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diff --git a/8668-8.txt b/8668-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..608657e --- /dev/null +++ b/8668-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9716 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Revenge!, by Robert Barr + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Revenge! + +Author: by Robert Barr + +Release Date: November 20, 2004 [eBook #8668] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REVENGE!*** + + + + +E-text prepared by Lee Dawei, David Moynihan, Michelle Shephard, Charles +Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +REVENGE! + +BY + +ROBERT BARR + + + + + + + +TO + +JAMES SAMSON, M.D. + + +[Illustration: "I HAD THE SAFE BLOWN OPEN"] + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +AN ALPINE DIVORCE +WHICH WAS THE MURDERER? +A DYNAMITE EXPLOSION +AN ELECTRICAL SLIP +THE VENGEANCE OF THE DEAD +OVER THE STELVIO PASS +THE HOUR AND THE MAN +"AND THE RIGOUR OF THE GAME" +THE BROMLEY GIBBERTS STORY +NOT ACCORDING TO THE CODE +A MODERN SAMSON +A DEAL ON 'CHANGE +TRANSFORMATION +THE SHADOW OF THE GREENBACK +THE UNDERSTUDY +"OUT OF THUN" +A DRAMATIC POINT +TWO FLORENTINE BALCONIES +THE EXPOSURE OF LORD STANSFORD +PURIFICATION + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + +"I HAD THE SAFE BLOWN OPEN" +THE CORD DANGLED ABOUT A FOOT ABOVE THE POLICEMAN'S HEAD +DUPRÉ LAUNCHED HIS BOMB OUT INTO THE NIGHT +"DO NOT PROCEED FURTHER WITH EXECUTION" +HIS FIRST ACT WAS TO DISCHARGE EVERY SERVANT +"WHEN YOU PRESS THE IVORY BUTTON, I FIRE" +WIPING ITS BLADE ON THE CLOTHES OF THE PROSTRATE MAN +"I WILL DRAW A PLAN" +HE THREW ASIDE BUSHES, BRAMBLES AND LOGS +"WHAT HAS HAPPENED?" +SAM LOOKED SAVAGELY AROUND HIM +"MY GOD, YOU WERE RIGHT AFTER ALL!" + + + + +REVENGE! + +AN ALPINE DIVORCE. + + +In some natures there are no half-tones; nothing but raw primary +colours. John Bodman was a man who was always at one extreme or the +other. This probably would have mattered little had he not married a +wife whose nature was an exact duplicate of his own. + +Doubtless there exists in this world precisely the right woman for any +given man to marry and _vice versâ_; but when you consider that a +human being has the opportunity of being acquainted with only a few +hundred people, and out of the few hundred that there are but a dozen +or less whom he knows intimately, and out of the dozen, one or two +friends at most, it will easily be seen, when we remember the number of +millions who inhabit this world, that probably, since the earth was +created, the right man has never yet met the right woman. The +mathematical chances are all against such a meeting, and this is the +reason that divorce courts exist. Marriage at best is but a compromise, +and if two people happen to be united who are of an uncompromising +nature there is trouble. + +In the lives of these two young people there was no middle distance. +The result was bound to be either love or hate, and in the case of Mr. +and Mrs. Bodman it was hate of the most bitter and arrogant kind. + +In some parts of the world incompatibility of temper is considered a +just cause for obtaining a divorce, but in England no such subtle +distinction is made, and so until the wife became criminal, or the man +became both criminal and cruel, these two were linked together by a +bond that only death could sever. Nothing can be worse than this state +of things, and the matter was only made the more hopeless by the fact +that Mrs. Bodman lived a blameless life, and her husband was no worse, +but rather better, than the majority of men. Perhaps, however, that +statement held only up to a certain point, for John Bodman had reached +a state of mind in which he resolved to get rid of his wife at all +hazards. If he had been a poor man he would probably have deserted her, +but he was rich, and a man cannot freely leave a prospering business +because his domestic life happens not to be happy. + +When a man's mind dwells too much on any one subject, no one can tell +just how far he will go. The mind is a delicate instrument, and even +the law recognises that it is easily thrown from its balance. Bodman's +friends--for he had friends--claim that his mind was unhinged; but +neither his friends nor his enemies suspected the truth of the episode, +which turned out to be the most important, as it was the most ominous, +event in his life. + +Whether John Bodman was sane or insane at the time he made up his mind +to murder his wife, will never be known, but there was certainly +craftiness in the method he devised to make the crime appear the result +of an accident. Nevertheless, cunning is often a quality in a mind that +has gone wrong. + +Mrs. Bodman well knew how much her presence afflicted her husband, but +her nature was as relentless as his, and her hatred of him was, if +possible, more bitter than his hatred of her. Wherever he went she +accompanied him, and perhaps the idea of murder would never have +occurred to him if she had not been so persistent in forcing her +presence upon him at all times and on all occasions. So, when he +announced to her that he intended to spend the month of July in +Switzerland, she said nothing, but made her preparations for the +journey. On this occasion he did not protest, as was usual with him, +and so to Switzerland this silent couple departed. + +There is an hotel near the mountain-tops which stands on a ledge over +one of the great glaciers. It is a mile and a half above the level of +the sea, and it stands alone, reached by a toilsome road that zigzags +up the mountain for six miles. There is a wonderful view of snow-peaks +and glaciers from the verandahs of this hotel, and in the neighbourhood +are many picturesque walks to points more or less dangerous. + +John Bodman knew the hotel well, and in happier days he had been +intimately acquainted with the vicinity. Now that the thought of murder +arose in his mind, a certain spot two miles distant from this inn +continually haunted him. It was a point of view overlooking everything, +and its extremity was protected by a low and crumbling wall. He arose +one morning at four o'clock, slipped unnoticed out of the hotel, and +went to this point, which was locally named the Hanging Outlook. His +memory had served him well. It was exactly the spot, he said to +himself. The mountain which rose up behind it was wild and precipitous. +There were no inhabitants near to overlook the place. The distant hotel +was hidden by a shoulder of rock. The mountains on the other side of +the valley were too far away to make it possible for any casual tourist +or native to see what was going on on the Hanging Outlook. Far down in +the valley the only town in view seemed like a collection of little toy +houses. + +One glance over the crumbling wall at the edge was generally sufficient +for a visitor of even the strongest nerves. There was a sheer drop of +more than a mile straight down, and at the distant bottom were jagged +rocks and stunted trees that looked, in the blue haze, like shrubbery. + +"This is the spot," said the man to himself, "and to-morrow morning is +the time." + +John Bodman had planned his crime as grimly and relentlessly, and as +coolly, as ever he had concocted a deal on the Stock Exchange. There +was no thought in his mind of mercy for his unconscious victim. His +hatred had carried him far. + +The next morning after breakfast, he said to his wife: "I intend to +take a walk in the mountains. Do you wish to come with me?" + +"Yes," she answered briefly. + +"Very well, then," he said; "I shall be ready at nine o'clock." + +"I shall be ready at nine o'clock," she repeated after him. + +At that hour they left the hotel together, to which he was shortly to +return alone. The spoke no word to each other on their way to the +Hanging Outlook. The path was practically level, skirting the +mountains, for the Hanging Outlook was not much higher above the sea +than the hotel. + +John Bodman had formed no fixed plan for his procedure when the place +was reached. He resolved to be guided by circumstances. Now and then a +strange fear arose in his mind that she might cling to him and possibly +drag him over the precipice with her. He found himself wondering +whether she had any premonition of her fate, and one of his reasons for +not speaking was the fear that a tremor in his voice might possibly +arouse her suspicions. He resolved that his action should be sharp and +sudden, that she might have no chance either to help herself or to drag +him with her. Of her screams in that desolate region he had no fear. No +one could reach the spot except from the hotel, and no one that morning +had left the house, even for an expedition to the glacier--one of the +easiest and most popular trips from the place. + +Curiously enough, when they came within sight of the Hanging Outlook, +Mrs. Bodman stopped and shuddered. Bodman looked at her through the +narrow slits of his veiled eyes, and wondered again if she had any +suspicion. No one can tell, when two people walk closely together, what +unconscious communication one mind may have with another. + +"What is the matter?" he asked gruffly. "Are you tired?" + +"John," she cried, with a gasp in her voice, calling him by his +Christian name for the first time in years, "don't you think that if +you had been kinder to me at first, things might have been different?" + +"It seems to me," he answered, not looking at her, "that it is rather +late in the day for discussing that question." + +"I have much to regret," she said quaveringly. "Have you nothing?" + +"No," he answered. + +"Very well," replied his wife, with the usual hardness returning to her +voice. "I was merely giving you a chance. Remember that." + +Her husband looked at her suspiciously. + +"What do you mean?" he asked, "giving me a chance? I want no chance nor +anything else from you. A man accepts nothing from one he hates. My +feeling towards you is, I imagine, no secret to you. We are tied +together, and you have done your best to make the bondage +insupportable." + +"Yes," she answered, with her eyes on the ground, "we are tied +together--we are tied together!" + +She repeated these words under her breath as they walked the few +remaining steps to the Outlook. Bodman sat down upon the crumbling +wall. The woman dropped her alpenstock on the rock, and walked +nervously to and fro, clasping and unclasping her hands. Her husband +caught his breath as the terrible moment drew near. + +"Why do you walk about like a wild animal?" he cried. "Come here and +sit down beside me, and be still." + +She faced him with a light he had never before seen in her eyes--a +light of insanity and of hatred. + +"I walk like a wild animal," she said, "because I am one. You spoke a +moment ago of your hatred of me; but you are a man, and your hatred is +nothing to mine. Bad as you are, much as you wish to break the bond +which ties us together, there are still things which I know you would +not stoop to. I know there is no thought of murder in your heart, but +there is in mine. I will show you, John Bodman, how much I hate you." + +The man nervously clutched the stone beside him, and gave a guilty +start as she mentioned murder. + +"Yes," she continued, "I have told all my friends in England that I +believed you intended to murder me in Switzerland." + +"Good God!" he cried. "How could you say such a thing?" + +"I say it to show how much I hate you--how much I am prepared to give +for revenge. I have warned the people at the hotel, and when we left +two men followed us. The proprietor tried to persuade me not to +accompany you. In a few moments those two men will come in sight of the +Outlook. Tell them, if you think they will believe you, that it was an +accident." + +The mad woman tore from the front of her dress shreds of lace and +scattered them around. Bodman started up to his feet, crying, "What are +you about?" But before he could move toward her she precipitated +herself over the wall, and went shrieking and whirling down the awful +abyss. + +The next moment two men came hurriedly round the edge of the rock, and +found the man standing alone. Even in his bewilderment he realised that +if he told the truth he would not be believed. + + + + +WHICH WAS THE MURDERER? + + +Mrs. John Forder had no premonition of evil. When she heard the hall +clock strike nine she was blithely singing about the house as she +attended to her morning duties, and she little imagined that she was +entering the darkest hour of her life, and that before the clock struck +again overwhelming disaster would have fallen upon her. Her young +husband was working in the garden, as was his habit each morning before +going to his office. She expected him in every moment to make ready for +his departure down town. She heard the click of the front gate, and a +moment later some angry words. Alarmed, she was about to look through +the parted curtains of the bay-window in front when the sharp crack of +a revolver rang out, and she hastened to the door with a vague sinking +fear at her heart. As she flung open the door she saw two things-- +first, her husband lying face downwards on the grass motionless, his +right arm doubled under him; second, a man trying frantically to undo +the fastening of the front gate, with a smoking pistol still in his +hand. + +Human lives often hang on trivialities. The murderer in his anxiety to +be undisturbed had closed the front gate tightly. The wall was so high +as to shut out observation from the street, but the height that made it +difficult for an outsider to see over it also rendered escape +impossible. If the man had left the gate open he might have got away +unnoticed, but, as it was, Mrs. Forder's screams aroused the +neighbourhood, and before the murderer succeeded in undoing the +fastening, a crowd had collected with a policeman in its centre, and +escape was out of the question. Only one shot had been fired, but at +such close quarters that the bullet went through the body. John Forder +was not dead, but lay on the grass insensible. He was carried into the +house and the family physician summoned. The doctor sent for a +specialist to assist him, and the two men consulted together. To the +distracted woman they were able to give small comfort. The case at best +was a doubtful one. There was some hope of ultimate recovery, but very +little. + +Meanwhile the murderer lay in custody, his own fate depending much on +the fate of his victim. If Forder died, bail would be refused; if he +showed signs of recovering, his assailant had a chance for, at least, +temporary liberty. No one in the city, unless it were the wife herself, +was more anxious for Forder's recovery than the man who had shot him. + +The crime had its origin in a miserable political quarrel--mere wrangle +about offices. Walter Radnor, the assassin, had 'claims' upon an +office, and, rightly or wrongly, he attributed his defeat to the secret +machinations of John Forder. He doubtless did not intend to murder his +enemy that morning when he left home, but heated words had speedily +followed the meeting, and the revolver was handy in his hip pocket. + +Radnor had a strong, political backing, and, even after he stretched +his victim on the grass, he had not expected to be so completely +deserted when the news spread through the city. Life was not then so +well protected as it has since become, and many a man who walked the +streets free had, before that time, shot his victim. But in this case +the code of assassination had been violated. Radnor had shot down an +unarmed man in his own front garden and almost in sight of his wife. He +gave his victim no chance. If Forder had had even an unloaded revolver +in any of his pockets, things would not have looked so black for +Radnor, because his friends could have held that he had fired in self- +defence, as they would doubtless claim that the dying man had been the +first to show a weapon. So Radnor, in the city prison, found that even +the papers of his own political party were against him, and that the +town was horrified at what it considered a cold-blooded crime. + +As time went on Radnor and his few friends began once more to hope. +Forder still lingered between life and death. That he would ultimately +die from his wound was regarded as certain, but the law required that a +man should die within a stated time after the assault had been +committed upon him, otherwise the assailant could not be tried for +murder. The limit provided by the law was almost reached and Forder +still lived. Time also worked in Radnor's favour in another direction. +The sharp indignation that had followed the crime had become dulled. +Other startling events occurred which usurped the place held by the +Forder tragedy, and Radnor's friends received more and more +encouragement. + +Mrs. Forder nursed her husband assiduously, hoping against hope. They +had been married less than a year, and their love for each other had +increased as time went on. Her devotion to her husband had now become +almost fanatical, and the physicians were afraid to tell her how +utterly hopeless the case was, fearing that if the truth became known +to her, she would break down both mentally and physically. Her hatred +of the man who had wrought this misery was so deep and intense that +once when she spoke of him to her brother, who was a leading lawyer in +the place, he saw, with grave apprehension, the light of insanity in +her eyes. Fearful for a breakdown in health, the physicians insisted +that she should walk for a certain time each day, and as she refused to +go outside of the gate, she took her lonely promenade up and down a +long path in the deserted garden. One day she heard a conversation on +the other side of the wall that startled her. + +"That is the house," said a voice, "where Forder lives, who was shot by +Walter Radnor. The murder took place just behind this wall." + +"Did it really?" queried a second voice. "I suppose Radnor is rather an +anxious man this week." + +"Oh," said the first, "he has doubtless been anxious enough all along." + +"True. But still if Forder lives the week out, Radnor will escape the +gallows. If Forder were to die this week it would be rather rough on +his murderer, for his case would come up before Judge Brent, who is +known all over the State as a hanging judge. He has no patience with +crimes growing out of politics, and he is certain to charge dead +against Radnor, and carry the jury with him. I tell you that the man in +jail will be the most joyous person in this city on Sunday morning if +Forder is still alive, and I understand his friends have bail ready, +and that he will be out of jail first thing Monday morning." + +The two unseen persons, having now satisfied their curiosity by their +scrutiny of the house, passed on and left Mrs. Forder standing looking +into space, with her nervous hands clasped tightly together. + +Coming to herself she walked quickly to the house and sent a messenger +for her brother. He found her pacing up and down the room. + +"How is John to-day?" he said. + +"Still the same, still the same," was the answer. "It seems to me he is +getting weaker and weaker. He does not recognise me any more." + +"What do the doctors say?" + +"Oh, how can I tell you? I don't suppose they speak the truth to me, +but when they come again I shall insist upon knowing just what they +think. But tell me this: is it true that if John lives through the week +his murderer will escape?" + +"How do you mean, escape?" + +"Is it the law of the State that if my husband lives till the end of +this week, the man who shot him will not be tried for murder?" + +"He will not be tried for murder," said the lawyer, "but he may not be +tried for murder even if John were to die now. His friends will +doubtless try to make it out a case of manslaughter as it is; or +perhaps they will try to get him off on the ground of self-defence. +Still, I don't think they would have much of a chance, especially as +his case will come before Judge Brent; but if John lives past twelve +o'clock on Saturday night, it is the law of the State that Radnor +cannot be tried for murder. Then, at most, he will get a term of years +in a state prison, but that will not bother him to any great extent. He +has a strong political backing, and if his party wins the next state +election, which seems likely, the governor will doubtless pardon him +out before a year is over." + +"Is it possible," cried the wife, "that such an enormous miscarriage of +justice can take place in a State that pretends to be civilised?" + +The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. "I don't bank much on our +civilisation," he said. "Such things occur every year, and many times a +year." + +The wife walked up and down the room, while her brother tried to calm +and soothe her. + +"It is terrible--it is awful!" she cried, "that such a dastardly crime +may go unavenged!" + +"My dear sister," said the lawyer, "do not let your mind dwell so much +on vengeance. Remember that whatever happens to the villain who caused +all this misery, it can neither help nor injure your husband." + +"Revenge!" cried the woman, suddenly turning upon her brother; "I swear +before God that if that man escapes, I will kill him with my own hand!" + +The lawyer was too wise to say anything to his sister in her present +frame of mind, and after doing what he could to comfort her he +departed. + +On Saturday morning Mrs. Forder confronted the physicians. + +"I want to know," she said, "and I want to know definitely, whether +there is the slightest chance of my husband's recovery or not. This +suspense is slowly killing me, and I must know the truth, and I must +know it now." + +The physicians looked one at the other. "I think," said the elder, +"that it is useless to keep you longer in suspense. There is not the +slightest hope of your husband's recovery. He may live for a week or +for a month perhaps, or he may die at any moment." + +"I thank you, gentlemen," said Mrs. Forder, with a calmness that +astonished the two men, who knew the state of excitement she had +laboured under for a long time past. "I thank you. I think it is better +that I should know." + +All the afternoon she sat by the bedside of her insensible and scarcely +breathing husband. His face was wasted to a shadow from his long +contest with death. The nurse begged permission to leave the room for a +few minutes, and the wife, who had been waiting for this, silently +assented. When the woman had gone, Mrs. Forder, with tears streaming +from her eyes, kissed her husband. + +"John," she whispered, "you know and you will understand." She pressed +his face to her bosom, and when his head fell back on the pillow her +husband was smothered. + +Mrs. Forder called for the nurse and sent for the doctors, but that +which had happened was only what they had all expected. + + * * * * * + +To a man in the city jail the news of Forder's death brought a wild +thrill of fear. The terrible and deadly charge of Judge Brent against +the murderer doomed the victim, as every listener in the courthouse +realised as soon as it was finished. The jury were absent but ten +minutes, and the hanging of Walter Radnor did more perhaps than +anything that ever happened in the State to make life within that +commonwealth more secure than it had been before. + + + + +A DYNAMITE EXPLOSION + + +Dupré sat at one of the round tables in the Café Vernon, with a glass +of absinthe before him, which he sipped every now and again. He looked +through the open door, out to the Boulevard, and saw passing back and +forth with the regularity of a pendulum, a uniformed policeman. Dupré +laughed silently as he noticed this evidence of law and order. The Café +Vernon was under the protection of the Government. The class to which +Dupré belonged had sworn that it would blow the café into the next +world, therefore the military-looking policeman walked to and fro on +the pavement to prevent this being done, so that all honest citizens +might see that the Government protects its own. People were arrested +now and then for lingering around the café: they were innocent, of +course, and by-and-by the Government found that out and let them go. +The real criminal seldom acts suspiciously. Most of the arrested +persons were merely attracted by curiosity. "There," said one to +another, "the notorious Hertzog was arrested." + +The real criminal goes quietly into the café, and orders his absinthe, +as Dupré had done. And the policeman marches up and down keeping an eye +on the guiltless. So runs the world. + +There were few customers in the café, for people feared the vengeance +of Hertzog's friends. They expected some fine day that the café would +be blown to atoms, and they preferred to be taking their coffee and +cognac somewhere else when that time came. It was evident that M. +Sonne, the proprietor of the café, had done a poor stroke of business +for himself when he gave information to the police regarding the +whereabouts of Hertzog, notwithstanding the fact that his café became +suddenly the most noted one in the city, and that it now enjoyed the +protection of the Government. + +Dupré seldom looked at the proprietor, who sat at the desk, nor at the +waiter, who had helped the week before to overpower Hertzog. He seemed +more intent on watching the minion of the law who paced back and forth +in front of the door, although he once glanced at the other minion who +sat almost out of sight at the back of the café, scrutinising all who +came in, especially those who had parcels of any kind. The café was +well guarded, and M. Sonne, at the desk, appeared to be satisfied with +the protection he was receiving. + +When customers did come in they seldom sat at the round metal tables, +but went direct to the zinc-covered bar, ordered their fluid and drank +it standing, seeming in a hurry to get away. They nodded to M. Sonne +and were evidently old frequenters of the café who did not wish him to +think they had deserted him in this crisis, nevertheless they all had +engagements that made prompt departure necessary. Dupré smiled grimly +when he noticed this. He was the only man sitting at a table. He had no +fears of being blown up. He knew that his comrades were more given to +big talk than to action. He had not attended the last meeting, for he +more than suspected the police had agents among them; besides, his +friend and leader, Hertzog, had never attended meetings. That was why +the police had had such difficulty in finding him. Hertzog had been a +man of deeds not words. He had said to Dupré once, that a single +determined man who kept his mouth shut, could do more against society +than all the secret associations ever formed, and his own lurid career +had proved the truth of this. But now he was in prison, and it was the +treachery of M. Sonne that had sent him there. As he thought of this, +Dupré cast a glance at the proprietor and gritted his teeth. + +The policeman at the back of the hall, feeling lonely perhaps, walked +to the door and nodded to his parading comrade. The other paused for a +moment on his beat, and they spoke to each other. As the policeman +returned to his place, Dupré said to him-- + +"Have a sip with me." + +"Not while on duty," replied the officer with a wink. + +"_Garçon_," said Dupré quietly, "bring me a caraffe of brandy. +_Fin champagne_." + +The _garçon_ placed the little marked decanter on the table with +two glasses. Dupré filled them both. The policeman, with a rapid glance +over his shoulder, tossed one off, and smacked his lips. Dupré slowly +sipped the other while he asked-- + +"Do you anticipate any trouble here?" + +"Not in the least," answered the officer confidently. "Talk, that's +all." + +"I thought so," said Dupré. + +"They had a meeting the other night--a secret meeting;" the policeman +smiled a little as he said this. "They talked a good deal. They are +going to do wonderful things. A man was detailed to carry out this +job." + +"And have you arrested him?" questioned Dupré. + +"Oh dear, no. We watch him merely. He is the most frightened man in the +city to-night. We expect him to come and tell us all about it, but we +hope he won't. We know more about it than he does." + +"I dare say; still it must have hurt M. Sonne's business a good deal." + +"It has killed it for the present. People are such cowards. But the +Government will make it all right with him out of the secret fund. He +won't lose anything." + +"Does he own the whole house, or only the café?" + +"The whole house. He lets the upper rooms, but nearly all the tenants +have left. Yet I call it the safest place in the city. They are all +poltroons, the dynamiters, and they are certain to strike at some place +not so well guarded. They are all well known to us, and the moment one +is caught prowling about here he will be arrested. They are too +cowardly to risk their liberty by coming near this place. It's a +different thing from leaving a tin can and fuse in some dark corner +when nobody is looking. Any fool can do that." + +"Then you think this would be a good time to take a room here? I am +looking for one in this neighbourhood," said Dupré. + +"You couldn't do better than arrange with M. Sonne. You could make a +good bargain with him now, and you would be perfectly safe." + +"I am glad that you mentioned it; I will speak to M. Sonne to-night, +and see the rooms to-morrow. Have another sip of brandy?" + +"No, thank you, I must be getting back to my place. Just tell M. Sonne, +if you take a room, that I spoke to you about it." + +"I will. Good-night." + +Dupré paid his bill and tipped the _garçon_ liberally. The +proprietor was glad to hear of any one wanting rooms. It showed the +tide was turning, and an appointment was made for next day. + +Dupré kept his appointment, and the _concierge_ showed him over +the house. The back rooms were too dark, the windows being but a few +feet from the opposite wall. The lower front rooms were too noisy. +Dupré said that he liked quiet, being a student. A front room on the +third floor, however, pleased him, and he took it. He well knew the +necessity of being on good terms with the _concierge_, who would +spy on him anyhow, so he paid just a trifle more than requisite to that +functionary, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Too much is as bad as +too little, a fact that Dupré was well aware of. + +He had taken pains to see that his window was directly over the front +door of the café, but now that he was alone and the door locked, he +scrutinised the position more closely. There was an awning over the +front of the café that shut off his view of the pavement and the +policeman marching below. That complicated matters. Still he remembered +that when the sun went down the awning was rolled up. His first idea +when he took the room was to drop the dynamite from the third story +window to the pavement below, but the more he thought of that plan the +less he liked it. It was the sort of thing any fool could do, as the +policeman had said. It would take some thinking over. Besides, dynamite +dropped on the pavement would, at most, but blow in the front of the +shop, kill the perambulating policeman perhaps, or some innocent +passer-by, but it would not hurt old Sonne nor yet the _garçon_ +who had made himself so active in arresting Hertzog. + +Dupré was a methodical man. He spoke quite truly when he said he was a +student. He now turned his student training on the case as if it were a +problem in mathematics. + +First, the dynamite must be exploded inside the café. Second, the thing +must be done so deftly that no suspicion could fall on the perpetrator. +Third, revenge was no revenge when it (A) killed the man who fired the +mine, or (B) left a trail that would lead to his arrest. + +Dupré sat down at his table, thrust his hands in his pockets, stretched +out his legs, knit his brows, and set himself to solve the conundrum. +He could easily take a handbag filled with explosive material into the +café. He was known there, but not as a friend of Hertzog's. He was a +customer and a tenant, therefore doubly safe. But he could not leave +the bag there, and if he stayed with it his revenge would rebound on +himself. He could hand the bag to the waiter saying he would call for +it again, but the waiter would naturally wonder why he did not give it +to the _concierge_, and have it sent to his rooms; besides, the +_garçon_ was wildly suspicious. The waiter felt his unfortunate +position. He dare not leave the Café Vernon, for he now knew that he +was a marked man. At the Vernon he had police protection, while if he +went anywhere else he would have no more safeguard than any other +citizen; so he stayed on at the Vernon, such a course being, he +thought, the least of two evils. But he watched every incomer much more +sharply than did the policeman. + +Dupré also realised that there was another difficulty about the handbag +scheme. The dynamite must be set off either by a fuse or by clockwork +machinery. A fuse caused smoke, and the moment a man touched a bag +containing clockwork his hand felt the thrill of moving machinery. A +man who hears for the first time the buzz of the rattlesnake's signal, +like the shaking of dry peas in a pod, springs instinctively aside, +even though he knows nothing of snakes. How much more, therefore, would +a suspicious waiter, whose nerves were all alert for the soft, deadly +purr of dynamite mechanism, spoil everything the moment his hand +touched the