months my stores are brought up to me on mule-back by a trusted retainer who has never spoken a word of English in his life, and once every six weeks I send to, and receive from, my post office, four hundred miles distant my mails. In the intervals I imitate the patriarchal life and character; that is to say I hoe and reap my corn, live in harmony with my neighbour, who is two hundred odd miles away, and, figuratively speaking, enjoy life beneath my own vine and fig-tree
Perhaps when the cool west wind blows in the long grass, the wild duck whistle upon the lagoons, or a newspaper filled with gossip of the outer world finds its way in to me, I am a little restless, but at other times I can safely say I have few regrets. I have done with the world, and to make my exile easier I have been permitted that greatest of all blessings, a good wife. Who she is and how I won her you will discover when you have perused this narrative, the compiling of which has been my principal and I might almost say, my only recreation all through our more than tedious winter. But now sprint is upon us, clad in its mantle of luscious grass and accompanied by the twitterings of birds and the music of innumerable small waterfalls, and I am a new man. The snow has departed, the swallows are working overtime beneath the eaves, and to-morrow this
Whether I shall ever again see Dr. Nikola, the principal character in it, is more than I can tell you. But I sincerely trust not. It is for the sake of circumstances brought about by that extraordinary man that I have doomed myself to perpetual exile; still I have no desire that he should know of my sacrifice. Sometimes lying awake in the quiet watches of the night I can hardly believe that the events of the last two years are real. The horror of that time still presses heavily upon me, and if I live to be a hundred I doubt if I shall outgrow it. When I tell you that even the things, I mean the mysteries and weird experiences, into which we thrust our impertinent noses in bygone days were absolutely as nothing compared with those I have passed through since in Nikola's company, you will at first feel inclined to believe that I am romancing. But I know this that by the time you have got my curious story by heart all doubt on that score will have been swept away.
One last entreaty. Having read this book do not attempt to find me, or to set my position right with the world. Take my word for it, it is better as it is.
And now, without farther preamble, let us come to the story itself. God bless you and give you every happiness. Speak kindly of me to your wife, and believe me until death, if there is such a thing,
Your affectionate friend, Wilfred Bruce