bag? Yes, Dupré reluctantly admitted to himself, the +handbag theory was not practical. It led to either self-destruction or +prison. + +What then was the next thing, as fuse or mechanism were unavailable? +There was the bomb that exploded when it struck, and Dupré had himself +made several. A man might stand in the middle of the street and shy it +in through the open door. But then he might miss the doorway. Also +until the hour the café closed the street was as light as day. Then the +policeman was all alert for people in the middle of the street. His own +safety depended upon it too. How was the man in the street to be +dispensed with, yet the result attained? If the Boulevard was not so +wide, a person on the opposite side in a front room might fire a +dynamite bomb across, as they do from dynamite guns, but then there +was-- + +"By God!" cried Dupré, "I have it!" + +He drew in his outstretched legs, went to the window and threw it open, +gazing down for a moment at the pavement below. He must measure the +distance at night--and late at night too--he said to himself. He bought +a ball of cord, as nearly the colour of the front of the building as +possible. He left his window open, and after midnight ran the cord out +till he estimated that it about reached the top of the café door. He +stole quietly down and let himself out, leaving the door unlatched. The +door to the apartments was at the extreme edge of the building, while +the café doors were in the middle, with large windows on each side. As +he came round to the front, his heart almost ceased to beat when a +voice from the café door said-- + +"What do you want? What are you doing here at this hour?" + +The policeman had become so much a part of the pavement in Dupré's mind +that he had actually forgotten the officer was there night and day. +Dupré allowed himself the luxury of one silent gasp, then his heart +took up its work again. + +"I was looking for you," he said quietly. By straining his eyes he +noticed at the same moment that the cord dangled about a foot above the +policeman's head, as he stood in the dark doorway. + +[Illustration: THE CORD DANGLED ABOUT A FOOT ABOVE THE POLICEMAN'S +HEAD] + +"I was looking for you. I suppose you don't know of any--any chemist's +shop open so late as this? I have a raging toothache and can't sleep, +and I want to get something for it." + +"Oh, the chemist's at the corner is open all night. Ring the bell at +the right hand." + +"I hate to disturb them for such a trifle." + +"That's what they're there for," said the officer philosophically. + +"Would you mind standing at the other door till I get back? I'll be as +quick as I can. I don't wish to leave it open unprotected, and I don't +want to close it, for the _concierge_ knows I'm in and he is +afraid to open it when any one rings late. You know me, of course; I'm +in No. 16." + +"Yes, I recognise you now, though I didn't at first. I will stand by +the door until you return." + +Dupré went to the corner shop and bought a bottle of toothache drops +from the sleepy youth behind the counter. He roused him up however, and +made him explain how the remedy was to be applied. He thanked the +policeman, closed the door, and went up to his room. A second later the +cord was cut at the window and quietly pulled in. + +Dupré sat down and breathed hard for a few moments. + +"You fool!" he said to himself; "a mistake or two like that and you are +doomed. That's what comes of thinking too much on one branch of your +subject. Another two feet and the string would have been down on his +nose. I am certain he did not see it; I could hardly see it myself, +looking for it. The guarding of the side door was an inspiration. But +I must think well over every phase of the subject before acting again. +This is a lesson." + +As he went on with his preparations it astonished him to find how many +various things had to be thought of in connexion with an apparently +simple scheme, the neglect of any one of which would endanger the whole +enterprise. His plan was a most uncomplicated one. All he had to do was +to tie a canister of dynamite at the end of a string of suitable +length, and at night, before the café doors were closed, fling it from +his window so that the package would sweep in by the open door, strike +against the ceiling of the café, and explode. First he thought of +holding the end of the cord in his hand at the open window, but +reflection showed him that if, in the natural excitement of the moment, +he drew back or leant too far forward the package might strike the +front of the house above the door, or perhaps hit the pavement. He +therefore drove a stout nail in the window-sill and attached the end of +the cord to that. Again, he had to render his canister of explosive so +sensitive to any shock that he realised if he tied the cord around it +and flung it out into the night the can might go off when the string +was jerked tight and the explosion take place in mid-air above the +street. So he arranged a spiral spring between can and cord to take up +harmlessly the shock caused by the momentum of the package when the +string became suddenly taut. He saw that the weak part of his project +was the fact that everything would depend on his own nerve and accuracy +of aim at the critical moment, and that a slight miscalculation to the +right or to the left would cause the bomb, when falling down and in, to +miss the door altogether. He would have but one chance, and there was +no opportunity of practising. However, Dupré, who was a philosophical +man, said to himself that if people allowed small technical +difficulties to trouble them too much, nothing really worth doing would +be accomplished in this world. He felt sure he was going to make some +little mistake that would ruin all his plans, but he resolved to do +the best he could and accept the consequences with all the composure at +his command. + +As he stood by the window on the fatal night with the canister in his +hand he tried to recollect if there was anything left undone or any +tracks remaining uncovered. There was no light in his room, but a fire +burned in the grate, throwing flickering reflections on the opposite +wall. + +"There are four things I must do," he murmured: "first, pull up the +string; second, throw it in the fire; third, draw out the nail; fourth, +close the window." + +He was pleased to notice that his heart was not beating faster than +usual. "I think I have myself well in hand, yet I must not be too cool +when I get downstairs. There are so many things to think of all at one +time," he said to himself with a sigh. He looked up and down the +street. The pavement was clear. He waited until the policeman had +passed the door. He would take ten steps before he turned on his beat. +When his back was towards the café door Dupré launched his bomb out +into the night. + +[Illustration: DUPRÉ LAUNCHED HIS BOMB OUT INTO THE NIGHT] + +He drew back instantly and watched the nail. It held when the jerk +came. A moment later the whole building lurched like a drunken man, +heaving its shoulders as it were. Dupré was startled by a great square +of plaster coming down on his table with a crash. Below, there was a +roar of muffled thunder. The floor trembled under him after the heave. +The glass in the window clattered down, and he felt the air smite him +on the breast as if some one had struck him a blow. + +He looked out for a moment. The concussion had extinguished the street +lamps opposite. All was dark in front of the café where a moment before +the Boulevard was flooded with light. A cloud of smoke was rolling out +from the lower part of the house. + +"Four things," said Dupré, as he rapidly pulled in the cord. It was +shrivelled at the end. Dupré did the other three things quickly. + +Everything was strangely silent, although the deadened roar of the +explosion still sounded dully in his ears. His boots crunched on the +plaster as he walked across the room and groped for the door. He had +some trouble in pulling it open. It stuck so fast that he thought it +was locked; then he remembered with a cold shiver of fear that the door +had been unlocked all the time he had stood at the window with the +canister in his hand. + +"I have certainly done some careless thing like that which will +betray me yet; I wonder what it is?" + +He wrenched the door open at last. The lights in the hall were out; he +struck a match, and made his way down. He thought he heard groans. As +he went down, he found it was the _concierge_ huddled in a corner. + +"What is the matter?" he asked. + +"Oh, my God, my God!" cried the _concierge_, "I knew they would do +it. We are all blown to atoms!" + +"Get up," said Dupré, "you're not hurt; come with me and see if we can +be of any use." + +"I'm afraid of another explosion," groaned the _concierge_. + +"Nonsense! There's never a second. Come along." + +They found some difficulty in getting outside, and then it was through +a hole in the wall and not through the door. The lower hall was +wrecked. + +Dupré expected to find a crowd, but there was no one there. He did not +realise how short a time had elapsed since the disaster. The policeman +was on his hands and knees in the street, slowly getting up, like a man +in a dream. Dupré ran to him, and helped him on his feet. + +"Are you hurt?" he asked. + +"I don't know," said the policeman, rubbing his head in his +bewilderment. + +"How was it done?" + +"Oh, don't ask me. All at once there was a clap of thunder, and the +next thing I was on my face in the street." + +"Is your comrade inside?" + +"Yes; he and M. Sonne and two customers." + +"And the _garçon_, wasn't he there?" cried Dupré, with a note of +disappointment in his voice. + +The policeman didn't notice the disappointed tone, but answered-- + +"Oh, the _garçon_, of course." + +"Ah," said Dupré, in a satisfied voice, "let us go in, and help them." +Now the people had begun to gather in crowds, but kept at some distance +from the café. "Dynamite! dynamite!" they said, in awed voices among +themselves. + +A detachment of police came mysteriously from somewhere. They drove the +crowd still further back. + +"What is this man doing here?" asked the Chief. + +The policeman answered, "He's a friend of ours; he lives in the house." + +"Oh," said the Chief. + +"I was going in," said Dupré, "to find my friend, the officer, on duty +in the café." + +"Very well, come with us." + +They found the policeman insensible under the _débris_, with a leg +and both arms broken. Dupré helped to carry him out to the ambulance. +M. Sonne was breathing when they found him, but died on the way to the +hospital. The _garçon_ had been blown to pieces. + +The Chief thanked Dupré for his assistance. + +They arrested many persons, but never discovered who blew up the Café +Vernon, although it was surmised that some miscreant had left a bag +containing an infernal machine with either the waiter or the +proprietor. + + + + +AN ELECTRICAL SLIP. + + +Public opinion had been triumphantly vindicated. The insanity plea had +broken down, and Albert Prior was sentenced to be hanged by the neck +until he was dead, and might the Lord have mercy on his soul. Everybody +agreed that it was a righteous verdict, but now that he was sentenced +they added, "Poor fellow!" + +Albert Prior was a young man who had had more of his own way than was +good for him. His own family--father, mother, brother, and sisters--had +given way to him so much, that he appeared to think the world at large +should do the same. The world differed with him. Unfortunately, the +first to oppose his violent will was a woman--a girl almost. She would +have nothing to do with him, and told him so. He stormed, of course, +but did not look upon her opposition as serious. No girl in her senses +could continue to refuse a young man with his prospects in life. But +when he heard that she had become engaged to young Bowen, the telegraph +operator, Prior's rage passed all bounds. He determined to frighten +Bowen out of the place, and called at the telegraph office for that +laudable purpose; but Bowen was the night operator, and was absent. The +day man, with a smile, not knowing what he did, said Bowen would likely +be found at the Parker Place, where Miss Johnson lived with her aunt, +her parents being dead. + +Prior ground his teeth and departed. He found Miss Johnson at home, but +alone. There was a stormy scene, ending with the tragedy. He fired four +times at her, keeping the other two bullets for himself. But he was a +coward and a cur at heart, and when it came to the point of putting the +two bullets in himself he quailed, and thought it best to escape. Then +electricity did him its first dis-service. It sent his description far +and wide, capturing him twenty-five miles from his home. He was taken +back to the county town where he lived, and lodged in gaol. + +Public opinion, ever right and all-powerful, now asserted itself. The +outward and visible sign of its action was an ominous gathering of +dark-browed citizens outside the gaol. There were determined mutterings +among the crowd rather than outspoken anger, but the mob was the more +dangerous on that account. One man in its midst thrust his closed hand +towards the sky, and from his fist dangled a rope. A cry like the +growling of a pack of wolves went up as the mob saw the rope, and they +clamoured at the gates of the gaol. "Lynch him! Gaoler, give up the +keys!" was the cry. + +The agitated sheriff knew his duty, but he hesitated to perform it. +Technically, this was a mob--a mob of outlaws; but in reality it was +composed of his fellow-townsmen, his neighbours, his friends--justly +indignant at the commission of an atrocious crime. He might order them +to be fired upon, and the order perhaps would be obeyed. One, two, a +dozen might be killed, and technically again they would have deserved +their fate; yet all that perfectly legal slaughter would be--for what? +To save, for a time only, the worthless life of a wretch who rightly +merited any doom the future might have in store for him. So the sheriff +wrung his hands, bewailed the fact that such a crisis should have +arisen during his term of office, and did nothing; while the clamours +of the mob grew so loud that the trembling prisoner in his cell heard +it, and broke out into a cold sweat when he quickly realised what it +meant. He was to have a dose of justice in the raw. + +"What shall I do?" asked the gaoler. "Give up the keys?" + +"I don't know what to do," cried the sheriff, despairingly. "Would +there be any use in speaking to them, do you think?" + +"Not the slightest." + +"I ought to call on them to disperse, and if they refused I suppose I +should have them fired on." + +"That is the law," answered the gaoler, grimly. + +"What would you do if you were in my place?" appealed the sheriff. It +was evident the stern Roman Father was not elected by popular vote in +_that_ county. + +"Me?" said the gaoler. "Oh, I'd give 'em the keys, and let 'em hang +him. It'll save you the trouble. If you have 'em fired on, you're sure +to kill the very men who are at this moment urging 'em to go home. +There's always an innocent man in a mob, and he's the one to get hurt +every time." + +"Well then, Perkins, you give them the keys; but for Heaven's sake +don't say I told you. They'll be sorry for this to-morrow. You know I'm +elected, but you're appointed, so you don't need to mind what people +say." + +"That's all right," said the gaoler, "I'll stand the brunt." + +But the keys were not given up. The clamour had ceased. A young man +with pale face and red eyes stood on the top of the stone wall that +surrounded the gaol. He held up his hand and there was instant silence. +They all recognised him as Bowen, the night operator, to whom +_she_ had been engaged. + +"Gentlemen," he cried--and his clear voice reached the outskirts of the +crowd--"don't do it. Don't put an everlasting stain on the fair name of +our town. No one has ever been lynched in this county and none in this +State, so far as I know. Don't let us begin it. If I thought the +miserable scoundrel inside would escape--if I thought his money would +buy him off--I'd be the man to lead you to batter down those doors and +hang him on the nearest tree--and you know it." There were cheers at +this. "But he won't escape. His money can't buy him off. He will be +hanged by the law. Don't think it's mercy I'm preaching; it's +vengeance!" Bowen shook his clenched fist at the gaol. "That wretch +there has been in hell ever since he heard your shouts. He'll be in +hell, for he's a dastard, until the time his trembling legs carry him +to the scaffold. I want him to _stay_ in this hell till he drops +through into the other, if there is one. I want him to suffer some of +the misery he has caused. Lynching is over in a moment. I want that +murderer to die by the slow merciless cruelty of the law." + +Even the worst in the crowd shuddered as they heard these words and +realised as they looked at Bowen's face, almost inhuman in its rage, +that his thirst for revenge made their own seem almost innocent. The +speech broke up the crowd. The man with the rope threw it over into the +gaol-yard, shouting to the sheriff, "Take care of it, old man, you'll +need it." + +The crowd dispersed, and the sheriff, overtaking Bowen, brought his +hand down affectionately on his shoulder. + +"Bowen, my boy," he said, "you're a brick. I'm everlastingly obliged to +you. You got me out of an awful hole. If you ever get into a tight +place, Bowen, come to me, and if money or influence will help you, you +can have all I've got of either." + +"Thanks," said Bowen, shortly. He was not in a mood for +congratulations. + +And so it came about, just as Bowen knew it would, that all the money +and influence of the Prior family could not help the murderer, and he +was sentenced to be hanged on September 21, at 6 A.M. And thus public +opinion was satisfied. + +But the moment the sentence was announced, and the fate of the young +man settled, a curious change began to be noticed in public opinion. It +seemed to have veered round. There was much sympathy for the family of +course. Then there came to be much sympathy for the criminal himself. +People quoted the phrase about the worst use a man can be put to. +Ladies sent flowers to the condemned man's cell. After all, hanging +him, poor fellow, would not bring Miss Johnson back to life. However, +few spoke of Miss Johnson, she was forgotten by all but one man, who +ground his teeth when he realised the instability of public opinion. + +Petitions were got up, headed by the local clergy. Women begged for +signatures, and got them. Every man and woman signed them. All except +one; and even he was urged to sign by a tearful lady, who asked him to +remember that vengeance was the Lord's. + +"But the Lord has his instruments," said Bowen, grimly; "and I swear to +you, madam, that if you succeed in getting that murderer reprieved, I +will be the instrument of the Lord's vengeance." + +"Oh, don't say that," pleaded the lady. "Your signature would have +_such_ an effect. You were noble once and saved him from lynching; +be noble again and save him from the gallows." + +"I shall certainly not sign. It is, if you will pardon me, an insult to +ask me. If you reprieve him you will make a murderer of me, for I will +kill him when he comes out, if it is twenty years from now. You talk of +lynching; it is such work as you are doing that makes lynching +possible. The people seem all with you now, more shame to them, but the +next murder that is committed will be followed by a lynching just +because you are successful to-day." + +The lady left Bowen with a sigh, depressed because of the depravity of +human nature; as indeed she had every right to be. + +The Prior family was a rich and influential one. The person who is +alive has many to help; the one in the grave has few to cry for +justice. Petitions calling for mercy poured in on the governor from all +parts of the State. The good man, whose eye was entirely on his own re- +election, did not know what to do. If any one could have shown him +mathematically that this action or the other would gain or lose him +exactly so many votes, his course would have been clear, but his own +advisers were uncertain about the matter. A mistake in a little thing +like this might easily lose him the election. Sometimes it was rumoured +that the governor was going to commute the sentence to imprisonment for +life; then the rumour was contradicted. + +People claimed, apparently with justice, that surely imprisonment for +life was a sufficient punishment for a young man; but every one knew in +his own heart that the commutation was only the beginning of the fight, +and that a future governor would have sufficient pressure brought to +bear upon him to let the young man go. + +Up to September 20 the governor made no sign. When Bowen went to his +duties on the night of the 20th he met the sheriff. + +"Has any reprieve arrived yet?" asked Bowen. The sheriff shook his head +sadly. He had never yet hanged a man, and did not wish to begin. + +"No," said the sheriff. "And from what I heard this afternoon none is +likely to arrive. The governor has made up his mind at last that the +law must take its course." + +"I'm glad of that," said Bowen. + +"Well, I'm not." + +After nine o'clock messages almost ceased coming in, and Bowen sat +reading the evening paper. Suddenly there came a call for the office, +and the operator answered. As the message came over the wire, Bowen +wrote it down mechanically from the clicking instrument, not +understanding its purport; but when he read it, he jumped to his feet, +with an oath. He looked wildly around the room, then realised with a +sigh of relief that he was alone, except for the messenger boy who sat +dozing in a corner, with his cap over his eyes. He took up the telegram +again, and read it with set teeth. + + "_Sheriff of Brenting County, Brentingville_. + +"Do not proceed further with execution of Prior. Sentence commuted. +Documents sent off by to-night's mail registered. Answer that you +understand this message. + + "JOHN DAY, _Governor_." + +[Illustration: "DO NOT PROCEED FURTHER WITH EXECUTION"] + +Bowen walked up and down the room with knitted brow. He was in no doubt +as to what he would do, but he wanted to think over it. The telegraph +instrument called to him and he turned to it, giving the answering +click. The message was to himself from the operator at the capital, and +it told him he was to forward the sheriff's telegram without delay, and +report to the office at the capital--a man's life depended on it, the +message concluded. Bowen answered that the telegram to the sheriff +would be immediately sent. + +Taking another telegraph blank, he wrote:-- + + "_Sheriff of Brenting County, Brentingville_. + +"Proceed with execution of Prior. No reprieve will be sent. Reply if +you understand this message. + + "JOHN DAY, _Governor_." + +It is a pity it cannot be written that Bowen felt some compunction at +what he was doing. We like to think that, when a man deliberately +commits a crime, he should hesitate and pay enough deference to the +proprieties as to feel at least a temporary regret, even if he goes on +with his crime afterward. Bowen's thoughts were upon the dead girl, not +on the living man. He roused the dozing telegraph messenger. + +"Here," he said, "take this to the gaol and find the sheriff. If he is +not there, go to his residence. If he is asleep, wake him up. Tell him +this wants an answer. Give him a blank, and when he has filled it up, +bring it to me; give the message to no one else, mind." + +The boy said "Yes, sir," and departed into the night. He returned so +quickly that Bowen knew without asking that he had found the sleepless +sheriff at the gaol. The message to the governor, written in a +trembling hand by the sheriff, was: "I understand that the execution is +to take place. If you should change your mind, for God's sake telegraph +as soon as possible. I shall delay execution until last moment allowed +by law." + +Bowen did not send that message, but another. He laughed--and then +checked himself in alarm, for his laugh sounded strange. "I wonder if I +am quite sane," he said to himself. "I doubt it." + +The night wore slowly on. A man representing a Press association came +in after twelve and sent a long dispatch. Bowen telegraphed it, taking +the chances that the receiver would not communicate with the sender of +the reprieve at the capital. He knew how mechanically news of the +greatest importance was taken off the wire by men who have +automatically been doing that for years. Anyhow all the copper and zinc +in the world could not get a message into Brentingville, except through +him, until the day operator came on, and then it would be too late. + +The newspaper man, lingering, asked if there would be only one +telegrapher on hand after the execution. + +"I shall have a lot of stuff to send over and I want it rushed. Some of +the papers may get out specials. I would have brought an operator with +me but we thought there was going to be a reprieve--although the +sheriff didn't seem to think so," he added. + +"The day operator will be here at six, I will return as soon as I have +had a cup of coffee, and we'll handle all you can write," answered +Bowen, without looking up from his instrument. + +"Thanks. Grim business, isn't it?" + +"It is." + +"I thought the governor would cave; didn't you?" + +"I didn't know." + +"He's a shrewd old villain. He'd have lost next election if he'd +reprieved this man. People don't want to see lynching introduced, and a +weak-kneed governor is Judge Lynch's friend. Well, good-night, see you +in the morning." + +"Good-night," said Bowen. + +Daylight gradually dimmed the lamps in the telegraph room, and Bowen +started and caught his breath as the church bell began to toll. + +It was ten minutes after six when Bowen's partner, the day man, came +in. + +"Well, they've hanged him," he said. + +Bowen was fumbling among some papers on his table. He folded two of +them and put them in his inside pocket. Then he spoke: + +"There will be a newspaper man here in a few moments with a good deal +of copy to telegraph. Rush it off as fast as you can and I'll be back +to help before you are tired." + +As Bowen walked towards the gaol he met the scattered group of those +who had been privileged to see the execution. They were discussing +capital punishment, and some were yawningly complaining about the +unearthly hour chosen for the function they had just beheld. Between +the outside gate and the gaol door Bowen met the sheriff, who was +looking ghastly and sallow in the fresh morning light. + +"I have come to give myself up," said Bowen, before the official could +greet him. + +"To give yourself up? What for?" + +"For murder, I suppose." + +"This is no time for joking, young man," said the sheriff, severely. + +"Do I look like a humourist? Read that." + +First incredulity, then horror, overspread the haggard face of the +sheriff as he read and re-read the dispatch. He staggered back against +the wall, putting up his arm to keep himself from falling. + +"Bowen," he gasped: "Do you--do you mean to--to tell me--that this +message came for me last night?" + +"I do." + +"And you--you suppressed it?" + +"I did--and sent you a false one." + +"And I have hanged--a reprieved man?" + +"You have hanged a murderer--yes." + +"My God! My God!" cried the sheriff. He turned his face on his arm +against the wall and wept. His nerves were gone. He had been up all +night and had never hanged a man before. + +Bowen stood there until the spasm was over. The sheriff turned +indignantly to him, trying to hide the feeling of shame he felt at +giving way, in anger at the witness of it. + +"And you come to me, you villain, because I said I would help you if +you ever got into a tight place?" + +"Damn your tight place," cried the young man, "I come to you to give +myself up. I stand by what I do. I don't squeal. There will be no +petitions got up for _me_. What are you going to do with me?" + +"I don't know, Bowen, I don't know," faltered the official, on the +point of breaking down again. He did not wish to have to hang another +man, and a friend at that. "I'll have to see the governor. I'll leave +by the first train. I don't suppose you'll try to escape." + +"I'll be here when you want me." + +So Bowen went back to help the day operator, and the sheriff left by +the first train for the capital. + +Now a strange thing happened. For the first time within human +recollection the newspapers were unanimous in commending the conduct of +the head of the State, the organs of the governor's own party lavishly +praising him; the opposition sheets grudgingly admitting that he had +more backbone than they had given him credit for. Public opinion, like +the cat of the simile, had jumped, and that unmistakably. + +"In the name of all that's wonderful, sheriff," said the bewildered +governor, "who signed all those petitions? If the papers wanted the man +hanged, why, in the fiend's name, did they not say so before, and save +me all this worry? Now how many know of this suppressed dispatch?" + +"Well, there's you and your subordinates here and----" + +"_We'll_ say nothing about it." + +"And then there is me and Bowen in Brentingville. That's all." + +"Well, Bowen will keep quiet for his own sake, and you won't mention +it." + +"Certainly not." + +"Then let's _all_ keep quiet. The thing's safe if some of those +newspaper fellows don't get after it. It's not on record in the books, +and I'll burn all the documents." + +And thus it was. Public opinion was once more vindicated. The governor +was triumphantly re-elected as a man with some stamina about him. + + + + +THE VENGEANCE OF THE DEAD. + + +It is a bad thing for a man to die with an unsatisfied thirst for +revenge parching his soul. David Allen died, cursing Bernard Heaton and +lawyer Grey; hating the lawyer who had won the case even more than the +man who was to gain by the winning. Yet if cursing were to be done, +David should rather have cursed his own stubbornness and stupidity. + +To go back for some years, this is what had happened. Squire Heaton's +only son went wrong. The Squire raged, as was natural. He was one of a +long line of hard-drinking, hard-riding, hard-swearing squires, and it +was maddening to think that his only son should deliberately take to +books and cold water, when there was manly sport on the country side +and old wine in the cellar. Yet before now such blows have descended +upon deserving men, and they have to be borne as best they may. Squire +Heaton bore it badly, and when his son went off on a government +scientific expedition around the world the Squire drank harder, and +swore harder than ever, but never mentioned the boy's name. + +Two years after, young Heaton returned, but the doors of the Hall were +closed against him. He had no mother to plead for him, although it was +not likely that would have made any difference, for the Squire was not +a man to be appealed to and swayed this way or that. He took his +hedges, his drinks, and his course in life straight. The young man went +to India, where he was drowned. As there is no mystery in this matter, +it may as well be stated here that young Heaton ultimately returned to +England, as drowned men have ever been in the habit of doing, when +their return will mightily inconvenience innocent persons who have +taken their places. It is a disputed question whether the sudden +disappearance of a man, or his reappearance after a lapse of years, is +the more annoying. + +If the old Squire felt remorse at the supposed death of his only son he +did not show it. The hatred which had been directed against his +unnatural offspring re-doubled itself and was bestowed on his nephew +David Allen, who was now the legal heir to the estate and its income. +Allen was the impecunious son of the Squire's sister who had married +badly. It is hard to starve when one is heir to a fine property, but +that is what David did, and it soured him. The Jews would not lend on +the security--the son might return--so David Allen waited for a dead +man's shoes, impoverished and embittered. + +At last the shoes were ready for him to step into. The old Squire died +as a gentleman should, of apoplexy, in his armchair, with a decanter at +his elbow. David Allen entered into his belated inheritance, and his +first act was to discharge every servant, male and female, about the +place and engage others who owed their situations to him alone. Then +were the Jews sorry they had not trusted him. + +[Illustration: HIS FIRST ACT WAS TO DISCHARGE EVERY SERVANT] + +He was now rich but broken in health, with bent shoulders, without a +friend on the earth. He was a man suspicious of all the world, and he +had a furtive look over his shoulder as if he expected Fate to deal him +a sudden blow--as indeed it did. + +It was a beautiful June day, when there passed the porter's lodge and +walked up the avenue to the main entrance of the Hall a man whose face +was bronzed by a torrid sun. He requested speech with the master and +was asked into a room to wait. + +At length David Allen shuffled in, with his bent shoulders, glaring at +the intruder from under his bushy eyebrows. The stranger rose as he +entered and extended his hand. + +"You don't know me, of course. I believe we have never met before. I am +your cousin." + +Allen ignored the outstretched hand. + +"I have no cousin," he said. + +"I am Bernard Heaton, the son of your uncle." + +"Bernard Heaton is dead." + +"I beg your pardon, he is not. I ought to know, for I tell you I am +he." + +"You lie!" + +Heaton, who had been standing since his cousin's entrance, now sat down +again, Allen remaining on his feet. + +"Look here," said the new-comer. "Civility costs nothing and----" + +"I cannot be civil to an impostor." + +"Quite so. It _is_ difficult. Still, if I am an impostor, civility +can do no harm, while if it should turn out that I am not an impostor, +then your present tone may make after arrangements all the harder upon +you. Now will you oblige me by sitting down? I dislike, while sitting +myself, talking to a standing man." + +"Will you oblige me by stating what you want before I order my servants +to turn you out?" + +"I see you are going to be hard on yourself. I will endeavour to keep +my temper, and if I succeed it will be a triumph for a member of our +family. I am to state what I want? I will. I want as my own the three +rooms on the first floor of the south wing--the rooms communicating +with each other. You perceive I at least know the house. I want my +meals served there, and I wish to be undisturbed at all hours. Next I +desire that you settle upon me say five hundred a year--or six hundred +--out of the revenues of the estate. I am engaged in scientific research +of a peculiar kind. I can make money, of course, but I wish my mind +left entirely free from financial worry. I shall not interfere with +your enjoyment of the estate in the least." + +"I'll wager you will not. So you think I am fool enough to harbour and +feed the first idle vagabond that comes along and claims to be my dead +cousin. Go to the courts with your story and be imprisoned as similar +perjurers have been." + +"Of course I don't expect you to take my word for it. If you were any +judge of human nature you would see I am not a vagabond. Still that's +neither here nor there. Choose three of your own friends. I will lay my +proofs before them and abide by their decision. Come, nothing could be +fairer than that, now could it?" + +"Go to the courts, I tell you." + +"Oh, certainly. But only as a last resort. No wise man goes to law if +there is another course open. But what is the use of taking such an +absurd position? You _know_ I'm your cousin. I'll take you +blindfold into every room in the place." + +"Any discharged servant could do that. I have had enough of you. I am +not a man to be black-mailed. Will you leave the house yourself, or +shall I call the servants to put you out?" + +"I should be sorry to trouble you," said Heaton, rising. "That is your +last word, I take it?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Then good-bye. We shall meet at Philippi." + +Allen watched him disappear down the avenue, and it dimly occurred to +him that he had not acted diplomatically. + +Heaton went directly to lawyer Grey, and laid the case before him. He +told the lawyer what his modest demands were, and gave instructions +that if, at any time before the suit came off, his cousin would +compromise, an arrangement avoiding publicity should be arrived at. + +"Excuse me for saying that looks like weakness," remarked the lawyer. + +"I know it does," answered Heaton. "But my case is so strong that I can +afford to have it appear weak." + +The lawyer shook his head. He knew how uncertain the law was. But he +soon discovered that no compromise was possible. + +The case came to trial, and the verdict was entirely in favour of +Bernard Heaton. + +The pallor of death spread over the sallow face of David Allen, as he +realised that he was once again a man without a penny or a foot of +land. He left the court with bowed head, speaking no word to those who +had defended him. Heaton hurried after him, overtaking him on the +pavement. + +"I knew this had to be the result," he said to the defeated man. "No +other outcome was possible. I have no desire to cast you penniless into +the street. What you refused to me I shall be glad to offer you. I will +make the annuity a thousand pounds." + +Allen, trembling, darted one look of malignant hate at his cousin. + +"You successful scoundrel!" he cried. "You and your villainous +confederate Grey. I tell you----" + +The blood rushed to his mouth; he fell upon the pavement and died. One +and the same day had robbed him of his land and his life. + +Bernard Heaton deeply regretted the tragic issue, but went on with his +researches at the Hall, keeping much to himself. Lawyer Grey, who had +won renown by his conduct of the celebrated case, was almost his only +friend. To him Heaton partially disclosed his hopes, told what he had +learned during those years he had been lost to the world in India, and +claimed that if he succeeded in combining the occultism of the East +with the science of the West, he would make for himself a name of +imperishable renown. + +The lawyer, a practical man of the world, tried to persuade Heaton to +abandon his particular line of research, but without success. + +"No good can come of it," said Grey. "India has spoiled you. Men who +dabble too much in that sort of thing go mad. The brain is a delicate +instrument. Do not trifle with it." + +"Nevertheless," persisted Heaton, "the great discoveries of the +twentieth century are going to be in that line, just as the great +discoveries of the nineteenth century have been in the direction of +electricity." + +"The cases are not parallel. Electricity is a tangible substance." + +"Is it? Then tell me what it is composed of? We all know how it is +generated, and we know partly what it will do, but what _is_ it?" + +"I shall have to charge you six-and-eightpence for answering that +question," the lawyer had said with a laugh. "At any rate there is a +good deal to be discovered about electricity yet. Turn your attention +to that and leave this Indian nonsense alone." + +Yet, astonishing as it may seem, Bernard Heaton, to his undoing, +succeeded, after many futile attempts, several times narrowly escaping +death. Inventors and discoverers have to risk their lives as often as +soldiers, with less chance of worldly glory. + +First his invisible excursions were confined to the house and his own +grounds, then he went further afield, and to his intense astonishment +one day he met the spirit of the man who hated him. + +"Ah," said David Allen, "you did not live long to enjoy your ill-gotten +gains." + +"You are as wrong in this sphere of existence as you were in the other. +I am not dead." + +"Then why are you here and in this shape?" + +"I suppose there is no harm in telling _you_. What I wanted to +discover, at the time you would not give me a hearing, was how to +separate the spirit from its servant, the body--that is, temporarily +and not finally. My body is at this moment lying apparently asleep in a +locked room in my house--one of the rooms I begged from you. In an hour +or two I shall return and take possession of it." + +"And how do you take possession of it and quit it?" + +Heaton, pleased to notice the absence of that rancour which had +formerly been Allen's most prominent characteristic, and feeling that +any information given to a disembodied spirit was safe as far as the +world was concerned, launched out on the subject that possessed his +whole mind. + +"It is very interesting," said Allen, when he had finished. + +And so they parted. + +David Allen at once proceeded to the Hall, which he had not seen since +the day he left it to attend the trial. He passed quickly through the +familiar apartments until he entered the locked room on the first floor +of the south wing. There on the bed lay the body of Heaton, most of the +colour gone from the face, but breathing regularly, if almost +imperceptibly, like a mechanical wax-figure. + +If a watcher had been in the room, he would have seen the colour slowly +return to the face and the sleeper gradually awaken, at last rising +from the bed. + +Allen, in the body of Heaton, at first felt very uncomfortable, as a +man does who puts on an ill-fitting suit of clothes. The limitations +caused by the wearing of a body also discommoded him. He looked +carefully around the room. It was plainly furnished. A desk in the +corner he found contained the MS. of a book prepared for the printer, +all executed with the neat accuracy of a scientific man. Above the +desk, pasted against the wall, was a sheet of paper headed: + +"What to do if I am found here apparently dead." Underneath were +plainly written instructions. It was evident that Heaton had taken no +one into his confidence. + +It is well if you go in for revenge to make it as complete as possible. +Allen gathered up the MS., placed it in the grate, and set a match to +it. Thus he at once destroyed his enemy's chances of posthumous renown, +and also removed evidence that might, in certain contingencies, prove +Heaton's insanity. + +Unlocking the door, he proceeded down the stairs, where he met a +servant who told him luncheon was ready. He noticed that the servant +was one whom he had discharged, so he came to the conclusion that +Heaton had taken back all the old retainers who had applied to him when +the result of the trial became public. Before lunch was over he saw +that some of his own servants were also there still. + +"Send the gamekeeper to me," said Allen to the servant. + +Brown came in, who had been on the estate for twenty years +continuously, with the exception of the few months after Allen had +packed him off. + +"What pistols have I, Brown?" + +"Well, sir, there's the old Squire's duelling pistols, rather out of +date, sir; then your own pair and that American revolver." + +"Is the revolver in working order?" + +"Oh yes, sir." + +"Then bring it to me and some cartridges." + +When Brown returned with the revolver his master took it and examined +it. + +"Be careful, sir," said Brown, anxiously. "You know it's a self-cocker, +sir." + +"A what?" + +"A self-cocking revolver, sir"--trying to repress his astonishment at +the question his master asked about a weapon with which he should have +been familiar. + +"Show me what you mean," said Allen, handing back the revolver. + +Brown explained that the mere pulling of the trigger fired the weapon. + +"Now shoot at the end window--never mind the glass. Don't stand gaping +at me, do as I tell you." + +Brown fired the revolver, and a diamond pane snapped out of the window. + +"How many times will that shoot without reloading?" + +"Seven times, sir." + +"Very good. Put in a cartridge for the one you fired and leave the +revolver with me. Find out when there is a train to town, and let me +know." + +It will be remembered that the dining-room incident was used at the +trial, but without effect, as going to show that Bernard Heaton was +insane. Brown also testified that there was something queer about his +master that day. + +David Allen found all the money he needed in the pockets of Bernard +Heaton. He caught his train, and took a cab from the station directly +to the law offices of Messrs. Grey, Leason and Grey, anxious to catch +the lawyer before he left for the day. + +The clerk sent up word that Mr. Heaton wished to see the senior Mr. +Grey for a few moments. Allen was asked to walk up. + +"You know the way, sir," said the clerk. + +Allen hesitated. + +"Announce me, if you please." + +The clerk, being well trained, showed no surprise, but led the visitor +to Mr. Grey's door. + +"How are you, Heaton?" said the lawyer, cordially. "Take a chair. Where +have you been keeping yourself this long time? How are the Indian +experiments coming on?" + +"Admirably, admirably," answered Allen. + +At the sound of his voice the lawyer looked up quickly, then apparently +reassured he said-- + +"You're not looking quite the same. Been keeping yourself too much +indoors, I imagine. You ought to quit research and do some shooting +this autumn." + +"I intend to, and I hope then to have your company." + +"I shall be pleased to run down, although I am no great hand at a gun." + +"I want to speak with you a few moments in private. Would you mind +locking the door so that we may not be interrupted?" + +"We are quite safe from interruption here," said the lawyer, as he +turned the key in the lock; then resuming his seat he added, "Nothing +serious, I hope?" + +"It is rather serious. Do you mind my sitting here?" asked Allen, as he +drew up his chair so that he was between Grey and the door, with the +table separating them. The lawyer was watching him with anxious face, +but without, as yet, serious apprehension. + +"Now," said Allen, "will you answer me a simple question? To whom are +you talking?" + +"To whom--?" The lawyer in his amazement could get no further. + +"Yes. To whom are you talking? Name him." + +"Heaton, what is the matter with you? Are you ill?" + +"Well, you have mentioned a name, but, being a villain and a lawyer, +you cannot give a direct answer to a very simple question. You think +you are talking to that poor fool Bernard Heaton. It is true that the +body you are staring at is Heaton's body, but the man you are talking +to is--David Allen--the man you swindled and then murdered. Sit down. +If you move you are a dead man. Don't try to edge to the door. There +are seven deaths in this revolver and the whole seven can be let loose +in less than that many seconds, for this is a self-cocking instrument. +Now it will take you at least ten seconds to get to the door, so remain +exactly where you are. That advice will strike you as wise, even if, as +you think, you have to do with a madman. You asked me a minute ago how +the Indian experiments were coming on, and I answered admirably. +Bernard Heaton left his body this morning, and I, David Allen, am now +in possession of it. Do you understand? I admit it is a little +difficult for the legal mind to grasp such a situation." + +"Ah, not at all," said Grey, airily. "I comprehend it perfectly. The +man I see before me is the spirit, life, soul, whatever you like to +call it--of David Allen in the body of my friend Bernard Heaton. The-- +ah--essence of my friend is at this moment fruitlessly searching for +his missing body. Perhaps he is in this room now, not knowing how to +get out a spiritual writ of ejectment against you." + +"You show more quickness than I expected of you," said Allen. + +"Thanks," rejoined Grey, although he said to himself, "Heaton has gone +mad! stark staring mad, as I expected he would. He is armed. The +situation is becoming dangerous. I must humour him." + +"Thanks. And now may I ask what you propose to do? You have not come +here for legal advice. You never, unluckily for me, were a client of +mine." + +"No. I did not come either to give or take advice. I am here, alone +with you--you gave orders that we were not to be disturbed, remember-- +for the sole purpose of revenging myself on you and on Heaton. Now +listen, for the scheme will commend itself to your ingenious mind. I +shall murder you in this room. I shall then give myself up. I shall +vacate this body in Newgate prison and your friend may then resume his +tenancy or not as he chooses. He may allow the unoccupied body to die +in the cell or he may take possession of it and be hanged for murder. +Do you appreciate the completeness of my vengeance on you both? Do you +think your friend will care to put on his body again?" + +[Illustration: "WHEN YOU PRESS THE IVORY BUTTON, I FIRE"] + +"It is a nice question," said the lawyer, as he edged his chair +imperceptibly along and tried to grope behind himself, unperceived by +his visitor, for the electric button, placed against the wall. "It is a +nice question, and I would like to have time to consider it in all its +bearings before I gave an answer." + +"You shall have all the time you care to allow yourself. I am in no +hurry, and I wish you to realise your situation as completely as +possible. Allow me to say that the electric button is a little to the +left and slightly above where you are feeling for it. I merely mention +this because I must add, in fairness to you, that the moment you touch +it, time ends as far as you are concerned. When you press the ivory +button, I fire." + +The lawyer rested his arms on the table before him, and for the first +time a hunted look of alarm came into his eyes, which died out of them +when, after a moment or two of intense fear, he regained possession of +himself. + +"I would like to ask you a question or two," he said at last. + +"As many as you choose. I am in no hurry, as I said before." + +"I am thankful for your reiteration of that. The first question is +then: has a temporary residence in another sphere interfered in any way +with your reasoning powers?" + +"I think not." + +"Ah, I had hoped that your appreciation of logic might have improved +during your--well, let us say absence; you were not very logical--not +very amenable to reason, formerly." + +"I know you thought so." + +"I did; so did your own legal adviser, by the way. Well, now let me ask +why you are so bitter against me? Why not murder the judge who charged +against you, or the jury that unanimously gave a verdict in our favour? +I was merely an instrument, as were they." + +"It was your devilish trickiness that won the case." + +"That statement is flattering but untrue. The case was its own best +advocate. But you haven't answered the question. Why not murder judge +and jury?" + +"I would gladly do so if I had them in my power. You see, I am +perfectly logical." + +"Quite, quite," said the lawyer. "I am encouraged to proceed. Now of +what did my devilish trickiness rob you?" + +"Of my property, and then of my life." + +"I deny both allegations, but will for the sake of the argument admit +them for the moment. First, as to your property. It was a possession +that might at any moment be jeopardised by the return of Bernard +Heaton." + +"By the _real_ Bernard Heaton--yes." + +"Very well then. As you are now repossessed of the property, and as you +have the outward semblance of Heaton, your rights cannot be questioned. +As far as property is concerned you are now in an unassailable position +where formerly you were in an assailable one. Do you follow me?" + +"Perfectly." + +"We come (second) to the question of life. You then occupied a body +frail, bent, and diseased, a body which, as events showed, gave way +under exceptional excitement. You are now in a body strong and healthy, +with apparently a long life before it. You admit the truth of all I +have said on these two points?" + +"I quite admit it." + +"Then to sum up, you are now in a better position--infinitely--both as +regards life and property, than the one from which my malignity-- +ingenuity I think was your word--ah, yes--trickiness--thanks--removed +you. Now why cut your career short? Why murder _me?_ Why not live +out your life, under better conditions, in luxury and health, and thus +be completely revenged on Bernard Heaton? If you are logical, now is +the time to show it." + +Allen rose slowly, holding the pistol in his right hand. + +"You miserable scoundrel!" he cried. "You pettifogging lawyer--tricky +to the last! How gladly you would throw over your friend to prolong +your own wretched existence! Do you think you are now talking to a +biased judge and a susceptible, brainless jury? Revenged on Heaton? I +_am_ revenged on him already. But part of my vengeance involves +your death. Are you ready for it?" + +Allen pointed the revolver at Grey, who had now also risen, his face +ashen. He kept his eyes fastened on the man he believed to be mad. His +hand crept along the wall. There was intense silence between them. +Allen did not fire. Slowly the lawyer's hand moved towards the electric +button. At last he felt the ebony rim and his fingers quickly covered +it. In the stillness, the vibrating ring of an electric bell somewhere +below was audible. Then the sharp crack of the revolver suddenly split +the silence. The lawyer dropped on one knee, holding his arm in the air +as if to ward off attack. Again the revolver rang out, and Grey plunged +forward on his face. The other five shots struck a lifeless body. + +A stratum of blue smoke hung breast high in the room as if it were the +departing soul of the man who lay motionless on the floor. Outside were +excited voices, and some one flung himself ineffectually against the +stout locked door. + +Allen crossed the room and, turning the key, flung open the door. "I +have murdered your master," he said, handing the revolver butt forward +to the nearest man. "I give myself up. Go and get an officer." + + + + +OVER THE STELVIO PASS. + + +There is no question about it, Tina Lenz was a flirt, as she had a +perfect right to be, living as she did on the romantic shores of Como, +celebrated in song, story, and drama as the lover's blue lake. Tina had +many admirers, and it was just like her perversity to favor the one to +whom her father most objected. Pietro, as the father truly said, was a +beggarly Italian driver, glad of the few francs he got from the +travellers he took over the humble Maloga to the Engadine, or over the +elevated Stelvio to the Tyrol, the lowest and the highest passes in +Europe. It was a sad blow to the hopes as well as the family pride of +old Lenz when Tina defiantly announced her preference for the driver of +the Zweispanner. Old Lenz came of a long and distinguished line of +Swiss hotel-keepers, noted for the success with which they squeezed the +last attainable centime from the reluctant traveller. It was bad enough +that he had no son to inherit his justly celebrated hotel +(_pension_ rates for a stay of not less than eight days), but he +hoped for a son-in-law, preferably of Swiss extraction, to whom he +might, in his old age, hand over the lucrative profession of +deferentially skinning the wealthy Englishman. And now Tina had +deliberately chosen a reckless, unstable Italian who would, in a short +time, scatter to the winds the careful accumulation of years. + +"Pietro, the scoundrel, will not have one piastra of my money," cried +the old man wrathfully, dropping into Italian as he was speaking about +a native of Italy. + +"No, I shall see that he doesn't," said the girl. "I shall hold the +purse, and he must earn what he spends." + +"But if you marry him, you will not have any of it." + +"Oh yes, I shall, papa," said Tina confidently; "you have no one else +to leave it to. Besides, you are not old, and you will be reconciled to +our marriage long before there is any question of leaving money." + +"Don't be so sure of that," returned the hotel-keeper, much mollified, +because he was old and corpulent, and red in the face. + +He felt that he was no match for his daughter, and that she would +likely have her own way in the long run, but he groaned when he thought +of Pietro as proprietor of the prosperous _pension_. Tina insisted +that she would manage the hotel on the strictest principles of her +ancestors, and that she would keep Pietro lounging about the place as a +picturesque ornament to attract sentimental visitors, who seemed to see +some unaccountable beauty about the lake and its surroundings. + +Meanwhile Landlord Lenz promptly discharged Pietro, and cursed the day +and hour he had first engaged him. He informed the picturesque young +man that if he caught him talking to his daughter he would promptly +have him arrested for some little thefts from travellers of which he +had been guilty, although the landlord had condoned them at the time of +discovery, probably because he had a fellow-feeling in the matter, and +saw the making of a successful hotel proprietor in the Zweispanner +driver. Pietro, on his part, to make things pleasant all round, swore +that on the first favourable opportunity he would run six inches of +knife into the extensive corporation of the landlord, hoping in that +length of steel to reach a vital spot. The ruddy face of old Lenz paled +at this threat, for the Swiss are a peace-loving people, and he told +his daughter sadly that she was going to bring her father's grey hairs +in sorrow to the grave through the medium of her lover's stiletto. This +feat, however, would have been difficult to perform, as the girl +flippantly pointed out to him, for the old man was as bald as the +smooth round top of the Ortler; nevertheless, she spoke to her lover +about it, and told him frankly that if there was any knife practice in +that vicinity he need never come to see her again. So the young man +with the curly black hair and the face of an angel, swallowed his +resentment against his desired father-in-law, and promised to behave +himself. He secured a position as driver at another hotel, for the +season was brisk, and he met Tina when he could, at the bottom of the +garden overlooking the placid lake, he on one side of the stone wall, +she on the other. + +If Landlord Lenz knew of these meetings he did not interfere; perhaps +he was frightened of Pietro's stiletto, or perhaps he feared his +daughter's tongue; nevertheless, the stars in their courses were +fighting for the old man. Tina was naturally of a changeable +disposition, and now that all opposition had vanished, she began to +lose interest in Pietro. He could talk of little else than horses, and +interesting as such conversation undoubtedly is, it palls upon a girl +of eighteen leaning over a stone wall in the golden evening light that +hovers above Como. There are other subjects, but that is neither here +nor there, as Pietro did not recognise the fact, and, unfortunately for +him, there happened to come along a member of the great army of the +unemployed who did. + +He came that way just in the nick of time, and proud as old Lenz was of +his _pension_ and its situation, it was not the unrivalled +prospect (as stated in the hotel advertisements) that stopped him. It +was the sight of a most lovely girl leaning over the stone wall at the +foot of the garden, gazing down at the lake and singing softly to +herself. + +"By Jove!" said young Standish, "she looks as if she were waiting for +her lover." Which, indeed, was exactly what Tina was doing, and it +augured ill for the missing man that she was not the least impatient +at his delay. + +"The missing lover is a defect in the landscape which ought to be +supplied," murmured young Standish as he unslung his knapsack, which, +like that of the late John Brown, was strapped upon his back. He +entered the _pension_ and inquired the rates. Old Lenz took one +glance at the knickerbockers, and at once asked twice as much as he +would have charged a native. Standish agreed to the terms with that +financial recklessness characteristic of his island, and the old man +regretted he had not asked a third more. + +"But never mind," he said to himself as the newly arrived guest +disappeared to his room, "I shall make it up on the extras." + +With deep regret it must be here admitted that young Standish was an +artist. Artists are met with so often in fiction that it is a matter of +genuine grief to have to deal with one in a narrative of fact, but it +must be remembered that artists flock as naturally to the lake of Como +as stock-brokers to the Exchange, and in setting down an actual +statement of occurrences in that locality the unfortunate writer finds +himself confronted with artists at every turn. Standish was an artist +in water-colours, but whether that is a mitigation or an aggravation of +the original offense the relater knoweth not. He speedily took to +painting Tina amidst various combinations of lake and mountain scenery. +Tina over the garden wall as he first saw her; Tina under an arch of +roses; Tina in one of the clumsy but picturesque lake boats. He did his +work very well, too. Old Landlord Lenz had the utmost contempt for this +occupation, as a practical man should, but he was astonished one day +when a passing traveller offered an incredible sum for one of the +pictures that stood on the hall table. Standish was not to be found, +but the old man, quite willing to do his guest a good turn, sold the +picture. The young man, instead of being overjoyed at his luck, told +the landlord, with the calm cheek of an artist, that he would overlook +the matter this time, but it must not occur again. He had sold the +picture, added Standish, for about one-third its real value. There was +something in the quiet assurance of the youth that more than his words +convinced old Lenz of the truth of his statement. Manner has much to do +with getting a well-told lie believed. The inn-keeper's respect for the +young man went up to the highest attainable point, and he had seen so +many artists, too. But if such prices were obtained for a picture +dashed off in a few hours, the hotel business wasn't in it as a money- +making venture. + +It must be confessed that it was a great shock to young Standish when +he found that the fairy-like Tina was the daughter of the gross old +stupid keeper of the inn. It would have been so nice if she had +happened to be a princess, and the fact would have worked in well with +the marble terrace overlooking the lake. It seemed out of keeping +entirely that she should be any relation to old money-making Lenz. Of +course he had no more idea of marrying the girl than he had of buying +the lake of Como and draining it; still, it was such a pity that she +was not a countess at least; there were so many of them in Italy too, +surely one might have been spared for that _pension_ when a man +had to stay eight days to get the lowest rates. Nevertheless, Tina did +make a pretty water-colour sketch. But a man who begins sliding down a +hill such as there is around Como, never can tell exactly where he is +going to bring up. He may stop halfway, or he may go head first into +the lake. If it were to be set down here that within a certain space of +time Standish did not care one continental objurgation whether Tina was +a princess or a char-woman, the statement would simply not be believed, +because we all know that Englishmen are a cold, calculating race of +men, with long side whiskers and a veil round their hats when they +travel. + +It is serious when a young fellow sketches in water-colours a charming +sylph-like girl in various entrancing attitudes; it is disastrous when +she teaches him a soft flowing language like the Italian; but it is +absolute destruction when he teaches her the English tongue and watches +her pretty lips strive to surround words never intended for the vocal +resources of a foreigner. As all these influences were brought to bear +on Walter Standish, what chance did the young fellow have? Absolutely +as little as has the un-roped man who misses his footing on the +Matterhorn. + +And Tina? Poor little girl, she was getting paid back with a vengeance +for all the heart-aches she had caused--Italian, German, or Swiss +variety. She fell helplessly in love with the stalwart Englishman, and +realised that she had never known before what the word meant. Bitterly +did she regret the sham battles of the heart that she had hitherto +engaged in. Standish took it so entirely for granted that he was the +first to touch her lips (in fact she admitted as much herself) that she +was in daily, hourly terror lest he should learn the truth. Meanwhile +Pietro unburdened his neglected soul of strange oily imprecations that +might have sounded to the uneducated ear of Standish like mellifluous +benedictions, notwithstanding the progress he was making in Italian +under Tina's tuition. However, Pietro had one panacea for all his woes, +and that he proceeded to sharpen carefully. + +One evening Standish was floating dreamily through the purple haze, +thinking about Tina of course, and wondering how her piquant archness +and Southern beauty would strike his sober people at home. Tina was +very quick and adaptable, and he had no doubt she could act to +perfection any part he assigned to her, so he was in doubt whether to +introduce her as a remote connexion of the reigning family of Italy, or +merely as a countess in her own right. It would be quite easy to +ennoble the long line of hotel-keepers by the addition of "di" or "de" +or some such syllable to the family name. He must look up the right +combination of letters; he knew it began with "d." Then the +_pension_ could become dimly "A castle on the Italian lakes, you +know"; in fact, he would close up the _pension_ as soon as he had +the power, or change it to a palace. He knew that most of the castles +in the Tyrol and many of the palaces of Italy had become boarding- +houses, so why not reverse the process? He was sure that certain +furnishing houses in London could do it, probably on the hire system. +He knew a fashionable morning paper that was in the habit of publishing +personal items at so much a line, and he thought the following would +read well and be worth its cost:-- + +"Mr. Walter Standish, of St. John's Wood, and his wife, the Comtessa di +Lenza, are spending the summer in the lady's ancestral home, the +Palazzio di Lenza, on the lake of Como." + +This bright vision pleased him for a moment, until he thought it would +be just his luck for some acquaintance to happen along who remembered +the Palazzio Lenza when it was the Pension Lenz--rates on application. +He wished a landslide would carry buildings, grounds, and everything +else away to some unrecognisable spot a few hundred feet down the +mountain. + +Thus it was that young Standish floated along with his head in the +clouds, swinging his cane in the air, when suddenly he was brought +sharply down to earth again. A figure darted out from behind a tree, an +instinct rather than reason caused the artist to guard himself by +throwing up his left arm. He caught the knife thrust in the fleshy part +of it, and the pain was like the red-hot sting of a gigantic wasp. It +flashed through his brain then that the term cold steel was a misnomer. +The next moment his right hand had brought down the heavy knob of his +stout stick on the curly head of the Italian, and Pietro fell like a +log at his feet. Standish set his teeth, and as gently as possible drew +the stiletto from his arm, wiping its blade on the clothes of the +prostrate man. He thought it better to soil Pietro's suit than his own, +which was newer and cleaner; besides, he held, perhaps with justice, +that the Italian being the aggressor should bear any disadvantages +arising from the attack. Finally, feeling wet at the elbow, he put the +stiletto in his pocket and hurried off to the hotel. + +[Illustration: WIPING ITS BLADE ON THE CLOTHES OF THE PROSTRATE MAN] + +Tina fell back against the wall with a cry at the sight of the blood. +She would have fainted, but something told her that she would be well +advised to keep her senses about her at that moment. + +"I can't imagine why he should attack me," said Standish, as he bared +his arm to be bandaged. "I never saw him before, and I have had no +quarrel with any one. It could not have been robbery, for I was too +near the hotel. I cannot understand it." + +"Oh," began old Lenz, "it's easy enough to account for it. He----" + +Tina darted one look at her father that went through him as the blade +had gone through the outstretched arm. His mouth closed like a steel +trap. + +"Please go for Doctor Zandorf, papa," she said sweetly, and the old man +went. "These Italians," she continued to Standish, "are always +quarrelling. The villain mistook you for some one else in the dusk." + +"Ah, that's it, very likely. If the rascal has returned to his senses, +he probably regrets having waked up the wrong passenger." + +When the authorities searched for Pietro they found that he had +disappeared as absolutely as though Standish had knocked him through +into China. When he came to himself and rubbed his head, he saw the +blood on the road, and he knew his stroke had gone home somewhere. The +missing knife would be evidence against him, so he thought it safer to +get on the Austrian side of the fence. Thus he vanished over the +Stelvio pass, and found horses to drive on the other side. + +The period during which Standish loafed around that lovely garden with +his arm in a sling, waited upon assiduously and tenderly by Tina, will +always be one of the golden remembrances of the Englishman's life. It +was too good to last for ever, and so they were married when it came to +an end. The old man would still have preferred a Swiss innkeeper for a +son-in-law, yet the Englishman was better than the beggarly Italian, +and possibly better than the German who had occupied a place in Tina's +regards before the son of sunny Italy appeared on the scene. That is +one trouble in the continental hotel business; there is such a +bewildering mixture of nationalities. + +Standish thought it best not to go back to England at once, as he had +not quite settled to his own satisfaction how the _pension_ was to +be eliminated from the affair and transformed into a palace. He knew a +lovely and elevated castle in the Tyrol near Meran where they accepted +passers-by in an unobtrusive sort of way, and there, he resolved, they +would make their plans. So the old man gave them a great set-out with +which to go over the pass, privately charging the driver to endeavour +to get a return fare from Meran so as to, partly at least, cover the +outlay. The carriage was drawn by five horses, one on each side of the +pole and three in front. They rested the first night at Bormeo, and +started early next day for over the pass, expecting to dine at +Franzenshöhe within sight of the snowy Ortler. + +It was late in the season and the weather was slightly uncertain, but +they had a lovely Italian forenoon for going up the wonderful, zigzag +road on the western side of the pass. At the top there was a slight +sprinkling of snow, and clouds hung over the lofty Ortler group of +peaks. As they got lower down a steady persistent rain set in, and they +were glad to get to the shelter and warmth of the oblong stone inn at +Franzenshöhe, where a good dinner awaited them. After dinner the +weather cleared somewhat, but the clouds still obscured the tops of the +mountains, and the roads were slippery. Standish regretted this, for he +wanted to show his bride the splendid scenery of the next five miles +where the road zigzags down to Trefoi, each elbow of the dizzy +thoroughfare overhanging the most awful precipices. It was a dangerous +bit of road, and even with only two horses, requires a cool and +courageous driver with a steady head. They were the sole guests at the +inn, and it needed no practised eye to see that they were a newly +married couple. The news spread abroad, and every lounger about the +place watched them get into their carriage and drive away, one hind +wheel of the carriage sliding on its skid, and all breaks on. + +At the first turning Standish started, for the carriage went around it +with dangerous speed. The whip cracked, too, like a succession of +pistol shots, which was unusual going down the mountain. He said +nothing to alarm his bride, but thought that the driver had taken on +more wine than was good for him at the inn. At the second turn the +wheel actually slid against and bumped the stone post that was the sole +guard from the fearful precipice below. The sound and shock sent a cold +chill up the back of Standish, for he knew the road well and there were +worse places to come. His arm was around his wife, and he withdrew it +gently so as not to alarm her. As he did so she looked up and shrieked. +Following her glance to the front window of their closed carriage, +where the back of the driver is usually to be seen, he saw pressed +against the glass the distorted face of a demon. The driver was +kneeling on his seat instead of sitting on it, and was peering in at +them, the reins drawn over his shoulder, and his back to the horses. It +seemed to Standish that the light of insanity gleamed from his eyes, +but Tina saw in them the revengeful glare of the _vendetti_; the +rage of the disappointed lover. + +"My God! that's not our driver," cried Standish, who did not recognise +the man who had once endeavoured to kill him. He sprang up and tried to +open the front window, but the driver yelled out-- + +"Open that window if you dare, and I'll drive you over here before you +get halfway down. Sit still, and I take you as far as the Weisse Knott. +That's where you are going over. There you'll have a drop of a mile +(_un miglio_)." + +"Turn to your horses, you scoundrel," shouted Standish, "or I'll break +every bone in your body!" + +"The horses know the way, Signor Inglese, and all our bones are going +to be broken, yours and your sweet bride's as well as mine." + +The driver took the whip and fired off a fusilade of cracks overhead, +beside them, and under them. The horses dashed madly down the slope, +almost sending the carriage over at the next turn. Standish looked at +his wife. She had apparently fainted, but in reality had merely closed +her eyes to shut out the horrible sight of Pietro's face. Standish +thrust his arm out of the open window, unfastened the door, and at the +risk of his neck jumped out. Tina shrieked when she opened her eyes and +found herself alone. Pietro now pushed in the frame of the front window +and it dropped out of sight, leaving him face to face with her, with no +glass between them. "Now that your fine Inglese is gone, Tina, we are +going to be married; you promised it, you know." + +"You coward," she hissed; "I'd rather die his wife than live yours." + +"You're plucky, little Tina, you always were. But he left you. I +wouldn't have left you. I won't leave you. We'll be married at the +chapel of the Three Holy Springs, a mile below the Weisse Knott; we'll +fly through the air to it, Tina, and our bed will be at the foot of +the Madatseh Glacier. We will go over together near where the man threw +his wife down. They have marked the spot with a marble slab, but they +will put a bigger one for us, Tina, for there's two of us." + +Tina crouched in the corner of the carriage and watched the face of the +Italian as if she were fascinated. She wanted to jump out as her +husband had done, but she was afraid to move, feeling certain that if +she attempted to escape Pietro would pounce down upon her. He looked +like some wild beast crouching for a spring. All at once she saw +something drop from the sky on the footboard of the carriage. Then she +heard her husband's voice ring out-- + +"Here, you young fool, we've had enough of this nonsense." + +The next moment Pietro fell to the road, propelled by a vigorous kick. +His position lent itself to treatment of that kind. The carriage gave a +bump as it passed over Pietro's leg, and then Tina thinks that she +fainted in earnest, for the next thing she knew the carriage was +standing still, and Standish was rubbing her hands and calling her +pleasant names. She smiled wanly at him. + +"How in the world did you catch up to the carriage and it going so +fast?" she asked, a woman's curiosity prompting her first words. + +"Oh, the villain forgot about the short cuts. As I warned him, he ought +to have paid more attention to what was going on outside. I'm going +back now to have a talk with him. He's lying on the road at the upper +end of this slope." + +Tina was instantly herself again. + +"No, dearest," she said caressingly; "you mustn't go back. He probably +has a knife." + +"I'm not afraid." + +"No, but I am, and you mustn't leave me." + +"I would like to tie him up in a hard knot and take him down to +civilisation bumping behind the carriage as luggage. I think he's the +fellow who knifed me, and I want to find out what his game is." + +Here Tina unfortunately began to faint again. She asked for wine in a +far-off voice, and Standish at once forgot all about the demon driver. +He mounted the box and took the reins himself. He got wine at the +little cabin of the Weisse Knott, a mile or two farther down. Tina, who +had revived amazingly, probably on account of the motion of the +carriage, shuddered as she looked into the awful gulf and saw five tiny +toy houses in the gloom nearly a mile below. + +"That," said Standish, "is the chapel of the Three Holy Springs. We +will go there to-night, if you like, from Trefoi." + +"No, no!" cried Tina, shivering. "Let us get out of the mountains at +once." + +At Trefoi they found their own driver awaiting them. + +"What the devil are you doing here, and how did you get here?" hotly +inquired Standish. + +"By the short cuts," replied the bewildered man. "Pietro, one of +master's old drivers, wanted--I don't know why--to drive you as far as +Trefoi. Where is he, sir?" + +"I don't know," said Standish. "We saw nothing of him. He must have +been pushed off the box by the madman. Here, jump up and let us get +on." + +Tina breathed again. That crisis was over. + +They live very happily together, for Tina is a very tactful little +woman. + + + + +THE HOUR AND THE MAN. + + +Prince Lotarno rose slowly to his feet, casting one malignant glance at +the prisoner before him. + +"You have heard," he said, "what is alleged against you. Have you +anything to say in your defence?" + +The captured brigand laughed. + +"The time for talk is past," he cried. "This has been a fine farce of a +fair trial. You need not have wasted so much time over what you call +evidence. I knew my doom when I fell into your hands. I killed your +brother; you will kill me. You have proven that I am a murderer and a +robber; I could prove the same of you if you were bound hand and foot +in my camp as I am bound in your castle. It is useless for me to tell +you that I did not know he was your brother, else it would not have +happened, for the small robber always respects the larger and more +powerful thief. When a wolf is down, the other wolves devour him. I am +down, and you will have my head cut off, or my body drawn asunder in +your courtyard, whichever pleases your Excellency best. It is the +fortune of war, and I do not complain. When I say that I am sorry I +killed your brother, I merely mean I am sorry you were not the man who +stood in his shoes when the shot was fired. You, having more men than I +had, have scattered my followers and captured me. You may do with me +what you please. My consolation is that the killing me will not bring +to life the man who is shot, therefore conclude the farce that has +dragged through so many weary hours. Pronounce my sentence. I am +ready." + +There was a moment's silence after the brigand had ceased speaking. +Then the Prince said, in low tones, but in a voice that made itself +heard in every part of the judgment-hall-- + +"Your sentence is that on the fifteenth of January you shall be taken +from your cell at four o'clock, conducted to the room of execution, and +there beheaded." + +The Prince hesitated for a moment as he concluded the sentence, and +seemed about to add something more, but apparently he remembered that a +report of the trial was to go before the King, whose representative was +present, and he was particularly desirous that nothing should go on the +records which savoured of old-time malignity; for it was well known +that his Majesty had a particular aversion to the ancient forms of +torture that had obtained heretofore in his kingdom. Recollecting this, +the Prince sat down. + +The brigand laughed again. His sentence was evidently not so gruesome +as he had expected. He was a man who had lived all his life in the +mountains, and he had had no means of knowing that more merciful +measures had been introduced into the policy of the Government. + +"I will keep the appointment," he said jauntily, "unless I have a more +pressing engagement." + +The brigand was led away to his cell. "I hope," said the Prince, "that +you noted the defiant attitude of the prisoner." + +"I have not failed to do so, your Excellency," replied the ambassador. + +"I think," said the Prince, "that under the circumstances, his +treatment has been most merciful." + +"I am certain, your Excellency," said the ambassador, "that his Majesty +will be of the same opinion. For such a miscreant, beheading is too +easy a death." + +The Prince was pleased to know that the opinion of the ambassador +coincided so entirely with his own. + +The brigand Toza was taken to a cell in the northern tower, where, by +climbing on a bench, he could get a view of the profound valley at the +mouth of which the castle was situated. He well knew its impregnable +position, commanding as it did, the entrance to the valley. He knew +also that if he succeeded in escaping from the castle he was hemmed in +by mountains practically unscalable, while the mouth of the gorge was +so well guarded by the castle that it was impossible to get to the +outer world through that gateway. Although he knew the mountains well, +he realised that, with his band scattered, many killed, and the others +fugitives, he would have a better chance of starving to death in the +valley than of escaping out of it. He sat on the bench and thought over +the situation. Why had the Prince been so merciful? He had expected +torture, whereas he was to meet the easiest death that a man could die. +He felt satisfied there was something in this that he could not +understand. Perhaps they intended to starve him to death, now that the +appearance of a fair trial was over. Things could be done in the +dungeon of a castle that the outside world knew nothing of. His fears +of starvation were speedily put to an end by the appearance of his +gaoler with a better meal than he had had for some time; for during the +last week he had wandered a fugitive in the mountains until captured by +the Prince's men, who evidently had orders to bring him in alive. Why +then were they so anxious not to kill him in a fair fight if he were +now to be merely beheaded? + +"What is your name?" asked Toza of his gaoler. + +"I am called Paulo," was the answer. + +"Do you know that I am to be beheaded on the fifteenth of the month?" + +"I have heard so," answered the man. + +"And do you attend me until that time?" + +"I attend you while I am ordered to do so. If you talk much I may be +replaced." + +"That, then, is a tip for silence, good Paulo," said the brigand. "I +always treat well those who serve me well; I regret, therefore, that I +have no money with me, and so cannot recompense you for good service." + +"That is not necessary," answered Paulo. "I receive my recompense from +the steward." + +"Ah, but the recompense of the steward and the recompense of a brigand +chief are two very different things. Are there so many pickings in your +position that you are rich, Paulo?" + +"No; I am a poor man." + +"Well, under certain circumstances, I could make you rich." + +Paulo's eyes glistened, but he made no direct reply. Finally he said, +in a frightened whisper, "I have tarried too long, I am watched. By- +and-by the vigilance will be relaxed, and then we may perhaps talk of +riches." + +With that the gaoler took his departure. The brigand laughed softly to +himself. "Evidently," he said, "Paulo is not above the reach of a +bribe. We will have further talk on the subject when the watchfulness +is relaxed." + +And so it grew to be a question of which should trust the other. The +brigand asserted that hidden in the mountains he had gold and jewels, +and these he would give to Paulo if he could contrive his escape from +the castle. + +"Once free of the castle, I can soon make my way out of the valley," +said the brigand. + +"I am not so sure of that," answered Paulo. "The castle is well +guarded, and when it is discovered that you have escaped, the alarm- +bell will be rung, and after that not a mouse can leave the valley +without the soldiers knowing it." + +The brigand pondered on the situation for some time, and at last said, +"I know the mountains well." + +"Yes;" said Paulo, "but you are one man, and the soldiers of the Prince +are many. Perhaps," he added, "if it were made worth my while, I could +show you that I know the mountains even better than you do." + +"What do you mean?" asked the brigand, in an excited whisper. + +"Do you know the tunnel?" inquired Paulo, with an anxious glance +towards the door. + +"What tunnel? I never heard of any." + +"But it exists, nevertheless; a tunnel through the mountains to the +world outside." + +"A tunnel through the mountains? Nonsense!" cried the brigand. "I +should have known of it if one existed. The work would be too great to +accomplish." + +"It was made long before your day, or mine either. If the castle had +fallen, then those who were inside could escape through the tunnel. Few +know of the entrance; it is near the waterfall up the valley, and is +covered with brushwood. What will you give me to place you at the +entrance of that tunnel?" + +The brigand looked at Paulo sternly for a few moments, then he answered +slowly, "Everything I possess." + +"And how much is that?" asked Paulo. + +"It is more than you will ever earn by serving the Prince." + +"Will you tell me where it is before I help you to escape from the +castle and lead you to the tunnel?" + +"Yes," said Toza. + +"Will you tell me now?" + +"No; bring me a paper to-morrow, and I will draw a plan showing you how +to get it." + +[Illustration: "I WILL DRAW A PLAN"] + +When his gaoler appeared, the day after Toza had given the plan, the +brigand asked eagerly, "Did you find the treasure?" + +"I did," said Paulo quietly. + +"And will you keep your word?--will you get me out of the castle?" + +"I will get you out of the castle and lead you to the entrance of the +tunnel, but after that you must look to yourself." + +"Certainly," said Toza, "that was the bargain. Once out of this +accursed valley, I can defy all the princes in Christendom. Have you a +rope?" + +"We shall need none," said the gaoler. "I will come for you at +midnight, and take you out of the castle by the secret passage; then +your escape will not be noticed until morning." + +At midnight his gaoler came and led Toza through many a tortuous +passage, the two men pausing now and then, holding their breaths +anxiously as they came to an open court through which a guard paced. At +last they were outside of the castle at one hour past midnight. + +The brigand drew a long breath of relief when he was once again out in +the free air. + +"Where is your tunnel?" he asked, in a somewhat distrustful whisper of +his guide. + +"Hush!" was the low answer. "It is only a short distance from the +castle, but every inch is guarded, and we cannot go direct; we must +make for the other side of the valley and come to it from the north." + +"What!" cried Toza in amazement, "traverse the whole valley for a +tunnel a few yards away?" + +"It is the only safe plan," said Paulo. "If you wish to go by the +direct way, I must leave you to your own devices." + +"I am in your hands," said the brigand with a sigh. "Take me where you +will, so long as you lead me to the entrance of the tunnel." + +They passed down and down around the heights on which the castle stood, +and crossed the purling little river by means of stepping-stones. Once +Toza fell into the water, but was rescued by his guide. There was still +no alarm from the castle as daylight began to break. As it grew more +light they both crawled into a cave which had a low opening difficult +to find, and there Paulo gave the brigand his breakfast, which he took +from a little bag slung by a strap across his shoulder. + +"What are we going to do for food if we are to be days between here and +the tunnel?" asked Toza. + +"Oh, I have arranged for that, and a quantity of food has been placed +where we are most likely to want it. I will get it while you sleep." + +"But if you are captured, what am I to do?" asked Toza. "Can you not +tell me now how to find the tunnel, as I told you how to find the +treasure?" + +Paulo pondered over this for a moment, and then said, "Yes; I think it +would be the safer way. You must follow the stream until you reach the +place where the torrent from the east joins it. Among the hills there +is a waterfall, and halfway up the precipice on a shelf of rock there +are sticks and bushes. Clear them away, and you will find the entrance +to the tunnel. Go through the tunnel until you come to a door, which is +bolted on this side. When you have passed through, you will see the end +of your journey." + +Shortly after daybreak the big bell of the castle began to toll, and +before noon the soldiers were beating the bushes all around them. They +were so close that the two men could hear their voices from their +hiding-place, where they lay in their wet clothes, breathlessly +expecting every moment to be discovered. + +The conversation of two soldiers, who were nearest them, nearly caused +the hearts of the hiding listeners to stop beating. + +"Is there not a cave near here?" asked one. "Let us search for it!" + +"Nonsense," said the other. "I tell you that they could not have come +this far already." + +"Why could they not have escaped when the guard changed at midnight?" +insisted the first speaker. + +"Because Paulo was seen crossing the courtyard at midnight, and they +could have had no other chance of getting away until just before +daybreak." + +This answer seemed to satisfy his comrade, and the search was given up +just as they were about to come upon the fugitives. It was a narrow +escape, and, brave as the robber was, he looked pale, while Paulo was +in a state of collapse. + +Many times during the nights and days that followed, the brigand and +his guide almost fell into the hands of the minions of the Prince. +Exposure, privation, semi-starvation, and, worse than all, the +alternate wrenchings of hope and fear, began to tell upon the stalwart +frame of the brigand. Some days and nights of cold winter rain added to +their misery. They dare not seek shelter, for every habitable place was +watched. + +When daylight overtook them on their last night's crawl through the +valley, they were within a short distance of the waterfall, whose low +roar now came soothingly down to them. + +"Never mind the daylight," said Toza; "let us push on and reach the +tunnel." + +"I can go no farther," moaned Paulo; "I am exhausted." + +"Nonsense," cried Toza; "it is but a short distance." + +"The distance is greater than you think; besides, we are in full view +of the castle. Would you risk everything now that the game is nearly +won? You must not forget that the stake is your head; and remember what +day this is." + +"What day is it?" asked the brigand, turning on his guide. + +"It is the fifteenth of January, the day on which you were to be +executed." + +Toza caught his breath sharply. Danger and want had made a coward of +him and he shuddered now, which he had not done when he was on his +trial and condemned to death. + +"How do you know it is the fifteenth?" he asked at last. + +Paulo held up his stick, notched after the method of Robinson Crusoe. + +"I am not so strong as you are, and if you will let me rest here until +the afternoon, I am willing to make a last effort, and try to reach the +entrance of the tunnel." + +"Very well," said Toza shortly. + +As they lay there that forenoon neither could sleep. The noise of the +waterfall was music to the ears of both; their long toilsome journey +was almost over. + +[Illustration: HE THREW ASIDE BUSHES, BRAMBLES AND LOGS] + +"What did you do with the gold that you found in the mountains?" asked +Toza suddenly. + +Paulo was taken unawares, and answered, without thinking, "I left it +where it was. I will get it after." + +The brigand said nothing, but that remark condemned Paulo to death. +Toza resolved to murder him as soon as they were well out of the +tunnel, and get the gold himself. + +They left their hiding-place shortly before twelve o'clock, but their +progress was so slow, crawling, as they had to do, up the steep side of +the mountain, under cover of bushes and trees, that it was well after +three when they came to the waterfall, which they crossed, as best they +could, on stones and logs. + +"There," said Toza, shaking himself, "that is our last wetting. Now for +the tunnel!" + +The rocky sides of the waterfall hid them from view of the castle, but +Paulo called the brigand's attention to the fact that they could be +easily seen from the other side of the valley. + +"It doesn't matter now," said Toza; "lead the way as quickly as you can +to the mouth of the cavern." + +Paulo scrambled on until he reached a shelf about halfway up the +cataract; he threw aside bushes, brambles, and logs, speedily +disclosing a hole large enough to admit a man. + +"You go first," said Paulo, standing aside. + +"No," answered Toza; "you know the way, and must go first. You cannot +think that I wish to harm you--I am completely unarmed. + +"Nevertheless," said Paulo, "I shall not go first. I did not like the +way you looked at me when I told you the gold was still in the hills. I +admit that I distrust you." + +"Oh, very well," laughed Toza, "it doesn't really matter." And he +crawled into the hole in the rock, Paulo following him. + +Before long the tunnel enlarged so that a man could stand upright. + +"Stop!" said Paulo; "there is the door near here." + +"Yes," said the robber, "I remember that you spoke of a door," adding, +however, "What is it for, and why is it locked?" + +"It is bolted on this side," answered Paulo, "and we shall have no +difficulty in opening it." + +"What is it for?" repeated the brigand. + +"It is to prevent the current of air running through the tunnel and +blowing away the obstruction at this end," said the guide. + +"Here it is," said Toza, as he felt down its edge for the bolt. + +The bolt drew back easily, and the door opened. The next instant the +brigand was pushed rudely into a room, and he heard the bolt thrust +back into its place almost simultaneously with the noise of the closing +door. For a moment his eyes were dazzled by the light. He was in an +apartment blazing with torches held by a dozen men standing about. + +In the centre of the room was a block covered with black cloth, and +beside it stood a masked executioner resting the corner of a gleaming +axe on the black draped block, with his hands crossed over the end of +the axe's handle. + +The Prince stood there surrounded by his ministers. Above his head was +a clock, with the minute hand pointed to the hour of four. + +"You are just in time!" said the Prince grimly; "we are waiting for +you!" + + + + +"AND THE RIGOUR OF THE GAME." + + +Old Mr. Saunders went home with bowed head and angry brow. He had not +known that Dick was in the habit of coming in late, but he had now no +doubt of the fact. He himself went to bed early and slept soundly, as a +man with a good conscience is entitled to do. But the boy's mother must +have known the hours he kept, yet she had said nothing; this made the +matter all the blacker. The father felt that mother and son were +leagued against him. He had been too lenient; now he would go to the +root of things. The young man would speedily change his ways or take +the consequences. There would be no half measures. + +Poor old Mrs. Saunders saw, the moment her husband came in, that there +was a storm brewing, and a wild fear arose in her heart that her boy +was the cause. The first words of the old man settled the question. + +"What time did Richard come in last night?" + +"I--I don't know," she hesitated. "Shuffling" her husband always called +it. She had been a buffer between father and son since Dick was a +child. + +"Why don't you know? Who let him in?" + +She sighed. The secret had long weighed upon her, and she felt it would +come out at some hapless moment. + +"He has a key," she said at last. + +The old man glared in speechless amazement. In his angriest mood he had +never suspected anything so bad as this. + +"A key! How long has he had a key?" + +"About six months. He did not want to disturb us." + +"He is very thoughtful! Where does he spend his nights?" + +"I don't know. He told me he belongs to a club, where he takes some +kind of exercise." + +"Did he tell you he exercised with cards? Did he say it was a gambling +club?" + +"I don't believe it is; I am sure Dick doesn't gamble. Dick is a good +boy, father." + +"A precious lot you know about it, evidently. Do you think his +employer, banker Hammond, has any idea his clerk belongs to a gambling +club?" + +"I am sure I don't know. Is there any thing wrong? Has any one been +speaking to you about Dick?" + +"Yes; and not to his credit." + +"Oh dear!" cried the mother in anguish. "Was it Mr. Hammond?" + +"I have never spoken to Hammond in my life," said the old man, +relenting a little when he saw how troubled his wife was. "No, I +propose to stop this club business before it gets to the banker's ears +that one of his clerks is a nightly attendant there. You will see +Richard when he comes home this evening; tell him I wish to have a word +or two with him to-night. He is to wait for me here. I will be in +shortly after he has had his supper." + +"You will not be harsh with him, father. Remember, he is a young man +now, so please advise and do not threaten. Angry words can do no good." + +"I will do my duty," said the old man, uncompromisingly. + +Gentle Mrs. Saunders sighed--for she well knew the phrase about duty. +It was a sure prelude to domestic trouble. When the old gentleman +undertook to do his duty, he nailed his flag to the mast. + +"See that he waits for me to-night," was the parting shot as the old +man closed the door behind him. + +Mrs. Saunders had had her share of trouble in this world, as every +woman must who lives with a cantankerous man. When she could save her +son a harsh word, or even a blow, she was content to take either +uncomplainingly. The old man's severity had put him out of touch with +his son. Dick sullenly resented his boyhood of continual fear. During +recent years, when fear had gradually diminished and finally +disappeared, he was somewhat troubled to find that the natural +affection, which a son should have for his father, had vanished with +it. He had, on several occasions, made half-hearted attempts at a +better understanding, but these attempts had unfortunately fallen on +inopportune moments, when the old man was not particularly gracious +toward the world in general, and latterly there had been silence +between the two. The young man avoided his father as much as possible; +he would not have remained at home, had it not been for his mother. Her +steady, unwavering affection for him, her belief in him, and the +remembrance of how she had stood up for him, especially when he was in +the wrong, had bound her to him with bonds soft as silk and strong as +steel. He often felt it would be a pleasure to go wrong, merely to +refute his father's ideas regarding the way a child should be brought +up. Yet Dick had a sort of admiration for the old man, whose many good +qualities were somewhat overshadowed by his brutal temper. + +When Richard came home that evening he had his supper alone, as was +usual with him. Mrs. Saunders drew her chair near the table, and while +the meal went on she talked of many things, but avoided the subject +uppermost in her mind, which she postponed until the last moment. +Perhaps after all she would not need to ask him to stay; he might +remain of his own accord. She watched him narrowly as she talked, and +saw with alarm that there was anxiety in his face. Some care was +worrying him, and she yearned to have him confide his trouble to her. +And yet she talked and talked of other things. She noticed that he made +but a poor pretence of eating, and that he allowed her to talk while he +made few replies, and those absent-mindedly. At last he pushed back his +chair with a laugh that sounded forced. + +"Well, mother," he said, "what is it? Is there a row on, or is it +merely looming in the horizon? Has the Lord of Creation----" + +"Hush, Dick, you mustn't talk in that way. There is nothing much the +matter, I hope? I want to speak with you about your club." + +Dick looked sharply at his mother for a moment, then he said: "Well, +what does father want to know about the club? Does he wish to join?" + +"I didn't say your father----" + +"No, you didn't say it; but, my dear mother, you are as transparent as +glass. I can see right through you and away beyond. Now, somebody has +been talking to father about the club, and he is on the war-path. Well, +what does he want to know?" + +"He said it was a gambling club." + +"Right for once." + +"Oh, Dick, is it?" + +"Certainly it is. Most clubs are gambling clubs and drinking clubs. I +don't suppose the True Blues gamble more than others, but I'll bet they +don't gamble any less." + +"Oh, Dick, Dick, I'm sorry to hear that. And, Dick, my darling boy, do +you----" + +"Do I gamble, mother? No, I don't. I know you'll believe me, though the +old man won't. But it's true, nevertheless. I can't afford it, for it +takes money to gamble, and I'm not as rich as old Hammond yet." + +"Oh yes, Dick dear, and that reminds me. Another thing your father +feared was that Mr. Hammond might come to know you were a member of the +club. It might hurt your prospects in the bank," she added, not wishing +to frighten the boy with the threat of the dismissal she felt sure +would follow the revelation. + +Dick threw back his head and roared. For the first time that evening +the lines of care left his brow. Then seeing his mother's look of +incomprehension, he sobered down, repressing his mirth with some +difficulty. + +"Mother," he said at last, "things have changed since father was a boy; +I'm afraid he hardly appreciates how much. The old terrifying relations +between employer and employee do not exist now--at least, that is my +experience." + +"Still if Mr. Hammond came to know that you spent your evenings at----" + +"Mother, listen to me a moment. Mr. Julius Hammond proposed me for +membership in the club--my employer! I should never have thought of +joining if it hadn't been for him. You remember my last raise in +salary? You thought it was for merit, of course, and father thought it +was luck. Well, it was neither--or both, perhaps. Now, this is +confidential and to yourself only. I wouldn't tell it to any one else. +Hammond called me into his private office one afternoon when the bank +was closed, and said, 'Saunders, I want you to join the Athletic Club; +I'll propose you.' I was amazed and told him I couldn't afford it. +'Yes, you can,' he answered. 'I'm going to raise your salary double the +amount of entrance fee and annual. If you don't join I'll cut it down.' +So I joined. I think I should have been a fool if I hadn't." + +"Dick, I never heard of such a thing! What in the world did he want you +to join for?" + +"Well, mother," said Dick, looking at his watch, "that's a long story. +I'll tell it to you some other evening. I haven't time to-night. I must +be off." + +"Oh, Dick, don't go to-night. Please stay at home, for my sake." + +Dick smoothed his mother's grey hair and kissed her on the forehead. +Then he said: "Won't to-morrow night do as well, mother? I can't stay +to-night. I have an appointment at the club." + +"Telegraph to them and put it off. Stay for my sake to-night, Dick. I +never asked you before." + +The look of anxiety came into his face again. + +"Mother, it is impossible, really it is. Please don't ask me again. +Anyhow, I know it is father who wants me to stay, not you. I presume +he's on the duty tack. I think what he has to say will keep till to- +morrow night. If he must work off some of his sentiments on gambling, +let him place his efforts where they are needed--let him tackle Jule +Hammond, but not during business hours." + +"You surely don't mean to say that a respected business man--a banker +like Mr. Hammond--gambles?" + +"Don't I? Why, Hammond's a plunger from Plungerville, if you know what +that means. From nine to three he is the strictest and best business +man in the city. If you spoke to him then of the True Blue Athletic +Club he wouldn't know what you were talking about. But after three +o'clock he'll take any odds you like to offer, from matching pennies to +backing an unknown horse." + +Mrs. Saunders sighed. It was a wicked world into which her boy had to +go to earn his living, evidently. + +"And now, mother, I really must be off. I'll stay at home to-morrow +night and take my scolding like a man. Good-night." + +He kissed her and hurried away before she could say anything more, +leaving her sitting there with folded hands to await, with her +customary patience and just a trifle of apprehension, the coming of her +husband. There was no mistaking the heavy footfall. Mrs. Saunders +smiled sadly as she heard it, remembering that Dick had said once that, +even if he were safe within the gates of Paradise, the sound of his +father's footsteps would make the chills run up his backbone. She had +reproved the levity of the remark at the time, but she often thought of +it, especially when she knew there was trouble ahead--as there usually +was. + +"Where's Richard? Isn't he home yet?" were the old man's first words. + +"He has been home, but he had to go out again. He had an appointment." + +"Did you tell him I wanted to speak with him?" + +"Yes, and he said he would stay home to-morrow night." + +"Did he know what I said to-night?" + +"I'm not sure that I told him you----" + +"Don't shuffle now. He either knew or he did not. Which is it?" + +"Yes, he knew, but he thought it might not be urgent, and he----" + +"That will do. Where is his appointment?" + +"At the club, I think." + +"Ah-h-h!" The old man dwelt on the exclamation as if he had at last +drawn out the reluctant worst. "Did he say when he would be home?" + +"No." + +"Very well. I will wait half-an-hour for him, and if he is not in by +that time I will go to his club and have my talk with him there." + +Old Mr. Saunders sat grimly down with his hat still on, and crossed his +hands over the knob of his stout walking-stick, watching the clock that +ticked slowly against the wall. Under these distressing circumstances +the old woman lost her presence of mind and did the very thing she +should not have done. She should have agreed with him, but instead of +that she opposed the plan and so made it inevitable. It would be a +cruel thing, she said, to shame their son before his friends, to make +him a laughing-stock among his acquaintances. Whatever was to be said +could be said as well to-morrow night as to-night, and that in their +own home, where, at least, no stranger would overhear. As the old man +made no answer but silently watched the clock, she became almost +indignant with him. She felt she was culpable in entertaining even the +suspicion of such a feeling against her lawful husband, but it did seem +to her that he was not acting judiciously towards Dick. She hoped to +turn his resentment from their son to herself, and would have welcomed +any outburst directed against her alone. In this excited state, being +brought, as it were, to bay, she had the temerity to say-- + +"You are wrong about one thing, and you may also be wrong in thinking +Dick--in--in what you think about Dick." + +The old man darted one lowering look at her, and though she trembled, +she welcomed the glance as indicating the success of her red herring. + +"What was I wrong about?" + +"You were wrong--Mr. Hammond knows Dick is a member of the club. He is +a member himself and he insisted Dick should join. That's why he raised +his salary." + +"A likely story! Who told you that?" + +"Dick told me himself." + +"And you believed it, of course!" Saunders laughed in a sneering, cynical +sort of way and resumed his scrutiny of the clock. The old woman gave up +the fight and began to weep silently, hoping, but in vain, to hear the +light step of her son approaching the door. The clock struck the hour; +the old man rose without a word, drew his hat further over his brow, +and left the house. + +Up to the last moment Mrs. Saunders hardly believed her husband would +carry out his threat. Now, when she realised he was determined, she had +one wild thought of flying to the club and warning her son. A moment's +consideration put that idea out of the question. She called the +serving-maid, who came, as it seemed to the anxious woman, with +exasperating deliberation. + +"Jane," she cried, "do you know where the Athletic Club is? Do you know +where Centre Street is?" + +Jane knew neither club nor locality. + +"I want a message taken there to Dick, and it must go quickly. Don't +you think you could run there----" + +"It would be quicker to telegraph, ma'am," said Jane, who was not +anxious to run anywhere. "There's telegraph paper in Mr. Richard's +room, and the office is just round the corner." + +"That's it, Jane; I'm glad you thought of it. Get me a telegraph form. +Do make haste." + +She wrote with a trembling hand, as plainly as she could, so that her +son might have no difficulty in reading:-- + +"_Richard Saunders, Athletic Club, Centre Street_. + +"Your father is coming to see you. He will be at the club before +half-an-hour." + +"There is no need to sign it; he will know his mother's writing," said +Mrs. Saunders, as she handed the message and the money to Jane; and +Jane made no comment, for she knew as little of telegraphing as did her +mistress. Then the old woman, having done her best, prayed that the +telegram might arrive before her husband; and her prayer was answered, +for electricity is more speedy than an old man's legs. + +Meanwhile Mr. Saunders strode along from the suburb to the city. His +stout stick struck the stone pavement with a sharp click that sounded +in the still, frosty, night air almost like a pistol shot. He would +show both his wife and his son that he was not too old to be master in +his own house. He talked angrily to himself as he went along, and was +wroth to find his anger lessening as he neared his destination. Anger +must be very just to hold its own during a brisk walk in evening air +that is cool and sweet. + +Mr. Saunders was somewhat abashed to find the club building a much more +imposing edifice than he had expected. There was no low, groggy +appearance about the True Blue Athletic Club. It was brilliantly lit +from basement to attic. A group of men, with hands in pockets, stood on +the kerb as if waiting for something. There was an air of occasion +about the place. The old man inquired of one of the loafers if that was +the Athletic Club. + +"Yes, it is," was the answer; "are you going in?" + +"I intend to." + +"Are you a member?" + +"No." + +"Got an invitation?" + +"No." + +"Then I suspect you won't go in. We've tried every dodge ourselves." + +The possibility of not getting in had never occurred to the old +gentleman, and the thought that his son, safe within the sacred +precincts of a club, might defy him, flogged his flagging anger and +aroused his dogged determination. + +"I'll try, at least," he said, going up the stone steps. + +The men watched him with a smile on their lips. They saw him push the +electric button, whereupon the door opened slightly. There was a brief, +unheard parley; then the door swung wide open, and, when Mr. Saunders +entered, it shut again. + +"Well, I'm blest!" said the man on the kerb; "I wonder how the old +duffer worked it. I wish I had asked him." None of the rest made any +comment; they were struck dumb with amazement at the success of the old +gentleman, who had even to ask if that were the club. + +When the porter opened the door he repeated one of the questions asked +a moment before by the man on the kerb. + +"Have you an invitation, sir?" + +"No," answered the old man, deftly placing his stick so that the barely +opened door could not be closed until it was withdrawn. "No! I want to +see my son, Richard Saunders. Is he inside?" + +The porter instantly threw open the door. + +"Yes, sir," he said. "They're expecting you, sir. Kindly come this way, +sir." + +The old man followed, wondering at the cordiality of his reception. +There must be some mistake. Expecting him? How could that be! He was +led into a most sumptuous parlour where a cluster of electric lamps in +the ceiling threw a soft radiance around the room. + +"Be seated, sir. I will tell Mr. Hammond that you are here." + +"But--stop a moment. I don't want to see Mr. Hammond. I have nothing to +do with Mr. Hammond. I want to see my son. Is it Mr. Hammond the +banker?" + +"Yes, sir. He told me to bring you in here when you came and to let him +know at once." + +The old man drew his hand across his brow, and ere he could reply the +porter had disappeared. He sat down in one of the exceedingly easy +leather chairs and gazed in bewilderment around the room. The fine +pictures on the wall related exclusively to sporting subjects. A trim +yacht, with its tall, slim masts and towering cloud of canvas at an +apparently dangerous angle, seemed sailing directly at the spectator. +Pugilists, naked to the waists, held their clinched fists in menacing +attitudes. Race-horses, in states of activity and at rest, were +interspersed here and there. In the centre of the room stood a pedestal +of black marble, and upon it rested a huge silver vase encrusted with +ornamentation. The old man did not know that this elaborate specimen of +the silversmith's art was referred to as the "Cup." Some one had hung a +placard on it, bearing, in crudely scrawled letters the words:-- + + "Fare thee well, and if for ever + Still for ever Fare thee well." + +While the old man was wondering what all this meant, the curtain +suddenly parted and there entered an elderly gentleman somewhat +jauntily attired in evening dress with a rose at his buttonhole. +Saunders instantly recognised him as the banker, and he felt a +resentment at what he considered his foppish appearance, realising +almost at the same moment the rustiness of his own clothes, an everyday +suit, not too expensive even when new. + +"How are you, Mr. Saunders?" cried the banker, cordially extending his +hand. "I am very pleased indeed to meet you. We got your telegram, but +thought it best not to give it to Dick. I took the liberty of opening +it myself. You see we can't be too careful about these little details. +I told the porter to look after you and let me know the moment you +came. Of course you are very anxious about your boy." + +"I am," said the old man firmly. "That's why I'm here." + +"Certainly, certainly. So are we all, and I presume I'm the most +anxious man of the lot. Now what you want to know is how he is getting +along?" + +"Yes; I want to know the truth." + +"Well, unfortunately, the truth is about as gloomy as it can be. He's +been going from bad to worse, and no man is more sorry than I am." + +"Do you mean to tell me so?" + +"Yes. There is no use deluding ourselves. Frankly, I have no hope for +him. There is not one chance in ten thousand of his recovering his lost +ground." + +The old man caught his breath, and leaned on his cane for support. He +realised now the hollowness of his previous anger. He had never for a +moment believed the boy was going to the bad. Down underneath his +crustiness was a deep love for his son and a strong faith in him. He +had allowed his old habit of domineering to get the better of him, and +now in searching after a phantom he had suddenly come upon a ghastly +reality. + +"Look here," said the banker, noticing his agitation, "have a drink of +our Special Scotch with me. It is the best there is to be had for +money. We always take off our hats when we speak of the Special in this +club. Then we'll go and see how things are moving." + +As he turned to order the liquor he noticed for the first time the +placard on the cup. + +"Now, who the dickens put that there?" he cried angrily. "There's no +use in giving up before you're thrashed." Saying which, he took off the +placard, tore it up, and threw it into the waste basket. + +"Does Richard drink?" asked the old man huskily, remembering the eulogy +on the Special. + +"Bless you, no. Nor smoke either. No, nor gamble, which is more +extraordinary. No, it's all right for old fellows like you and me to +indulge in the Special--bless it--but a young man who needs to keep his +nerves in order, has to live like a monk. I imagine it's a love affair. +Of course, there's no use asking you: you would be the last one to +know. When he came in to-night I saw he was worried over something. I +asked him what it was, but he declared there was nothing wrong. Here's +the liquor. You'll find that it reaches the spot." + +The old man gulped down some of the celebrated "Special," then he said-- + +"Is it true that you induced my son to join this club?" + +"Certainly. I heard what he could do from a man I had confidence in, +and I said to myself, We must have young Saunders for a member." + +"Then don't you think you are largely to blame?" + +"Oh, if you like to put it that way; yes. Still I'm the chief loser. I +lose ten thousand by him." + +"Good God!" cried the stricken father. + +The banker looked at the old man a little nervously, as if he feared +his head was not exactly right. Then he said: "Of course you will be +anxious to see how the thing ends. Come in with me, but be careful the +boy doesn't catch sight of you. It might rattle him. I'll get you a +place at the back, where you can see without being seen." + +They rose, and the banker led the way on tiptoe between the curtains +into a large room filled with silent men earnestly watching a player at +a billiard table in the centre of the apartment. Temporary seats had +been built around the walls, tier above tier, and every place was +taken. Saunders noticed his son standing near the table in his shirt- +sleeves, with his cue butt downward on the ground. His face was pale +and his lips compressed as he watched his opponent's play like a man +fascinated. Evidently his back was against the wall, and he was +fighting a hopeless fight, but was grit to the last. + +Old Saunders only faintly understood the situation, but his whole +sympathy went out to his boy, and he felt an instinctive hatred of the +confident opponent who was knocking the balls about with a reckless +accuracy which was evidently bringing dismay to the hearts of at least +half the onlookers. + +All at once there was a burst of applause, and the player stood up +straight with a laugh. + +"By Jove!" cried the banker, "he's missed. Didn't put enough stick +behind it. That comes of being too blamed sure. Shouldn't wonder but +there is going to be a turn of luck. Perhaps you'll prove a mascot, Mr. +Saunders." + +He placed the old man on an elevated seat at the back. There was a buzz +of talk as young Saunders stood there chalking his cue, apparently loth +to begin. + +Hammond mixed among the crowd, and spoke eagerly now to one, now to +another. Old Saunders said to the man next him-- + +"What is it all about? Is this an important match?" + +"Important! You bet it is. I suppose there's more money on this game +than was ever put on a billiard match before. Why, Jule Hammond alone +has ten thousand on Saunders." + +The old man gave a quivering sigh of relief. He was beginning to +understand. The ten thousand, then, was not the figures of a +defalcation. + +"Yes," continued the other, "it's the great match for the cup. There's +been a series of games, and this is the culminating one. Prognor has +won one, and Saunders one; now this game settles it. Prognor is the man +of the High Fliers' Club. He's a good one. Saunders won the cup for +this club last year, so they can't kick much if they lose it now. +They've never had a man to touch Saunders in this club since it began. +I doubt if there's another amateur like him in this country. He's a man +to be proud of, although he seemed to go to pieces to-night. They'll +all be down on him to-morrow if they lose their money, although he +don't make anything one way or another. I believe it's the high betting +that's made him so anxious and spoiled his play." + +"Hush, hush!" was whispered around the room. Young Saunders had begun +to play. Prognor stood by with a superior smile on his lips. He was +certain to go out when his turn came again. + +Saunders played very carefully, taking no risks, and his father watched +him with absorbed, breathless interest. Though he knew nothing of the +game he soon began to see how points were made. The boy never looked up +from the green cloth and the balls. He stepped around the table to his +different positions without hurry, and yet without undue tardiness. All +eyes were fastened on his play, and there was not a sound in the large +room but the ever-recurring click-click of the balls. The father +marvelled at the almost magical command the player had over the ivory +spheres. They came and went, rebounded and struck, seemingly because he +willed this result or that. There was a dexterity of touch, and +accurate measurement of force, a correct estimate of angles, a truth of +the eye, and a muscular control that left the old man amazed that the +combination of all these delicate niceties were concentrated in one +person, and that person his own son. + +At last two of the balls lay close together, and the young man, playing +very deftly, appeared to be able to keep them in that position as if he +might go on scoring indefinitely. He went on in this way for some time, +when suddenly the silence was broken by Prognor crying out-- + +"I don't call that billiards. It's baby play." + +Instantly there was an uproar. Saunders grounded his cue on the floor +and stood calmly amidst the storm, his eyes fixed on the green cloth. +There were shouts of "You were not interrupted," "That's for the umpire +to decide," "Play your game, Saunders," "Don't be bluffed." The old man +stood up with the rest, and his natural combativeness urged him to take +part in the fray and call for fair play. The umpire rose and demanded +order. When the tumult had subsided, he sat down. Some of the High +Fliers, however, cried, "Decision! Decision!" + +"There is nothing to decide," said the umpire, severely. "Go on with +your play, Mr. Saunders." + +Then young Saunders did a thing that took away the breath of his +friends. He deliberately struck the balls with his cue ball and +scattered them far and wide. A simultaneous sigh seemed to rise from +the breasts of the True Blues. + +"That is magnificent, but it is not war," said the man beside old +Saunders. "He has no right to throw away a single chance when he is so +far behind." + +"Oh, he's not so far behind. Look at the score," put in a man on the +right. + +Saunders carefully nursed the balls up together once more, scored off +them for a while, and again he struck them far apart. This he did three +times. He apparently seemed bent on showing how completely he had the +table under his control. Suddenly a great cheer broke out, and young +Saunders rested as before without taking his eyes from the cloth. + +"What does that mean?" cried the old man excitedly, with dry lips. + +"Why, don't you see? He's tied the score. I imagine this is almost an +unprecedented run. I believe he's got Prognor on toast, if you ask me." + +Hammond came up with flushed face, and grasped the old man by the arm +with a vigour that made him wince. + +"Did you ever see anything grander than that?" he said, under cover of +the momentary applause. "I'm willing to lose my ten thousand now +without a murmur. You see, you are a mascot after all." + +The old man was too much excited to speak, but he hoped the boy would +take no more chances. Again came the click-click of the balls. The +father was pleased to see that Dick played now with all the care and +caution he had observed at first. The silence became intense, almost +painful. Every man leaned forward and scarcely breathed. + +All at once Prognor strode down to the billiard-table and stretched his +hand across it. A cheer shook the ceiling. The cup would remain on its +black marble pedestal. Saunders had won. He took the outstretched hand +of his defeated opponent, and the building rang again. + +Banker Hammond pushed his way through the congratulating crowd and +smote the winner cordially on the shoulder. + +"That was a great run, Dick, my boy. The old man was your mascot. Your +luck changed the moment he came in. Your father had his eye on you all +the time." + +"What!" cried Dick, with a jump. + +A flush came over his pale face as he caught his father's eye, although +the old man's glance was kindly enough. + +"I'm very proud of you, my son," said his father, when at last he +reached him. "It takes skill and pluck and nerve to win a contest like +that. I'm off now; I want to tell your mother about it." + +"Wait a moment, father, and we'll walk home together," said Dick. + + + + +THE BROMLEY GIBBERTS STORY. + + +The room in which John Shorely edited the _Weekly Sponge_ was not +luxuriously furnished, but it was comfortable. A few pictures decorated +the walls, mostly black and white drawings by artists who were so +unfortunate as to be compelled to work for the _Sponge_ on the +cheap. Magazines and papers were littered all about, chiefly American +in their origin, for Shorely had been brought up in the editorial +school which teaches that it is cheaper to steal from a foreign +publication than waste good money on original contributions. You +clipped out the story; changed New York to London; Boston or +Philadelphia to Manchester or Liverpool, and there you were. + +Shorely's theory was that the public was a fool, and didn't know the +difference. Some of the greatest journalistic successes in London +proved the fact, he claimed, yet the _Sponge_ frequently bought +stories from well-known authors, and bragged greatly about it. + +Shorely's table was littered with manuscripts, but the attention of the +great editor was not upon them. He sat in his wooden armchair, with his +gaze on the fire and a frown on his brow. The _Sponge_ was not +going well, and he feared he would have to adopt some of the many prize +schemes that were such a help to pure literature elsewhere, or offer a +thousand pounds insurance, tied up in such a way that it would look +lavishly generous to the constant reader, and yet be impossible to +collect if a disaster really occurred. + +In the midst of his meditations a clerk entered and announced--"Mr. +Bromley Gibberts." + +"Tell him I'm busy just now--tell him I'm engaged," said the editor, +while the perplexed frown deepened on his brow. + +The clerk's conscience; however, was never burdened with that message, +for Gibberts entered, with a long ulster coat flapping about his heels. + +"That's all right," said Gibberts, waving his hand at the boy, who +stood with open mouth, appalled at the intrusion. "You heard what Mr. +Shorely said. He's engaged. Therefore let no one enter. Get out." + +The boy departed, closing the door after him. Gibberts turned the key +in the lock, and then sat down. + +"There," he said; "now we can talk unmolested, Shorely. I should think +you would be pestered to death by all manner of idiots who come in and +interrupt you." + +"I am," said the editor, shortly. + +"Then take my plan, and lock your door. Communicate with the outer +office through a speaking-tube. I see you are down-hearted, so I have +come to cheer you up. I've brought you a story, my boy." + +Shorely groaned. + +"My dear Gibberts," he said, "we have now----" + +"Oh yes, I know all about that. You have matter enough on hand to run +the paper for the next fifteen years. If this is a comic story, you +are buying only serious stuff. If this be tragic, humour is what you +need. Of course, the up-and-down truth is that you are short of money, +and can't pay my price. The _Sponge_ is failing--everybody knows +that. Why can't you speak the truth, Shorely, to me, at least? If you +practiced an hour a day, and took lessons--from me, for instance--you +would be able in a month to speak several truthful sentences one after +the other." + +The editor laughed bitterly. + +"You are complimentary," he said. + +"I'm not. Try again, Shorely. Say I'm a boorish ass." + +"Well, you are." + +"There, you see how easy it is! Practice is everything. Now, about this +story, will you----" + +"I will not. As you are not an advertiser, I don't mind admitting to +you that the paper is going down. You see it comes to the same thing. +We haven't the money as you say, so what's the use of talking?" + +Gibberts hitched his chair closer to the editor, and placed his hand on +the other's knee. He went on earnestly-- + +"Now is the time to talk, Shorely. In a little while it will be too +late. You will have thrown up the _Sponge_. Your great mistake is +trying to ride two horses, each facing a different direction. It can't +be done, my boy. Make up your mind whether you are going to be a thief +or an honest man. That's the first step." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You know what I mean. Go in for a paper that will be entirely stolen +property, or for one made up of purely original matter." + +"We have a great deal of original matter in the _Sponge_." + +"Yes, and that's what I object to. Have it all original, or have it all +stolen. Be fish or fowl. At least one hundred men a week see a stolen +article in the _Sponge_ which they have read elsewhere. They then +believe it is all stolen, and you lose them. That isn't business, so I +want to sell you one original tale, which will prove to be the most +remarkable story written in England this year." + +"Oh, they all are," said Shorely, wearily. "Every story sent to me is a +most remarkable story, in the author's opinion." + +"Look here, Shorely," cried Gibberts, angrily, "you mustn't talk to me +like that. I'm no unknown author, a fact of which you are very well +aware. I don't need to peddle my goods." + +"Then why do you come here lecturing me?" + +"For your own good, Shorely, my boy," said Gibberts, calming down as +rapidly as he had flared up. He was a most uncertain man. "For your own +good, and if you don't take this story, some one else will. It will +make the fortune of the paper that secures it. Now, you read it while I +wait. Here it is, typewritten, at one-and-three a thousand words, all +to save your blessed eyesight." + +Shorely took the manuscript and lit the gas, for it was getting dark. +Gibberts sat down awhile, but soon began to pace the room, much to +Shorely's manifest annoyance. Not content with this, he picked up the +poker and noisily stirred the fire. "For Heaven's sake, sit down, +Gibberts, and be quiet!" cried Shorely, at last. + +Gibberts seized the poker as if it had been a weapon, and glared at the +editor. + +"I won't sit down, and I will make just as much noise as I want to," he +roared. As he stood there defiantly, Shorely saw a gleam of insanity in +his eyes. + +"Oh, very well, then," said Shorely, continuing to read the story. + +For a moment Gibberts stood grasping the poker by the middle, then he +flung it with a clatter on the fender, and, sitting down, gazed moodily +into the fire, without moving, until Shorely had turned the last page. + +"Well," said Gibberts, rousing from his reverie, "what do you think of +it?" + +"It's a good story, Gibberts. All your stories are good," said the +editor, carelessly. + +Gibberts started to his feet, and swore. + +"Do you mean to say," he thundered, "that you see nothing in that story +different from any I or any one else ever wrote? Hang it, Shorely, you +wouldn't know a good story if you met it coming up Fleet Street! Can't +you see that story is written with a man's heart's blood?" + +Shorely stretched out his legs and thrust his hands far down in his +trousers' pockets. + +"It may have been written as you say, although I thought you called my +attention a moment ago to its type-written character." + +"Don't be flippant, Shorely," said Gibberts, relapsing again into +melancholy. "You don't like the story, then? You didn't see anything +unusual in it--purpose, force, passion, life, death, nothing?" + +"There is death enough at the end. My objection is that there is too +much blood and thunder in it. Such a tragedy could never happen. No man +could go to a country house and slaughter every one in it. It's +absurd." + +Gibberts sprang from his seat and began to pace the room excitedly. +Suddenly he stopped before his friend, towering over him, his long +ulster making him look taller than he really was. + +"Did I ever tell you the tragedy of my life? How the property that +would have kept me from want has----" + +"Of course you have, Gibberts. Sit down. You've told it to everybody. +To me several times." + +"How my cousin cheated me out of----" + +"Certainly. Out of land and the woman you loved." + +"Oh! I told you that, did I?" said Gibberts, apparently abashed at the +other's familiarity with the circumstances. He sat down, and rested his +head in his hands. There was a long silence between the two, which was +finally broken by Gibberts saying-- + +"So you don't care about the story?" + +"Oh, I don't say that. I can see it is the story of your own life, with +an imaginary and sanguinary ending." + +"Oh, you saw that, did you?" + +"Yes. How much do you want for it?" + +"£50." + +"What?" + +"£50, I tell you. Are you deaf? And I want the money now." + +"Bless your innocent heart, I can buy a longer story than that from the +greatest author living for less than £50. Gibberts, you're crazy." + +Gibberts looked up suddenly and inquiringly, as if that thought had +never occurred to him before. He seemed rather taken with the idea. It +would explain many things which had puzzled both himself and his +friends. He meditated upon the matter for a few moments, but at last +shook his head. + +"No, Shorely," he said, with a sigh. "I'm not insane, though, goodness +knows, I've had enough to drive me mad. I don't seem to have the luck +of some people. I haven't the talent for going crazy. But to return to +the story. You think £50 too much for it. It will make the fortune of +the paper that publishes it. Let me see. I had it a moment ago, but the +point has escaped my memory. What was it you objected to as unnatural?" + +"The tragedy. There is too much wholesale murder at the end." + +"Ah! now I have it! Now I recollect!" + +Gibberts began energetically to pace the room again, smiting his hands +together. His face was in a glow of excitement. + +"Yes, I have it now. The tragedy. Granting a murder like that, one man +a dead shot, killing all the people in a country house; imagine it +actually taking place. Wouldn't all England ring with it?" + +"Naturally." + +"Of course it would. Now, you listen to me. I'm going to commit that +so-called crime. One week after you publish the story, I'm going down +to that country house, Channor Chase. It is my house, if there was +justice and right in England, and I'm going to slaughter every one in +it. I will leave a letter, saying the story in the _Sponge_ is the +true story of what led to the tragedy. Your paper in a week will be the +most-talked-of journal in England--in the world. It will leap +instantaneously into a circulation such as no weekly on earth ever +before attained. Look here, Shorely, that story is worth £50,000 rather +than £50, and if you don't buy it at once, some one else will. Now, +what do you say?" + +"I say you are joking, or else, as I said just now, you are as mad as a +hatter." + +"Admitting I am mad, will you take the story?" + +"No, but I'll prevent you committing the crime." + +"How?" + +"By giving you in charge. By informing on you." + +"You can't do it. Until such a crime is committed, no one would believe +it could be committed. You have no witnesses to our conversation here, +and I will deny every assertion you make. My word, at present, is as +good as yours. All you can do is to ruin your chance of fortune, which +knocks at every man's door. When I came in, you were wondering what you +could do to put the _Sponge_ on its feet. I saw it in your +attitude. Now, what do you say?" + +"I'll give you £25 for the story on its own merits, although it is a +big price, and you need not commit the crime." + +"Done! That is the sum I wanted, but I knew if I asked it, you would +offer me £12 10_s_. Will you publish it within the month?" + +"Yes." + +"Very well. Write out the cheque. Don't cross it. I've no bank +account." + +When the cheque was handed to him, Gibberts thrust it into the ticket- +pocket of his ulster, turned abruptly, and unlocked the door. "Good- +bye," he said. + +As he disappeared, Shorely noticed how long his ulster was, and how it +flapped about his heels. The next time he saw the novelist was under +circumstances that could never be effaced from his memory. + +The _Sponge_ was a sixteen-page paper, with a blue cover, and the +week Gibberts' story appeared, it occupied the first seven pages. As +Shorely ran it over in the paper, it impressed him more than it had +done in manuscript. A story always seems more convincing in type. + +Shorely met several men at the Club, who spoke highly of the story, and +at last he began to believe it was a good one himself. Johnson was +particularly enthusiastic, and every one in the Club knew Johnson's +opinion was infallible. + +"How did _you_ come to get hold of it?" he said to Shorely, with +unnecessary emphasis on the personal pronoun. + +"Don't you think I know a good story when I see it?" asked the editor, +indignantly. + +"It isn't the general belief of the Club," replied Johnson, airily; +"but then, all the members have sent you contributions, so perhaps that +accounts for it. By the way, have you seen Gibberts lately?" + +"No; why do you ask?" + +"Well, it strikes me he is acting rather queerly. If you asked me, I +don't think he is quite sane. He has something on his mind." + +"He told me," said the new member, with some hesitation--"but really I +don't think I'm justified in mentioning it, although he did not tell it +in confidence--that he was the rightful heir to a property in----" + +"Oh, we all know that story!" cried the Club, unanimously. + +"I think it's the Club whiskey," said one of the oldest members. "I +say, it's the worst in London." + +"Verbal complaints not received. Write to the Committee," put in +Johnson. "If Gibberts has a friend in the Club, which I doubt, that +friend should look after him. I believe he will commit suicide yet." + +These sayings troubled Shorely as he walked back to his office. He sat +down to write a note, asking Gibberts to call. As he was writing, +McCabe, the business manager of the _Sponge_, came in. + +"What's the matter with the old sheet this week?" he asked. + +"Matter? I don't understand you." + +"Well, I have just sent an order to the printer to run off an extra ten +thousand, and here comes a demand from Smith's for the whole lot. The +extra ten thousand were to go to different newsagents all over the +country who have sent repeat orders, so I have told the printer now to +run off at least twenty-five thousand, and to keep the plates on the +press. I never read the _Sponge_ myself, so I thought I would drop +in and ask you what the attraction was. This rush is unnatural. + +"Better read the paper and find out," said Shorely. + +"I would, if there wasn't so much of your stuff in it," retorted +McCabe. + +Next day McCabe reported an almost bewildering increase in orders. He +had a jubilant "we've-done-it-at-last" air that exasperated Shorely, +who felt that he alone should have the credit. There had come no answer +to the note he had sent Gibberts, so he went to the Club, in the hope +of meeting him. He found Johnson, whom he asked if Gibberts were there. + +"He's not been here to-day," said Johnson; "but I saw him yesterday, +and what do you think he was doing? He was in a gun-shop in the Strand, +buying cartridges for that villainous-looking seven-shooter of his. I +asked him what he was going to do with a revolver in London, and he +told me, shortly, that it was none of my business, which struck me as +so accurate a summing-up of the situation, that I came away without +making further remark. If you want any more stories by Gibberts, you +should look after him." + +Shorely found himself rapidly verging into a state of nervousness +regarding Gibberts. He was actually beginning to believe the novelist +meditated some wild action, which might involve others in a +disagreeable complication. Shorely had no desire to be accessory either +before or after the fact. He hurried back to the office, and there +found Gibberts' belated reply to his note. He hastily tore it open, and +the reading of it completely banished what little self-control he had +left. + +"Dear Shorely,--I know why you want to see me, but I have so many +affairs to settle, that it is impossible for me to call upon you. +However, have no fears; I shall stand to my bargain, without any +goading from you. Only a few days have elapsed since the publication of +the story, and I did not promise the tragedy before the week was out. I +leave for Channor Chase this afternoon. You shall have your pound of +flesh, and more.--Yours, + + "BROMLEY GIBBERTS." + +Shorely was somewhat pale about the lips when he had finished this +scrawl. He flung on his coat, and rushed into the street. Calling a +hansom, he said-- + +"Drive to Kidner's Inn as quickly as you can. No. 15." + +Once there, he sprang up the steps two at a time, and knocked at +Gibberts' door. The novelist allowed himself the luxury of a "man," and +it was the "man" who answered Shorely's imperious knock. + +"Where's Gibberts?" + +"He's just gone, sir." + +"Gone where?" + +"To Euston Station, I believe, sir; and he took a hansom. He's going +into the country for a week, sir, and I wasn't to forward his letters, +so I haven't his address." + +"Have you an 'ABC'?" + +"Yes, sir; step inside, sir. Mr. Gibberts was just looking up trains in +it, sir, before he left." + +Shorely saw it was open at C, and, looking down the column to Channor, +he found that a train left in about twenty minutes. Without a word, he +dashed down the stairs again. The "man" did not seem astonished. Queer +fish sometimes came to see his master. + +"Can you get me to Euston Station in twenty minutes?" + +The cabman shook his head, as he said-- + +"I'll do my best, sir, but we ought to have a good half-hour." + +The driver did his best, and landed Shorely on the departure platform +two minutes after the train had gone. + +"When is the next train to Channor?" demanded Shorely of a porter. + +"Just left, sir." + +"The next train hasn't just left, you fool. Answer my question." + +"Two hours and twenty minutes, sir," replied the porter, in a huff. + +Shorely thought of engaging a special, but realised he hadn't money +enough. Perhaps he could telegraph and warn the people of Channor +Chase, but he did not know to whom to telegraph. Or, again, he thought +he might have Gibberts arrested on some charge or other at Channor +Station. That, he concluded, was the way out--dangerous, but feasible. + +By this time, however, the porter had recovered his equanimity. Porters +cannot afford to cherish resentment, and this particular porter saw +half a crown in the air. + +"Did you wish to reach Channor before the train that's just gone, sir?" + +"Yes. Can it be done?" + +"It might be done, sir," said the porter, hesitatingly, as if he were +on the verge of divulging a State secret which would cost him his +situation. He wanted the half-crown to become visible before he +committed himself further. + +"Here's half a sovereign, if you tell me how it can be done, short of +hiring a special." + +"Well, sir, you could take the express that leaves at the half-hour. It +will carry you fifteen miles beyond Channor, to Buley Junction, then in +seventeen minutes you can get a local back to Channor, which is due +three minutes before the down train reaches there--if the local is in +time," he added, when the gold piece was safe stowed in his pocket. + +While waiting for the express, Shorely bought a copy of the +_Sponge_, and once more he read Gibberts' story on the way down. +The third reading appalled him. He was amazed he had not noticed before +the deadly earnestness of its tone. We are apt to underrate or overrate +the work of a man with whom we are personally familiar. + +Now, for the first time, Shorely seemed to get the proper perspective. +The reading left him in a state of nervous collapse. He tried to +remember whether or not he had burned Gibberts' letter. If he had left +it on his table, anything might happen. It was incriminating evidence. + +The local was five minutes late at the Junction, and it crawled over +the fifteen miles back to Channor in the most exasperating way, losing +time with every mile. At Channor he found the London train had come and +gone. + +"Did a man in a long ulster get off, and----" + +"For Channor Chase, sir?" + +"Yes. Has he gone?" + +"Oh yes, sir! The dog-cart from the Chase was here to meet him, sir." + +"How far is it?" + +"About five miles by road, if you mean the Chase, sir." + +"Can I get a conveyance?" + +"I don't think so, sir. They didn't know you were coming, I suppose, or +they would have waited; but if you take the road down by the church, +you can get there before the cart, sir. It isn't more than two miles +from the church. You'll find the path a bit dirty, I'm afraid, sir, but +not worse than the road. You can't miss the way, and you can send for +your luggage." + +It had been raining, and was still drizzling. A strange path is +sometimes difficult to follow, even in broad daylight, but a wet, dark +evening adds tremendously to the problem. Shorely was a city man, and +quite unused to the eccentricities of country lanes and paths. + +He first mistook the gleaming surface of a ditch for the footpath, and +only found his mistake when he was up to his waist in water. The rain +came on heavily again, and added to his troubles. After wandering +through muddy fields for some time, he came to a cottage, where he +succeeded in securing a guide to Channor Chase. + +The time he had lost wandering in the fields would, Shorely thought, +allow the dog-cart to arrive before him, and such he found to be the +case. The man who answered Shorely's imperious summons to the door was +surprised to find a wild-eyed, unkempt, bedraggled individual, who +looked like a lunatic or a tramp. + +"Has Mr. Bromley Gibberts arrived yet?" he asked, without preliminary +talk. + +"Yes, sir," answered the man. + +"Is he in his room?" + +"No, sir. He has just come down, after dressing, and is in the drawing- +room. + +"I must see him at once," gasped Shorely. "It is a matter of life and +death. Take me to the drawing-room." + +The man, in some bewilderment, led him to the door of the drawing-room, +and Shorely heard the sound of laughter from within. Thus ever are +comedy and tragedy mingled. The man threw the door open, and Shorely +entered. The sight he beheld at first dazzled him, for the room was +brilliantly lighted. He saw a number of people, ladies and gentlemen, +all in evening dress, and all looking towards the door, with +astonishment in their eyes. Several of them, he noticed, had copies of +the _Sponge_ in their hands. Bromley Gibberts stood before the +fire, and was very evidently interrupted in the middle of a narration. + +"I assure you," he was saying, "that is the only way by which a story +of the highest class can be sold to a London editor." + +He stopped as he said this, and turned to look at the intruder. It was +a moment or two before he recognised the dapper editor in the +bedraggled individual who stood, abashed, at the door. + +"By the gods!" he exclaimed, waving his hands. "Speak of the editor, +and he appears. In the name of all that's wonderful, Shorely, how did +you come here? Have your deeds at last found you out? Have they ducked +you in a horse-pond? I have just been telling my friends here how I +sold you that story, which is making the fortune of the _Sponge_. +Come forward, and show yourself, Shorely, my boy." + +"I would like a word with you," stammered Shorely. + +"Then, have it here," said the novelist. "They all understand the +circumstances. Come and tell them your side of the story." + +"I warn you," said Shorely, pulling himself together, and addressing +the company, "that this man contemplates a dreadful crime, and I have +come here to prevent it." + +Gibberts threw back his head, and laughed loudly. + +"Search me," he cried. "I am entirely unarmed, and, as every one here +knows, among my best friends." + +"Goodness!" said one old lady. "You don't mean to say that Channor +Chase is the scene of your story, and where the tragedy was to take +place?" + +"Of course it is," cried Gibberts, gleefully. "Didn't you recognise the +local colour? I thought I described Channor Chase down to the ground, +and did I not tell you you were all my victims? I always forget some +important detail when telling a story. Don't go yet," he said, as +Shorely turned away; "but tell your story, then we will have each man's +narrative, after the style of Wilkie Collins." + +But Shorely had had enough, and, in spite of pressing invitations to +remain, he departed out into the night, cursing the eccentricities of +literary men. + + + + +NOT ACCORDING TO THE CODE. + + +Even a stranger to the big town walking for the first time through +London, sees on the sides of the houses many names with which he has +long been familiar. His precognition has cost the firms those names +represent much money in advertising. The stranger has had the names +before him for years in newspapers and magazines, on the hoardings and +boards by the railway side, paying little heed to them at the time; yet +they have been indelibly impressed on his brain, and when he wishes +soap or pills his lips almost automatically frame the words most +familiar to them. Thus are the lavish sums spent in advertising +justified, and thus are many excellent publications made possible. + +When you come to ponder over the matter, it seems strange that there +should ever be any real man behind the names so lavishly advertised; +that there should be a genuine Smith or Jones whose justly celebrated +medicines work such wonders, or whose soap will clean even a guilty +conscience. Granting the actual existence of these persons and probing +still further into the mystery, can any one imagine that the excellent +Smith to whom thousands of former sufferers send entirely unsolicited +testimonials, or the admirable Jones whom _prima donnas_ love +because his soap preserves their dainty complexions--can any one credit +the fact that Smith and Jones have passions like other men, have +hatreds, likes and dislikes? + +Such a condition of things, incredible as it may appear, exists in +London. There are men in the metropolis, utterly unknown personally, +whose names are more widely spread over the earth than the names of the +greatest novelists, living or dead, and these men have feeling and form +like unto ourselves. + +There was the firm of Danby and Strong for instance. The name may mean +nothing to any reader of these pages, but there was a time when it was +well-known and widely advertised, not only in England but over the +greater part of the world as well. They did a great business, as every +firm that spends a fortune every year in advertising is bound to do. It +was in the old paper-collar days. There actually was a time when the +majority of men wore paper collars, and, when you come to think of it, +the wonder is that the paper-collar trade ever fell away as it did, +when you consider with what vile laundries London is and always has +been cursed. Take the Danby and Strong collars for instance, advertised +as being so similar to linen that only an expert could tell the +difference. That was Strong's invention. Before he invented the +Piccadilly collar so-called, paper collars had a brilliant glaze that +would not have deceived the most recent arrival from the most remote +shire in the country. Strong devised some method by which a slight +linen film was put on the paper, adding strength to the collar and +giving it the appearance of the genuine article. You bought a +pasteboard box containing a dozen of these collars for something like +the price you paid for the washing of half a dozen linen ones. The +Danby and Strong Piccadilly collar jumped at once into great +popularity, and the wonder is that the linen collar ever recovered from +the blow dealt it by this ingenious invention. + +Curiously enough, during the time the firm was struggling to establish +itself, the two members of it were the best of friends, but when +prosperity came to them, causes of difference arose, and their +relations, as the papers say of warlike nations, became strained. +Whether the fault lay with John Danby or with William Strong no one has +ever been able to find out. They had mutual friends who claimed that +each one of them was a good fellow, but those friends always added that +Strong and Danby did not "hit it off." + +Strong was a bitter man when aroused, and could generally be counted +upon to use harsh language. Danby was quieter, but there was a sullen +streak of stubbornness in him that did not tend to the making up of a +quarrel. They had been past the speaking point for more than a year, +when there came a crisis in their relations with each other, that ended +in disaster to the business carried on under the title of Danby and +Strong. Neither man would budge, and between them the business sunk to +ruin. Where competition is fierce no firm can stand against it if there +is internal dissension. Danby held his ground quietly but firmly, +Strong raged and cursed, but was equally steadfast in not yielding a +point. Each hated the other so bitterly that each was willing to lose +his own share in a profitable business, if by doing so he could bring +ruin on his partner. + +We are all rather prone to be misled by appearances. As one walks down +Piccadilly, or the Strand, or Fleet Street and meets numerous +irreproachably dressed men with glossy tall hats and polished boots, +with affable manners and a courteous way of deporting themselves toward +their fellows, we are apt to fall into the fallacy of believing that +these gentlemen are civilised. We fail to realise that if you probe in +the right direction you will come upon possibilities of savagery that +would draw forth the warmest commendation from a Pawnee Indian. There +are reputable business men in London who would, if they dared, tie an +enemy to a stake and roast him over a slow fire, and these men have +succeeded so well, not only in deceiving their neighbours, but also +themselves, that they would actually be offended if you told them so. +If law were suspended in London for one day, during which time none of +us would be held answerable for any deed then done, how many of us +would be alive next morning? Most of us would go out to pot some +favourite enemy, and would doubtless be potted ourselves before we got +safely home again. + +The law, however, is a great restrainer, and helps to keep the death- +rate from reaching excessive proportions. One department of the law +crushed out the remnant of the business of Messrs. Danby and Strong, +leaving the firm bankrupt, while another department of the law +prevented either of the partners taking the life of the other. + +When Strong found himself penniless, he cursed, as was his habit, and +wrote to a friend in Texas asking if he could get anything to do over +there. He was tired of a country of law and order, he said, which was +not as complimentary to Texas as it might have been. But his remark +only goes to show what extraordinary ideas Englishmen have of foreign +parts. The friend's answer was not very encouraging, but, nevertheless, +Strong got himself out there somehow, and in course of time became a +cowboy. He grew reasonably expert with his revolver and rode a mustang +as well as could be expected, considering that he had never seen such +an animal in London, even at the Zoo. The life of a cowboy on a Texas +ranch leads to the forgetting of such things as linen shirts and paper +collars. + +Strong's hatred of Danby never ceased, but he began to think of him +less often. + +One day, when he least expected it, the subject was brought to his mind +in a manner that startled him. He was in Galveston ordering supplies +for the ranch, when in passing a shop which he would have called a +draper's, but which was there designated as dealing in dry goods, he +was amazed to see the name "Danby and Strong" in big letters at the +bottom of a huge pile of small cardboard boxes that filled the whole +window. At first the name merely struck him as familiar, and he came +near asking himself "Where have I seen that before?" It was some +moments before he realised that the Strong stood for the man gazing +stupidly in at the plate-glass window. Then he noticed that the boxes +were all guaranteed to contain the famous Piccadilly collar. He read in +a dazed manner a large printed bill which stood beside the pile of +boxes. These collars it seemed, were warranted to be the genuine Danby +and Strong collar, and the public was warned against imitations. They +were asserted to be London made and linen faced, and the gratifying +information was added that once a person wore the D. and S. collar he +never afterwards relapsed into wearing any inferior brand. The price of +each box was fifteen cents, or two boxes for a quarter. Strong found +himself making a mental calculation which resulted in turning this +notation into English money. + +As he stood there a new interest began to fill his mind. Was the firm +being carried on under the old name by some one else, or did this lot +of collars represent part of the old stock? He had had no news from +home since he left, and the bitter thought occurred to him that perhaps +Danby had got somebody with capital to aid him in resuscitating the +business. He resolved to go inside and get some information. + +"You seem to have a very large stock of those collars on hand," he said +to the man who was evidently the proprietor. + +"Yes," was the answer. "You see, we are the State agents for this make. +We supply the country dealers." + +"Oh, do you? Is the firm of Danby and Strong still in existence? I +understood it had suspended." + +"I guess not," said the man. "They supply us all right enough. Still, I +really know nothing about the firm, except that they turn out a first- +class article. We're not in any way responsible for Danby and Strong; +we're merely agents for the State of Texas, you know," the man added, +with sudden caution. + +"I have nothing against the firm," said Strong. "I asked because I once +knew some members of it, and was wondering how it was getting along." + +"Well, in that case you ought to see the American representative. He +was here this week ... that's why we make such a display in the window, +it always pleases the agent ... he's now working up the State and will +be back in Galveston before the month is out." + +"What's his name? Do you remember?" + +"Danby. George Danby, I think. Here's his card. No, John Danby is the +name. I thought it was George. Most Englishmen are George, you know." + +Strong looked at the card, but the lettering seemed to waver before his +eyes. He made out, however, that Mr. John Danby had an address in New +York, and that he was the American representative of the firm of Danby +and Strong, London. Strong placed the card on the counter before him. + +"I used to know Mr. Danby, and I would like to meet him. Where do you +think I could find him?" + +"Well, as I said before, you could see him right here in Galveston if +you wait a month, but if you are in a hurry you might catch him at +Broncho Junction on Thursday night." + +"He is travelling by rail then?" + +"No, he is not. He went by rail as far as Felixopolis. There he takes a +horse, and goes across the prairies to Broncho Junction; a three days' +journey. I told him he wouldn't do much business on that route, but he +said he was going partly for his health, and partly to see the country. +He expected to reach Broncho Thursday night." The dry goods merchant +laughed as one who suddenly remembers a pleasant circumstance. "You're +an Englishman, I take it." + +Strong nodded. + +"Well, I must say you folks have queer notions about this country. +Danby, who was going for a three days' journey across the plains, +bought himself two Colts revolvers, and a knife half as long as my arm. +Now I've travelled all over this State, and never carried a gun, but I +couldn't get Danby to believe his route was as safe as a church. Of +course, now and then in Texas a cowboy shoots off his gun, but it's +more often his mouth, and I don't believe there's more killing done in +Texas than in any other bit of land the same size. But you can't get an +Englishman to believe that. You folks are an awful law-abiding crowd. +For my part I would sooner stand my chance with a revolver than a +lawsuit any day." Then the good-natured Texan told the story of the +pistol in Texas; of the general lack of demand for it, but the great +necessity of having it handy when it was called for. + +A man with murder in his heart should not hold a conversation like +this, but William Strong was too full of one idea to think of prudence. +Such a talk sets the hounds of justice on the right trail, with +unpleasant results for the criminal. + +On Thursday morning Strong set out on horse-back from Broncho Junction +with his face towards Felixopolis. By noon he said to himself he ought +to meet his former partner with nothing but the horizon around them. +Besides the revolvers in his belt, Strong had a Winchester rifle in +front of him. He did not know but he might have to shoot at long range, +and it was always well to prepare for eventualities. Twelve o'clock +came, but he met no one, and there was nothing in sight around the +empty circle of the horizon. It was nearly two before he saw a moving +dot ahead of him. Danby was evidently unused to riding and had come +leisurely. Some time before they met, Strong recognised his former +partner and he got his rifle ready. + +"Throw up your hands!" he shouted, bringing his rifle butt to his +shoulder. + +Danby instantly raised his hands above his head. "I have no money on +me," he cried, evidently not recognising his opponent. "You may search +me if you like." + +"Get down off your horse; don't lower your hands, or I fire." + +Danby got down, as well as he could, with his hands above his head. +Strong had thrown his right leg over to the left side of the horse, +and, as his enemy got down, he also slid to the ground, keeping Danby +covered with the rifle. + +"I assure you I have only a few dollars with me, which you are quite +welcome to," said Danby. + +Strong did not answer. Seeing that the firing was to be at short range, +he took a six-shooter from his belt, and, cocking it, covered his man, +throwing the rifle on the grass. He walked up to his enemy, placed the +muzzle of the revolver against his rapidly beating heart, and leisurely +disarmed him, throwing Danby's weapons on the ground out of reach. Then +he stood back a few paces and looked at the trembling man. His face +seemed to have already taken on the hue of death and his lips were +bloodless. + +"I see you recognise me at last, Mr. Danby. This is an unexpected +meeting, is it not? You realise, I hope, that there are here no judges, +juries, nor lawyers, no _mandamuses_ and no appeals. Nothing but a +writ of ejectment from the barrel of a pistol and no legal way of +staying the proceedings. In other words, no cursed quibbles and no +damned law." + +Danby, after several times moistening his pallid lips, found his voice. + +"Do you mean to give me a chance, or are you going to murder me?" + +"I am going to murder you." + +Danby closed his eyes, let his hands drop to his sides, and swayed +gently from side to side as a man does on the scaffold just before the +bolt is drawn. Strong lowered his revolver and fired, shattering one +knee of the doomed man. Danby dropped with a cry that was drowned by +the second report. The second bullet put out his left eye, and the +murdered man lay with his mutilated face turned up to the blue sky. + +A revolver report on the prairies is short, sharp, and echoless. The +silence that followed seemed intense and boundless, as if nowhere on +earth there was such a thing as sound. The man on his back gave an +awesome touch of the eternal to the stillness. + +Strong, now that it was all over, began to realise his position. Texas, +perhaps, paid too little heed to life lost in fair fight, but she had +an uncomfortable habit of putting a rope round the neck of a cowardly +murderer. Strong was an inventor by nature. He proceeded to invent his +justification. He took one of Danby's revolvers and fired two shots out +of it into the empty air. This would show that the dead man had +defended himself at least, and it would be difficult to prove that he +had not been the first to fire. He placed the other pistol and the +knife in their places in Danby's belt. He took Danby's right hand while +it was still warm and closed the fingers around the butt of the +revolver from which he had fired, placing the forefinger on the trigger +of the cocked six-shooter. To give effect and naturalness to the +tableau he was arranging for the benefit of the next traveller by that +trail, he drew up the right knee and put revolver and closed hand on it +as if Danby had been killed while just about to fire his third shot. + +Strong, with the pride of a true artist in his work, stepped back a +pace or two for the purpose of seeing the effect of his work as a +whole. As Danby fell, the back of his head had struck a lump of soil or +a tuft of grass which threw the chin forward on the breast. As Strong +looked at his victim his heart jumped, and a sort of hypnotic fear took +possession of him and paralysed action at its source. Danby was not yet +dead. His right eye was open, and it glared at Strong with a malice and +hatred that mesmerised the murderer and held him there, although he +felt rather than knew he was covered by the cocked revolver he had +placed in what he thought was a dead hand. Danby's lips moved but no +sound came from them. Strong could not take his fascinated gaze from +the open eye. He knew he was a dead man if Danby had strength to crook +his finger, yet he could not take the leap that would bring him out of +range. The fifth pistol-shot rang out and Strong pitched forward on his +face. + +The firm of Danby and Strong was dissolved. + + + + +A MODERN SAMSON. + +A little more and Jean Rasteaux would have been a giant. Brittany men +are small as a rule, but Jean was an exception. He was a powerful young +fellow who, up to the time he was compelled to enter the army, had +spent his life in dragging heavy nets over the sides of a boat. He knew +the Brittany coast, rugged and indented as it is, as well as he knew +the road from the little café on the square to the dwelling of his +father on the hillside overlooking the sea. Never before had he been +out of sound of the waves. He was a man who, like Hervé Riel, might +have saved the fleet, but France, with the usual good sense of +officialism, sent this man of the coast into the mountains, and Jean +Rasteaux became a soldier in the Alpine Corps. If he stood on the +highest mountain peak, Jean might look over illimitable wastes of snow, +but he could catch neither sound nor sight of the sea. + +Men who mix with mountains become as rough and rugged as the rocks, and +the Alpine Corps was a wild body, harsh and brutal. Punishment in the +ranks was swift and terrible, for the corps was situated far from any +of the civilising things of modern life, and deeds were done which the +world knew not of; deeds which would not have been approved if reported +at headquarters. + +The regiment of which Jean became a unit was stationed in a high valley +that had but one outlet, a wild pass down which a mountain river roared +and foamed and tossed. The narrow path by the side of this stream was +the only way out of or into the valley, for all around, the little +plateau was walled in by immense peaks of everlasting snow, dazzling in +the sunlight, and luminous even in the still, dark nights. From the +peaks to the south, Italy might have been seen, but no man had ever +dared to climb any of them. The angry little river was fed from a +glacier whose blue breast lay sparkling in the sunshine to the south, +and the stream circumnavigated the enclosed plateau, as if trying to +find an outlet for its tossing waters. + +Jean was terribly lonely in these dreary and unaccustomed solitudes. +The white mountains awed him, and the mad roar of the river seemed but +poor compensation for the dignified measured thunder of the waves on +the broad sands of the Brittany coast. + +But Jean was a good-natured giant, and he strove to do whatever was +required of him. He was not quick at repartee, and the men mocked his +Breton dialect. He became the butt for all their small and often mean +jokes, and from the first he was very miserable, for, added to his +yearning for the sea, whose steady roar he heard in his dreams at +night, he felt the utter lack of all human sympathy. + +At first he endeavoured, by unfailing good nature and prompt obedience, +to win the regard of his fellows, and he became in a measure the slave +of the regiment; but the more he tried to please the more his burden +increased, and the greater were the insults he was compelled to bear +from both officers and men. It was so easy to bully this giant, whom +they nicknamed Samson, that even the smallest men in the regiment felt +at liberty to swear at him or cuff him if necessary. + +But at last Samson's good nature seemed to be wearing out. His stock +was becoming exhausted, and his comrades forgot that the Bretons for +hundreds of years have been successful fighters, and that the blood of +contention flows in their veins. + +Although the Alpine Corps, as a general thing, contain the largest and +strongest men in the French Army, yet the average French soldier may be +termed undersized when compared with the military of either England or +Germany. There were several physically small men in the regiment, and +one of these, like a diminutive gnat, was Samson's worst persecutor. As +there was no other man in the regiment whom the gnat could bully, +Samson received more than even he could be expected to bear. One day +the gnat ordered Samson to bring him a pail of water from the stream, +and the big man unhesitatingly obeyed. He spilled some of it coming up +the bank, and when he delivered it to the little man, the latter abused +him for not bringing the pail full, and as several of the larger +soldiers, who had all in their turn made Samson miserable, were +standing about, the little man picked up the pail of water and dashed +it into Samson's face. It was such a good opportunity for showing off +before the big men, who removed their pipes from their mouths and +laughed loudly as Samson with his knuckles tried to take the water out +of his eyes. Then Samson did an astonishing thing. + +"You miserable, little insignificant rat," he cried. "I could crush +you, but you are not worth it. But to show you that I am not afraid of +any of you, there, and there!" + +As he said these two words with emphasis, he struck out from the +shoulder, not at the little man, but at the two biggest men in the +regiment, and felled them like logs to the ground. + +A cry of rage went up from their comrades, but bullies are cowards at +heart, and while Samson glared around at them, no one made a move. + +The matter was reported to the officer, and Samson was placed under +arrest. When the inquiry was held the officer expressed his +astonishment at the fact that Samson hit two men who had nothing to do +with the insult he had received, while the real culprit had been +allowed to go unpunished. + +"They deserved it," said Samson, sullenly, "for what they had done +before. I could not strike the little man. I should have killed him." + +"Silence!" cried the officer. "You must not answer me like that." + +"I shall answer you as I like," said Samson, doggedly. + +The officer sprang to his feet, with a lithe rattan cane in his hand, +and struck the insubordinate soldier twice across the face, each time +raising an angry red mark. + +Before the guards had time to interfere, Samson sprang upon the +officer, lifted him like a child above his head, and dashed him with a +sickening crash to the ground, where he lay motionless. + +A cry of horror went up from every one present. + +"I have had enough," cried Samson, turning to go, but he was met by a +bristling hedge of steel. He was like a rat in a trap. He stood +defiantly there, a man maddened by oppression, and glared around +helplessly. + +Whatever might have been his punishment for striking his comrades, +there was no doubt now about his fate. The guard-house was a rude hut +of logs situated on the banks of the roaring stream. Into this room +Samson was flung, bound hand and foot, to await the court-martial next +day. The shattered officer, whose sword had broken in pieces under him, +slowly revived and was carried to his quarters. A sentry marched up and +down all night before the guard-house. + +In the morning, when Samson was sent for, the guard-house was found to +be empty. The huge Breton had broken his bonds as did Samson of old. He +had pushed out a log of wood from the wall, and had squeezed himself +through to the bank of the stream. There all trace of him was lost. If +he had fallen in, then of course he had sentenced and executed himself, +but in the mud near the water were great footprints which no boot but +that of Samson could have made; so if he were in the stream it must +have been because he threw himself there. The trend of the footprints, +however, indicated that he had climbed on the rocks, and there, of +course, it was impossible to trace him. The sentries who guarded the +pass maintained that no one had gone through during the night, but to +make sure several men were sent down the path to overtake the runaway. +Even if he reached a town or a village far below, so huge a man could +not escape notice. The searchers were instructed to telegraph his +description and his crime as soon as they reached a telegraph wire. It +was impossible to hide in the valley, and a rapid search speedily +convinced the officers that the delinquent was not there. + +As the sun rose higher and higher, until it began to shine even on the +northward-facing snow fields, a sharp-eyed private reported that he saw +a black speck moving high up on the great white slope south of the +valley. The officer called for a field-glass, and placing it to his +eyes, examined the snow carefully. + +"Call out a detachment," he said, "that is Samson on the mountain." + +There was a great stir in the camp when the truth became known. +Emissaries were sent after the searchers down the pass, calling them to +return. + +"He thinks to get to Italy," said the officer. "I did not imagine the +fool knew so much of geography. We have him now secure enough." + +The officer who had been flung over Samson's head was now able to +hobble about, and he was exceedingly bitter. Shading his eyes and +gazing at the snow, he said-- + +"A good marksman ought to be able to bring him down." + +"There is no need of that," replied his superior. "He cannot escape. We +have nothing to do but to wait for him. He will have to come down." + +All of which was perfectly true. + +A detachment crossed the stream and stacked its arms at the foot of the +mountain which Samson was trying to climb. There was a small level +place a few yards wide between the bottom of the hill and the bank of +the raging stream. On this bit of level ground the soldiers lay in the +sun and smoked, while the officers stood in a group and watched the +climbing man going steadily upward. + +For a short distance up from the plateau there was stunted grass and +moss, with dark points of rock protruding from the scant soil. Above +that again was a breadth of dirty snow which, now that the sun was +strong, sent little trickling streams down to the river. From there to +the long ridge of the mountain extended upwards the vast smooth slope +of virgin snow, pure and white, sparkling in the strong sunlight as if +it had been sprinkled with diamond dust. A black speck against this +tremendous field of white, the giant struggled on, and they could see +by the glass that he sunk to the knee in the softening snow. + +"Now," said the officer, "he is beginning to understand his situation." + +Through the glass they saw Samson pause. From below it seemed as if the +snow were as smooth as a sloping roof, but even to the naked eye a +shadow crossed it near the top. That shadow was a tremendous ridge of +overhanging snow more than a hundred feet deep; and Samson now paused +as he realised that it was insurmountable. He looked down and +undoubtedly saw a part of the regiment waiting for him below. He turned +and plodded slowly under the overhanging ridge until he came to the +precipice at his left. It was a thousand feet sheer down. He retraced +his steps and walked to the similar precipice at the right. Then he +came again to the middle of the great T which his footmarks had made on +that virgin slope. He sat down in the snow. + +No one will ever know what a moment of despair the Breton must have +passed through when he realised the hopelessness of his toil. + +The officer who was gazing through the glass at him dropped his hand to +his side and laughed. + +"The nature of the situation," he said, "has at last dawned upon him. +It took a long time to get an appreciation of it through his thick +Breton skull." + +"Let me have the glass a moment," said another. "He has made up his +mind about something." + +The officer did not realise the full significance of what he saw +through the glass. In spite of their conceit, their skulls were thicker +than that of the persecuted Breton fisherman. + +Samson for a moment turned his face to the north and raised his face +towards heaven. Whether it was an appeal to the saints he believed in, +or an invocation to the distant ocean he was never more to look upon, +who can tell? + +After a moment's pause he flung himself headlong down the slope towards +the section of the regiment which lounged on the bank of the river. +Over and over he rolled, and then in place of the black figure there +came downwards a white ball, gathering bulk at every bound. + +It was several seconds before the significance of what they were gazing +at burst upon officers and men. It came upon them simultaneously, and +with it a wild panic of fear. In the still air a low sullen roar arose. + +"An avalanche! An avalanche!!" they cried. + +The men and officers were hemmed in by the boiling torrent. Some of +them plunged in to get to the other side, but the moment the water laid +hold of them their heels were whirled into the air, and they +disappeared helplessly down the rapids. + +Samson was hours going up the mountain, but only seconds coming down. +Like an overwhelming wave came the white crest of the avalanche, +sweeping officers and men into and over the stream and far across the +plateau. + +There was one mingled shriek which made itself heard through the sullen +roar of the snow, then all was silence. The hemmed-in waters rose high +and soon forced its way through the white barrier. + +When the remainder of the regiment dug out from the débris the bodies +of their comrades they found a fixed look of the wildest terror on +every face except one. Samson himself, without an unbroken bone in his +body, slept as calmly as if he rested under the blue waters on the +coast of Brittany. + + + + +A DEAL ON 'CHANGE + + +It was in the days when drawing-rooms were dark, and filled with bric- +a-brac. The darkness enabled the half-blinded visitor, coming in out of +the bright light, to knock over gracefully a $200 vase that had come +from Japan to meet disaster in New York. + +In a corner of the room was seated, in a deep and luxurious armchair, a +most beautiful woman. She was the wife of the son of the richest man in +America; she was young; her husband was devotedly fond of her; she was +mistress of a palace; anything that money could buy was hers did she +but express the wish; but she was weeping softly, and had just made up +her mind that she was the most miserable creature in all the land. + +If a stranger had entered the room he would first have been impressed +by the fact that he was looking at the prettiest woman he had ever +seen; then he would have been haunted by the idea that he had met her +somewhere before. If he were a man moving in artistic circles he might +perhaps remember that he had seen her face looking down at him from +various canvases in picture exhibitions, and unless he were a stranger +to the gossip of the country he could hardly help recollecting the +dreadful fuss the papers made, as if it were any business of theirs, +when young Ed. Druce married the artists' model, celebrated for her +loveliness. + +Every one has read the story of that marriage; goodness knows, the +papers made the most of it, as is their custom. Young Ed., who knew +much more of the world than did his father, expected stern opposition, +and, knowing the unlimited power unlimited wealth gave to the old man, +he did not risk an interview with his parent, but eloped with the girl. +The first inkling old man Druce had of the affair was from a vivid +sensational account of the runaway in an evening paper. He was pictured +in the paper as an implacable father who was at that moment searching +for the elopers with a shot gun. Old Druce had been too often the +central figure of a journalistic sensation to mind what the sheet said. +He promptly telegraphed all over the country, and, getting into +communication with his son, asked him (electrically) as a favour to +bring his young wife home, and not make a fool of himself. So the +errant pair, much relieved, came back to New York. + +Old Druce was a taciturn man, even with his only son. He wondered at +first that the boy should have so misjudged him as to suppose he would +raise objections, no matter whom the lad wished to marry. He was +bewildered rather than enlightened when Ed. told him he feared +opposition because the girl was poor. What difference on earth did +_that_ make? Had he not money enough for all of them? If not, was +there any trouble in adding to their store? Were there not railroads to +be wrecked; stockholders to be fleeced; Wall Street lambs to be shorn? +Surely a man married to please himself and not to make money. Ed. +assured the old man that cases had been known where a suspicion of +mercenary motives had hovered round a matrimonial alliance, but Druce +expressed the utmost contempt for such a state of things. + +At first Ella had been rather afraid of her silent father-in-law, whose +very name made hundreds tremble and thousands curse, but she soon +discovered that the old man actually stood in awe of her, and that his +apparent brusqueness was the mere awkwardness he felt when in her +presence. He was anxious to please her, and worried himself wondering +whether there was anything she wanted. + +One day he fumblingly dropped a cheque for a million dollars in her +lap, and, with some nervous confusion, asked her to run out, like a +good girl, and buy herself something; if that wasn't enough, she was to +call on him for more. The girl sprang from her chair and threw her arms +around his neck, much to the old man's embarrassment, who was not +accustomed to such a situation. She kissed him in spite of himself, +allowing the cheque to flutter to the floor, the most valuable bit of +paper floating around loose in America that day. + +When he reached his office he surprised his son. He shook his fist in +the young fellow's face, and said sternly-- + +"If you ever say a cross word to that little girl, I'll do what I've +never done yet--I'll thrash you!" + +The young man laughed. + +"All right, father. I'll deserve a thrashing in that case." + +The old man became almost genial whenever he thought of his pretty +daughter-in-law. "My little girl," he always called her. At first, Wall +Street men said old Druce was getting into his dotage, but when a nip +came in the market and they found that, as usual, the old man was on +the right side of the fence, they were compelled reluctantly to admit, +with emptier pockets, that the dotage had not yet interfered with the +financial corner of old Druce's mind. + +As young Mrs. Druce sat disconsolately in her drawing-room, the +curtains parted gently, and her father-in-law entered stealthily, as if +he were a thief, which indeed he was, and the very greatest of them. +Druce had small, shifty piercing eyes that peered out from under his +grey bushy eyebrows like two steel sparks. He never seemed to be +looking directly at any one, and his eyes somehow gave you the idea +that they were trying to glance back over his shoulder, as if he feared +pursuit. Some said that old Druce was in constant terror of +assassination, while others held that he knew the devil was on his +track and would ultimately nab him. + +"I pity the devil when that day comes," young Sneed said once when some +one had made the usual remark about Druce. This echoed the general +feeling prevalent in Wall Street regarding the encounter that was +admitted by all to be inevitable. + +The old man stopped in the middle of the room when he noticed that his +daughter-in-law was crying. + +"Dear, dear!" he said; "what is the matter? Has Edward been saying +anything cross to you?" + +"No, papa," answered the girl. "Nobody could be kinder to me than Ed. +is. There is nothing really the matter." Then, to put the truth of her +statement beyond all question, she began to cry afresh. + +The old man sat down beside her, taking one hand in his own. "Money?" +he asked in an eager whisper that seemed to say he saw a solution of +the difficulty if it were financial. + +"Oh dear no. I have all the money, and more, that anyone can wish." + +The old man's countenance fell. If money would not remedy the state of +things, then he was out of his depth. + +"Won't you tell me the trouble? Perhaps I can suggest----" + +"It's nothing you can help in, papa. It is nothing much, any way. The +Misses Sneed won't call on me, that's all." + +The old man knit his brows and thoughtfully scratched his chin. + +"Won't call?" he echoed helplessly. + +"No. They think I'm not good enough to associate with them, I suppose." + +The bushy eyebrows came down until they almost obscured the eyes, and a +dangerous light seemed to scintillate out from under them. + +"You must be mistaken. Good gracious, I am worth ten times what old +Sneed is. Not good enough? Why, my name on a cheque is----" + +"It isn't a question of cheques, papa," wailed the girl; "it's a +question of society. I was a painter's model before I married Ed., and, +no matter how rich I am, society won't have anything to do with me." + +The old man absent-mindedly rubbed his chin, which was a habit he had +when perplexed. He was face to face with a problem entirely outside his +province. Suddenly a happy thought struck him. + +"Those Sneed women!" he said in tones of great contempt, "what do +_they_ amount to, anyhow? They're nothing but sour old maids. They +never were half so pretty as you. Why should you care whether they +called on you or not." + +"They represent society. If they came, others would." + +"But society can't have anything against you. Nobody has ever said a +word against your character, model or no model." + +The girl shook her head hopelessly. + +"Character does not count in society." + +In this statement she was of course absurdly wrong, but she felt bitter +at all the world. Those who know society are well aware that character +counts for everything within its sacred precincts. So the unjust remark +should not be set down to the discredit of an inexperienced girl. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," cried the old man, brightening up. "I'll +speak to Gen. Sneed to-morrow. I'll arrange the whole business in five +minutes." + +"Do you think that would do any good?" asked young Mrs. Druce, +dubiously. + +"Good? You bet it'll do good! It will settle the whole thing. I've +helped Sneed out of a pinch before now, and he'll fix up a little +matter like that for me in no time. I'll just have a quiet talk with +the General to-morrow, and you'll see the Sneed carriage at the door +next day at the very latest." He patted her smooth white hand +affectionately. "So don't you trouble, little girl, about trifles; and +whenever you want help, you just tell the old man. He knows a thing or +two yet, whether it is on Wall Street or Fifth Avenue." + +Sneed was known in New York as the General, probably because he had +absolutely no military experience whatever. Next to Druce he had the +most power in the financial world of America, but there was a great +distance between the first and the second. If it came to a deal in +which the General and all the world stood against Druce, the average +Wall Street man would have bet on Druce against the whole combination. +Besides this, the General had the reputation of being a "square" man, +and that naturally told against him, for every one knew that Druce was +utterly unscrupulous. But if Druce and Sneed were known to be together +in a deal, then the financial world of New York ran for shelter. +Therefore when New York saw old Druce come in with the stealthy tread +of a two-legged leopard and glance furtively around the great room, +singling out Sneed with an almost imperceptible side nod, retiring with +him into a remote corner where more ruin had been concocted than on any +other spot on earth, and talking there eagerly with him, a hush fell on +the vast assemblage of men, and for the moment the financial heart of +the nation ceased to beat. When they saw Sneed take out his note-book, +nodding assent to whatever proposition Druce was making, a cold shiver +ran up the financial backbone of New York; the shiver communicated +itself to the electric nerve-web of the world, and storm signals began +to fly in the monetary centres of London, Paris, Berlin, and Vienna. + +Uncertainty paralysed the markets of the earth because two old gamblers +were holding a whispered conversation with a multitude of men watching +them out of the corners of their eyes. + +"I'd give half a million to know what those two old fiends are +concocting," said John P. Buller, the great wheat operator; and he +meant it; which goes to show that a man does not really know what he +wants, and would be very dissatisfied if he got it. + +"Look here, General," said Druce, "I want you to do me a favour." + +"All right," replied the General. "I'm with you." + +"It's about my little girl," continued Druce, rubbing his chin, not +knowing just how to explain matters in the cold financial atmosphere of +the place in which they found themselves. + +"Oh! About Ed.'s wife," said Sneed, looking puzzled. + +"Yes. She's fretting her heart out because your two girls won't call +upon her. I found her crying about it yesterday afternoon." + +"Won't call?" cried the General, a bewildered look coming over his +face. "_Haven't_ they called yet? You see, I don't bother much about that +sort of thing." + +"Neither do I. No, they haven't called. I don't suppose they mean +anything by it, but my little girl thinks they do, so I said I would +speak to you about it." + +"Well, I'm glad you did. I'll see to that the moment I get home. What +time shall I tell them to call?" The innocent old man, little +comprehending what he was promising, pulled out his note-book and +pencil, looking inquiringly at Druce. + +"Oh, I don't know. Any time that is convenient for them. I suppose +women know all about that. My little girl is at home most all +afternoon, I guess." + +The two men cordially shook hands, and the market instantly collapsed. + +It took three days for the financial situation to recover its tone. +Druce had not been visible, and that was all the more ominous. The +older operators did not relax their caution, because the blow had not +yet fallen. They shook their heads, and said the cyclone would be all +the worse when it came. + +Old Druce came among them the third day, and there was a set look about +his lips which students of his countenance did not like. The situation +was complicated by the evident fact that the General was trying to +avoid him. At last, however, this was no longer possible, the two men +met, and after a word or two they walked up and down together. Druce +appeared to be saying little, and the firm set of his lips did not +relax, while the General talked rapidly and was seemingly making some +appeal that was not responded to. Stocks instantly went up a few +points. + +"You see, Druce, it's like this," the General was saying, "the women +have their world, and we have ours. They are, in a measure----" + +"Are they going to call?" asked Druce curtly. + +"Just let me finish what I was about to say. Women have their rules of +conduct, and we have----" + +"Are they going to call?" repeated Druce, in the same hard tone of +voice. + +The General removed his hat and drew his handkerchief across his brow +and over the bald spot on his head. He wished himself in any place but +where he was, inwardly cursing woman-kind and all their silly doings. +Bracing up after removing the moisture from his forehead, he took on an +expostulatory tone. + +"See here, Druce, hang it all, don't shove a man into a corner. Suppose +I asked you to go to Mrs. Ed. and tell her not to fret about trifles, +do you suppose she wouldn't, just because you wanted her not to? Come +now!" + +Druce's silence encouraged the General to take it for assent. + +"Very well, then. You're a bigger man than I am, and if you could do +nothing with one young woman anxious to please you, what do you expect +me to do with two old maids as set in their ways as the Palisades. It's +all dumb nonsense, anyhow." + +Druce remained silent. After an irksome pause the hapless General +floundered on-- + +"As I said at first, women have their world, and we have ours. Now, +Druce, you're a man of solid common sense. What would you think if Mrs. +Ed. were to come here and insist on your buying Wabash stock when you +wanted to load up with Lake Shore? Look how absurd that would be. Very +well, then; we have no more right to interfere with the women than they +have to interfere with us." + +"If my little girl wanted the whole Wabash System I'd buy it for her +to-morrow," said Druce, with rising anger. + +"Lord! what a slump that would make in the market!" cried the General, +his feeling of discomfort being momentarily overcome by the +magnificence of Druce's suggestion. "However, all this doesn't need to +make any difference in our friendship. If I can be of any assistance +financially I shall only be too----" + +"Oh, I need your financial assistance!" sneered Druce. He took his +defeat badly. However, in a minute or two, he pulled himself together +and seemed to shake off his trouble. + +"What nonsense I am talking," he said when he had obtained control of +himself. "We all need assistance now and then, and none of us know when +we may need it badly. In fact, there is a little deal I intended to +speak to you about to-day, but this confounded business drove it out of +my mind. How much Gilt Edged security have you in your safe?" + +"About three millions' worth," replied the General, brightening up, now +that they were off the thin ice. + +"That will be enough for me if we can make a dicker. Suppose we adjourn +to your office. This is too public a place for a talk." + +They went out together. + +"So there is no ill-feeling?" said the General, as Druce arose to go +with the securities in his handbag. + +"No. But we'll stick strictly to business after this, and leave social +questions alone. By the way, to show that there is no ill-feeling, will +you come with me for a blow on the sea? Suppose we say Friday. I have +just telegraphed for my yacht, and she will leave Newport to-night. +I'll have some good champagne on board." + +"I thought sailors imagined Friday was an unlucky day!" + +"My sailors don't. Will eight o'clock be too early for you? Twenty- +third Street wharf." + +The General hesitated. Druce was wonderfully friendly all of a sudden, +and he knew enough of him to be just a trifle suspicious. But when he +recollected that Druce himself was going, he said, "Where could a +telegram reach us, if it were necessary to telegraph? The market is a +trifle shaky, and I don't like being out of town all day." + +"The fact that we are both on the yacht will steady the market. But we +can drop in at Long Branch and receive despatches if you think it +necessary." + +"All right," said the General, much relieved. "I'll meet you at Twenty- +third Street at eight o'clock Friday morning, then." + +Druce's yacht, the _Seahound_, was a magnificent steamer, almost +as large as an Atlantic liner. It was currently believed in New York +that Druce kept her for the sole purpose of being able to escape in +her, should an exasperated country ever rise in its might and demand +his blood. It was rumoured that the _Seahound_ was ballasted with +bars of solid gold and provisioned for a two years' cruise. Mr. Buller, +however, claimed that the tendency of nature was to revert to original +conditions, and that some fine morning Druce would hoist the black +flag, sail away, and become a _real_ pirate. + +The great speculator, in a very nautical suit, was waiting for the +General when he drove up, and, the moment he came aboard, lines were +cast off and the Seahound steamed slowly down the bay. The morning was +rather thick, so they were obliged to move cautiously, and before they +reached the bar the fog came down so densely that they had to stop, +while bell rang and whistle blew. They were held there until it was +nearly eleven o'clock, but time passed quickly, for there were all the +morning papers to read, neither of the men having had an opportunity to +look at them before leaving the city. + +As the fog cleared away and the engines began to move, the captain sent +down and asked Mr. Druce if he would come on deck for a moment. The +captain was a shrewd man, and understood his employer. + +"There's a tug making for us, sir, signalling us to stop. Shall we +stop?" + +Old Druce rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and looked over the stern of +the yacht. He saw a tug, with a banner of black smoke, tearing after +them, heaping up a ridge of white foam ahead of her. Some flags +fluttered from the single mast in front, and she shattered the air with +short hoarse shrieks of the whistle. + +"Can she overtake us?" + +The captain smiled. "Nothing in the harbour can overtake us, sir." + +"Very well. Full steam ahead. Don't answer the signals. You did not +happen to see them, you know!" + +"Quite so, sir," replied the captain, going forward. + +Although the motion of the _Seahound's_ engines could hardly be +felt, the tug, in spite of all her efforts, did not seem to be gaining. +When the yacht put on her speed the little steamer gradually fell +farther and farther behind, and at last gave up the hopeless chase. +When well out at sea something went wrong with the engines, and there +was a second delay of some hours. A stop at Long Branch was therefore +out of the question. + +"I told you Friday was an unlucky day," said the General. + +It was eight o'clock that evening before the _Seahound_ stood off +from the Twenty-third Street wharf. + +"I'll have to put you ashore in a small boat," said Druce: "you won't +mind that, I hope. The captain is so uncertain about the engines that +he doesn't want to go nearer land." + +"Oh, I don't mind in the least. Good-night. I've had a lovely day." + +"I'm glad you enjoyed it. We will take another trip together some time, +when I hope so many things won't happen as happened to-day." + +The General saw that his carriage was waiting for him, but the waning +light did not permit him to recognise his son until he was up on dry +land once more. The look on his son's face appalled the old man. + +"My God! John, what has happened?" + +[Illustration: "WHAT HAS HAPPENED?"] + +"Everything's happened. Where are the securities that were in the +safe?" + +"Oh, they're all right," said his father, a feeling of relief coming +over him. Then the thought flashed through his mind: How did John know +they were not in the safe? Sneed kept a tight rein on his affairs, and +no one but himself knew the combination that would open the safe. + +"How did you know that the securities were not there?" + +"Because I had the safe blown open at one o'clock to-day." + +"Blown open! For Heaven's sake, why?" + +"Step into the carriage, and I'll tell you on the way home. The bottom +dropped out of everything. All the Sneed stocks went down with a run. +We sent a tug after you, but that old devil had you tight. If I could +have got at the bonds, I think I could have stopped the run. The +situation might have been saved up to one o'clock, but after that, when +the Street saw we were doing nothing, all creation couldn't have +stopped it. Where are the bonds?" + +"I sold them to Druce." + +"What did you get? Cash?" + +"I took his cheque on the Trust National Bank." + +"Did you cash it? Did you cash it?" cried the young man. "And if you +did, where is the money?" + +"Druce asked me as a favour not to present the cheque until to-morrow." + +The young man made a gesture of despair. + +"The Trust National went to smash to-day at two. We are paupers, +father; we haven't a cent left out of the wreck. That cheque business +is so evidently a fraud that--but what's the use of talking. Old Druce +has the money, and he can buy all the law he wants in New York. God! +I'd like to have a seven seconds' interview with him with a loaded +seven-shooter in my hand! We'd see how much the law would do for him +then." + +General Sneed despondently shook his head. + +"It's no use, John," he said. "We're in the same business ourselves, +only this time we got the hot end of the poker. But he played it low +down on me, pretending to be friendly and all that." The two men did +not speak again until the carriage drew up at the brown stone mansion, +which earlier in the day Sneed would have called his own. Sixteen +reporters were waiting for them, but the old man succeeded in escaping +to his room, leaving John to battle with the newspaper men. + +Next morning the papers were full of the news of the panic. They said +that old Druce had gone in his yacht for a trip up the New England +coast. They deduced from this fact, that, after all, Druce might not +have had a hand in the disaster; everything was always blamed on Druce. +Still it was admitted that, whoever suffered, the Druce stocks were all +right. They were quite unanimously frank in saying that the Sneeds were +wiped out, whatever that might mean. The General had refused himself to +all the reporters, while young Sneed seemed to be able to do nothing +but swear. + +Shortly before noon General Sneed, who had not left the house, received +a letter brought by a messenger. + +He feverishly tore it open, for he recognised on the envelope the well- +known scrawl of the great speculator. + +DEAR SNEED (it ran), + +You will see by the papers that I am off on a cruise, but they +are as wrong as they usually are when they speak of me. I learn +there was a bit of a flutter in the market while we were away +yesterday, and I am glad to say that my brokers, who are sharp +men, did me a good turn or two. I often wonder why these flurries come, +but I suppose it is to let a man pick up some sound stocks at a +reasonable rate, if he has the money by him. Perhaps they are also sent +to teach humility to those who might else become purse-proud. We are +but finite creatures, Sneed, here to-day and gone to-morrow. How +foolish a thing is pride! And that reminds me that if your two +daughters should happen to think as I do on the uncertainty of riches, +I wish you would ask them to call. I have done up those securities in a +sealed package and given the parcel to my daughter-in-law. She has no +idea what the value of it is, but thinks it a little present from me to +your girls. If, then, they should happen to call, she will hand it to +them; if not, I shall use the contents to found a college for the +purpose of teaching manners to young women whose grandfather used to +feed pigs for a living, as indeed my own grandfather did. Should the +ladies happen to like each other, I think I can put you on to a deal +next week that will make up for Friday. I like you, Sneed, but you have +no head for business. Seek my advice oftener. + + Ever yours, + DRUCE. + +The Sneed girls called on Mrs. Edward Druce. + + + + +TRANSFORMATION. + + +If you grind castor sugar with an equal quantity of chlorate of potash, +the result is an innocent-looking white compound, sweet to the taste, +and sometimes beneficial in the case of a sore throat. But if you dip a +glass rod into a small quantity of sulphuric acid, and merely touch the +harmless-appearing mixture with the wet end of the rod, the dish which +contains it becomes instantly a roaring furnace of fire, vomiting forth +a fountain of burning balls, and filling the room with a dense, black, +suffocating cloud of smoke. + +So strange a combination is that mystery which we term Human Nature, +that a touch of adverse circumstance may transform a quiet, peaceable, +law-abiding citizen into a malefactor whose heart is filled with a +desire for vengeance, stopping at nothing to accomplish it. + +In a little narrow street off the broad Rue de Rennes, near the great +terminus of Mont-Parnasse, stood the clock-making shop of the brothers +Delore. The window was filled with cheap clocks, and depending from a +steel spring attached to the top of the door was a bell, which rang +when any one entered, for the brothers were working clockmakers, +continually busy in the room at the back of the shop, and trade in the +neighbourhood was not brisk enough to allow them to keep an assistant. +The brothers had worked amicably in this small room for twenty years, +and were reported by the denizens of that quarter of Paris to be +enormously rich. They were certainly contented enough, and had plenty +of money for their frugal wants, as well as for their occasional +exceedingly mild dissipations at the neighbouring café. They had always +a little money for the church, and a little money for charity, and no +one had ever heard either of them speak a harsh word to any living +soul, and least of all to each other. When the sensitively adjusted +bell at the door announced the arrival of a possible customer, Adolph +left his work and attended to the shop, while Alphonse continued his +task without interruption. The former was supposed to be the better +business man of the two, while the latter was admittedly the better +workman. They had a room over the shop, and a small kitchen over the +workroom at the back; but only one occupied the bedroom above, the +other sleeping in the shop, as it was supposed that the wares there +displayed must have formed an almost irresistible temptation to any +thief desirous of accumulating a quantity of time-pieces. The brothers +took week-about at guarding the treasures below, but in all the twenty +years no thief had yet disturbed their slumbers. + +One evening, just as they were about to close the shop and adjourn +together to the café, the bell rang, and Adolph went forward to learn +what was wanted. He found waiting for him an unkempt individual of +appearance so disreputable, that he at once made up his mind that here +at last was the thief for whom they had waited so long in vain. The +man's wild, roving eye, that seemed to search out every corner and +cranny in the place and rest nowhere for longer than a second at a +time, added to Delore's suspicions. The unsavoury visitor was evidently +spying out the land, and Adolph felt certain he would do no business +with him at that particular hour, whatever might happen later. + +The customer took from under his coat, after a furtive glance at the +door of the back room, a small paper-covered parcel, and, untying the +string somewhat hurriedly, displayed a crude piece of clockwork made of +brass. Handing it to Adolph, he said, "How much would it cost to make a +dozen like that?" + +Adolph took the piece of machinery in his hand and examined it. It was +slightly concave in shape, and among the wheels was a strong spring. +Adolph wound up this spring, but so loosely was the machinery put +together that when he let go the key, the spring quickly uncoiled +itself with a whirring noise of the wheels. + +"This is very bad workmanship," said Adolph. + +"It is," replied the man, who, notwithstanding his poverty-stricken +appearance, spoke like a person of education. "That is why I come to +you for better workmanship." + +"What is it used for?" + +The man hesitated for a moment. "It is part of a clock," he said at +last. + +"I don't understand it. I never saw a clock made like this." + +"It is an alarm attachment," replied the visitor, with some impatience. +"It is not necessary that you should understand it. All I ask is, can +you duplicate it and at what price?" + +"But why not make the alarm machinery part of the clock? It would be +much cheaper than to make this and then attach it to a clock." + +The man made a gesture of annoyance. + +"Will you answer my question?" he said gruffly. + +"I don't believe you want this as part of a clock. In fact, I think I +can guess why you came in here," replied Adolph, as innocent as a child +of any correct suspicion of what the man was, thinking him merely a +thief, and hoping to frighten him by this hint of his own shrewdness. + +His visitor looked loweringly at him, and then with a quick eye, seemed +to measure the distance from where he stood to the pavement, evidently +meditating flight. + +"I will see what my brother says about this," said Adolph. But before +Adolph could call his brother, the man bolted and was gone in an +instant, leaving the mechanism in the hands of the bewildered +clockmaker. + +Alphonse, when he heard the story of their belated customer, was even +more convinced than his brother of the danger of the situation. The man +was undoubtedly a thief, and the bit of clockwork merely an excuse for +getting inside the fortress. The brothers, with much perturbation, +locked up the establishment, and instead of going to their usual café, +they betook themselves as speedily as possible to the office of the +police, where they told their suspicions and gave a description of the +supposed culprit. The officer seemed much impressed by their story. + +"Have you brought with you the machine he showed you?" + +"No. It is at the shop," said Adolph. "It was merely an excuse to get +inside, I am sure of that, for no clockmaker ever made it." + +"Perhaps," replied the officer. "Will you go and bring it? Say nothing +of this to any one you meet, but wrap the machine in paper and bring it +as quickly and as quietly as you can. I would send a man with you, only +I do not wish to attract attention." + +Before morning the man, who gave his name as Jacques Picard, was +arrested, but the authorities made little by their zeal. Adolph Delore +swore positively that Picard and his visitor were the same person, but +the prisoner had no difficulty in proving that he was in a café two +miles away at the time the visitor was in Delore's shop, while Adolph +had to admit that the shop was rather dark when the conversation about +the clockwork took place. Picard was ably defended, and his advocate +submitted that, even if he had been in the shop as stated by Delore, +and had bargained as alleged for the mechanism, there was nothing +criminal in that, unless the prosecution could show that he intended to +put what he bought to improper uses. As well arrest a man who entered +to buy a key for his watch. So Picard was released, although the +police, certain he was one of the men they wanted, resolved to keep a +close watch on his future movements. But the suspected man, as if to +save them unnecessary trouble, left two days later for London, and +there remained. + +For a week Adolph slept badly in the shop, for although he hoped the +thief had been frightened away by the proceedings taken against him, +still, whenever he fell asleep, he dreamt of burglars, and so awoke +himself many times during the long nights. + +When it came the turn of Alphonse to sleep in the shop, Adolph hoped +for an undisturbed night's rest in the room above, but the Fates +were against him. Shortly after midnight he was flung from his bed +to the floor, and he felt the house rocking as if an earthquake had +passed under Paris. He got on his hands and knees in a dazed +condition, with a roar as of thunder in his ears, mingled with +the sharp crackle of breaking glass. He made his way to the +window, wondering whether he was asleep or awake, and found the +window shattered. The moonlight poured into the deserted street, and he +noticed a cloud of dust and smoke rising from the front of the shop. He +groped his way through the darkness towards the stairway and went down, +calling his brother's name; but the lower part of the stair had been +blown away, and he fell upon the débris below, lying there half- +stunned, enveloped in suffocating smoke. + +When Adolph partially recovered consciousness, he became aware that two +men were helping him out over the ruins of the shattered shop. He was +still murmuring the name of his brother, and they were telling him, in +a reassuring tone, that everything was all right, although he vaguely +felt that what they said was not true. They had their arms linked in +his, and he stumbled helplessly among the wreckage, seeming to have +lost control over his limbs. He saw that the whole front of the shop +was gone, and noticed through the wide opening that a crowd stood in +the street, kept back by the police. He wondered why he had not seen +all these people when he looked out of the shattered window. When they +brought him to the ambulance, he resisted slightly, saying he wanted to +go to his brother's assistance, who was sleeping in the shop, but with +gentle force they placed him in the vehicle, and he was driven away to +the hospital. + +For several days Adolph fancied that he was dreaming, that he would +soon awake and take up again the old pleasant, industrious life. It was +the nurse who told him he would never see his brother again, adding by +way of consolation that death had been painless and instant, that the +funeral had been one of the grandest that quarter of Paris had ever +seen, naming many high and important officials who had attended it. +Adolph turned his face to the wall and groaned. His frightful dream was +to last him his life. + +When he trod the streets of Paris a week later, he was but the shadow +of his former portly self. He was gaunt and haggard, his clothes +hanging on him as if they had been made for some other man, a +fortnight's stubby beard on the face which had always heretofore been +smoothly shaven. He sat silently at the café, and few of his friends +recognised him at first. They heard he had received ample compensation +from the Government, and now would have money enough to suffice him all +his life, without the necessity of working for it, and they looked on +him as a fortunate man. But he sat there listlessly, receiving their +congratulations or condolences with equal apathy. Once he walked past +the shop. The front was boarded up, and glass had been put in the upper +windows. + +He wandered aimlessly through the streets of Paris, some saying he was +insane, and that he was looking for his brother; others, that he was +searching for the murderer. One day he entered the police-office where +he had first made his unlucky complaint. + +"Have you arrested him yet?" he asked of the officer in charge. + +"Whom?" inquired the officer, not recognising his visitor. + +"Picard. I am Adolph Delore." + +"It was not Picard who committed the crime. He was in London at the +time, and is there still." + +"Ah! He said he was in the north of Paris when he was with me in the +south. He is a liar. He blew up the shop." + +"I quite believe he planned it, but the deed was done by another. It +was done by Lamoine, who left for Brussels next morning and went to +London by way of Antwerp. He is living with Picard in London at this +moment." + +"If you know that, why has neither of them been taken?" + +"To know is one thing; to be able to prove quite another. We cannot get +these rascals from England merely on suspicion, and they will take good +care not to set foot in France for some time to come." + +"You are waiting for evidence, then?" + +"We are waiting for evidence." + +"How do you expect to get it?" + +"We are having them watched. They are very quiet just now, but it won't +be for long. Picard is too restless. Then we may arrest some one soon +who will confess." + +"Perhaps I could help. I am going to London. Will you give me Picard's +address?" + +"Here is his address, but I think you had better leave the case alone. +You do not know the language, and you may merely arouse his suspicions +if you interfere. Still, if you learn anything, communicate with me." + +The former frank, honest expression in Adolph's eyes had given place to +a look of cunning, that appealed to the instincts of a French police- +officer. He thought something might come of this, and his instincts did +not mislead him. + +Delore with great craftiness watched the door of the house in London, +taking care that no one should suspect his purpose. He saw Picard come +out alone on several occasions, and once with another of his own +stripe, whom he took to be Lamoine. + +One evening, when crossing Leicester Square, Picard was accosted by a +stranger in his own language. Looking round with a start, he saw at his +side a cringing tramp, worse than shabbily dressed. + +"What did you say?" asked Picard, with a tremor in his voice. + +"Could you assist a poor countryman?" whined Delore. + +"I have no money." + +"Perhaps you could help me to get work. I don't know the language, but +I am a good workman." + +"How can I help you to work? I have no work myself." + +"I would be willing to work for nothing, if I could get a place to +sleep in and something to eat." + +"Why don't you steal? I would if I were hungry. What are you afraid of? +Prison? It is no worse than tramping the streets hungry; I know, for I +have tried both. What is your trade?" + +"I am a watchmaker and a first-class workman, but I have pawned all my +tools. I have tramped from Lyons, but there is nothing doing in my +trade." + +Picard looked at him suspiciously for a few moments. + +"Why did you accost me?" he asked at last. + +"I saw you were a fellow-countryman; Frenchmen have helped me from time +to time." + +"Let us sit down on this bench. What is your name, and how long have +you been in England?" + +"My name is Adolph Carrier, and I have been in London three months." + +"So long as that? How have you lived all that time?" + +"Very poorly, as you may see. I sometimes get scraps from the French +restaurants, and I sleep where I can." + +"Well, I think I can do better than that for you. Come with me." + +Picard took Delore to his house, letting himself in with a latchkey. +Nobody seemed to occupy the place but himself and Lamoine. He led the +way to the top story, and opened a door that communicated with a room +entirely bare of furniture. Leaving Adolph there, Picard went +downstairs again and came up shortly after with a lighted candle in his +hand, followed by Lamoine, who carried a mattress. + +"This will do for you for tonight," said Picard, "and tomorrow we will +see if we can get you any work. Can you make clocks?" + +"Oh yes, and good ones." + +"Very well. Give me a list of the tools and materials you need and I +will get them for you." + +Picard wrote in a note-book the items Adolph recited to him, Lamoine +watching their new employee closely, but saying nothing. Next day a +table and a chair were put into the room, and in the afternoon Picard +brought in the tools and some sheets of brass. + +Picard and Lamoine were somewhat suspicious of their recruit at first, +but he went on industriously with his task, and made no attempt to +communicate with anybody. They soon saw that he was an expert workman, +and a quiet, innocent, half-daft, harmless creature, so he was given +other things to do, such as cleaning up their rooms and going errands +for beer and other necessities of life. + +When Adolph finished his first machine, he took it down to them and +exhibited it with pardonable pride. There was a dial on it exactly like +a clock, although it had but one hand. + +"Let us see it work," said Picard; "set it so that the bell will ring +in three minutes." + +Adolph did as requested, and stood back when the machine began to work +with a scarcely audible tick-tick. Picard pulled out his watch, +and exactly at the third minute the hammer fell on the bell. +"That is very satisfactory," said Picard; "now, can you make the +next one slightly concave, so that a man may strap it under his coat +without attracting attention? Such a shape is useful when passing the +Customs." + +"I can make it any shape you like, and thinner than this one if you +wish it." + +"Very well. Go out and get us a quart of beer, and we will drink to +your success. Here is the money." + +Adolph obeyed with his usual docility, staying out, however, somewhat +longer than usual. Picard, impatient at the delay, spoke roughly to him +when he returned, and ordered him to go upstairs to his work. Adolph +departed meekly, leaving them to their beer. + +"See that you understand that machine, Lamoine," said Picard. "Set it +at half an hour." + +Lamoine, turning the hand to the figure VI on the dial, set the works +in motion, and to the accompaniment of its quiet tick-tick they drank +their beer. + +"He seems to understand his business," said Lamoine. + +"Yes," answered Picard. "What heady stuff this English beer is. I wish +we had some good French bock; this makes me drowsy." + +Lamoine did not answer; he was nodding in his chair. Picard threw +himself down on his mattress in one corner of the room; Lamoine, when +he slipped from his chair, muttered an oath, and lay where he fell. + +Twenty minutes later the door stealthily opened, and Adolph's head +cautiously reconnoitred the situation, coming into the silent apartment +inch by inch, his crafty eyes rapidly searching the room and filling +with malicious glee when he saw that everything was as he had planned. +He entered quietly and closed the door softly behind him. He had a +great coil of thin strong cord in his hand. Approaching the sleeping +men on tiptoe, he looked down on them for a moment, wondering whether +the drug had done its work sufficiently well for him to proceed. The +question was settled for him with a suddenness that nearly unnerved +him. An appalling clang of the bell, a startling sound that seemed loud +enough to wake the dead, made him spring nearly to the ceiling. He +dropped his rope and clung to the door in a panic of dread, his +palpitating heart nearly suffocating him with its wild beating, staring +with affrighted eyes at the machine which had given such an unexpected +alarm. Slowly recovering command over himself, he turned his gaze on +the sleepers: neither had moved; both were breathing as heavily as +ever. + +Pulling himself together, he turned his attention first to Picard, as +the more dangerous man of the two, should an awakening come before he +was ready for it. He bound Picard's wrists tightly together; then his +ankles, his knees, and his elbows. He next did the same for Lamoine. +With great effort he got Picard in a seated position on his chair, +tying him there with coil after coil of the cord. So anxious was he to +make everything secure, that he somewhat overdid the business, making +the two seem like seated mummies swathed in cord. The chairs he +fastened immovably to the floor, then he stood back and gazed with a +sigh at the two grim seated figures, with their heads drooping +helplessly forward on their corded breasts, looking like silent +effigies of the dead. + +Mopping his perspiring brow, Adolph now turned his attention to the +machine that had startled him so when he first came in. He examined +minutely its mechanism to see that everything was right. Going to the +cupboard, he took up a false bottom and lifted carefully out a number +of dynamite cartridges that the two sleepers had stolen from a French +mine. These he arranged in a battery, tying them together. He raised +the hammer of the machine, and set the hand so that the blow would fall +in sixty minutes after the machinery was set in motion. The whole +deadly combination he placed on a small table, which he shoved close in +front of the two sleeping men. This done, he sat down on a chair +patiently to await the awakening. The room was situated at the back of +the house, and was almost painfully still, not a sound from the street +penetrating to it. The candle burnt low, guttered and went out, but +Adolph sat there and did not light another. The room was still only +half in darkness, for the moon shone brightly in at the window, +reminding Adolph that it was just a month since he had looked out on a +moonlit street in Paris, while his brother lay murdered in the room +below. The hours dragged along, and Adolph sat as immovable as the two +figures before him. The square of moonlight, slowly moving, at last +illuminated the seated form of Picard, imperceptibly climbing up, as +the moon sank, until it touched his face. He threw his head first to +one side, then back, yawned, drew a deep breath, and tried to struggle. + +"Lamoine," he cried "Adolph. What the devil is this? I say, here. Help! +I am betrayed." + +"Hush," said Adolph, quietly. "Do not cry so loud. You will wake +Lamoine, who is beside you. I am here; wait till I light a candle, the +moonlight is waning." + +"Adolph, you fiend, you are in league with the police." + +"No, I am not. I will explain everything in a moment. Have patience." +Adolph lit a candle, and Picard, rolling his eyes, saw that the slowly +awakening Lamoine was bound like himself. + +Lamoine, glaring at his partner and not understanding what had +happened, hissed-- + +"You have turned traitor, Picard; you have informed, curse you!" + +"Keep quiet, you fool. Don't you see I am bound as tightly as you?" + +"There has been no traitor and no informing, nor need of any. A month +ago tonight, Picard, there was blown into eternity a good and honest +man, who never harmed you or any one. I am his brother. I am Adolph +Delore, who refused to make your infernal machine for you. I am much +changed since then; but perhaps now you recognise me?" + +"I swear to God," cried Picard, "that I did not do it. I was in London +at the time. I can prove it. There is no use in handing me over to the +police, even though, perhaps, you think you can terrorise this poor +wretch into lying against me." + +"Pray to the God, whose name you so lightly use, that the police you +fear may get you before I have done with you. In the police, strange as +it may sound to you, is your only hope; but they will have to come +quickly if they are to save you. Picard, you have lived, perhaps, +thirty-five years on this earth. The next hour of your life will be +longer to you than all these years." + +Adolph put the percussion cap in its place and started the mechanism. +For a few moments its quiet tick-tick was the only sound heard in the +room, the two bound men staring with wide-open eyes at the dial of the +clock, while the whole horror of their position slowly broke upon them. + +Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick. Each +man's face paled, and rivulets of sweat ran down from their brows. +Suddenly Picard raised his voice in an unearthly shriek. + +"I expected that," said Adolph, quietly. "I don't think anyone can +hear, but I will gag you both, so that no risks may be run." When this +was done, he said: "I have set the clockwork at sixty minutes; seven of +those are already spent. There is still time enough left for meditation +and repentance. I place the candle here so that its rays will shine +upon the dial. When you have made your own peace, pray for the souls of +any you have sent into eternity without time for preparation." + +Delore left the room as softly as he had entered it, and the doomed men +tried ineffectually to cry out as they heard the key turning in the +door. + +The authorities knew that someone had perished in that explosion, but +whether it was one man or two they could not tell. + + + + +THE SHADOW OF THE GREENBACK. + + +Hickory Sam needed but one quality to be perfect. He should have been +an arrant coward. He was a blustering braggart, always boasting of the +men he had slain, and the odds he had contended against; filled with +stories of his own valour, but alas! he shot straight, and rarely +missed his mark, unless he was drunker than usual. It would have been +delightful to tell how this unmitigated ruffian had been "held up" by +some innocent tenderfoot from the East, and made to dance at the muzzle +of a quite new and daintily ornamented revolver, for the loud-mouthed +blowhard seemed just the man to flinch when real danger confronted him; +but, sad to say, there was nothing of the white feather about Hickory +Sam, for he feared neither man, nor gun, nor any combination of them. +He was as ready to fight a dozen as one, and once had actually "held +up" the United States army at Fort Concho, beating a masterly retreat +backwards with his face to the foe, holding a troop in check with his +two seven-shooters that seemed to point in every direction at once, +making every man in the company feel, with a shiver up his back, that +he individually was "covered," and would be the first to drop if firing +actually began. + +Hickory Sam appeared suddenly in Salt Lick, and speedily made good his +claim to be the bad man of the district. Some old-timers disputed Sam's +arrogant contention, but they did not live long enough to maintain +their own well-earned reputations as objectionable citizens. Thus +Hickory Sam reigned supreme in Salt Lick, and every one in the place +was willing and eager to stand treat to Sam, or to drink with him when +invited. + +Sam's chief place of resort in Salt Lick was the Hades Saloon, kept by +Mike Davlin. Mike had not originally intended this to be the title of +his bar, having at first named it after a little liquor cellar he kept +in his early days in Philadelphia, called "The Shades," but some cowboy +humourist, particular about the external fitness of things, had scraped +out the letter "S," and so the sign over the door had been allowed to +remain. Mike did not grumble. He had taken a keen interest in politics +in Philadelphia, but an unexpected spasm of civic virtue having +overtaken the city some years before, Davlin had been made a victim, +and he was forced to leave suddenly for the West, where there was no +politics, and where a man handy at mixing drinks was looked upon as a +boon by the rest of the community. Mike did not grumble when even the +name "Hades" failed to satisfy the boys in their thirst for appropriate +nomenclature, and when they took to calling the place by a shorter and +terser synonym beginning with the same letter, he made no objections. + +Mike was an adaptive man, who mixed drinks, but did not mix in rows. He +protected himself by not keeping a revolver, and by admitting that he +could not hit his own saloon at twenty yards distance. A residence in +the quiet city of Philadelphia is not conducive to the nimbling of the +trigger finger. When the boys in the exuberance of their spirits began +to shoot, Mike promptly ducked under his counter and waited till the +clouds of smoke rolled by. He sent in a bill for broken glass, bottles, +and the damage generally, when his guests were sober again, and his +accounts were always paid. Mike was a deservedly popular citizen in +Salt Lick, and might easily have been elected to the United States +Congress, if he had dared to go east again. But, as he himself said, he +was out of politics. + +It was the pleasant custom of the cowboys at Buller's ranch to come +into Salt Lick on pay-days and close up the town. These periodical +visits did little harm to any one, and seemed to be productive of much +amusement for the boys. They rode at full gallop through the one street +of the place like a troop of cavalry, yelling at the top of their +voices and brandishing their weapons. + +The first raid through Salt Lick was merely a warning, and all +peaceably inclined inhabitants took it as such, retiring forthwith to +the seclusion of their houses. On their return trip the boys winged or +lamed, with unerring aim, any one found in the street. They seldom +killed a wayfarer; if a fatality ensued it was usually the result of +accident, and much to the regret of the boys, who always apologised +handsomely to the surviving relatives, which expression of regret was +generally received in the amicable spirit with which it was tendered. +There was none of the rancour of the vendetta in these little +encounters; if a man happened to be blotted out, it was his ill luck, +that was all, and there was rarely any thought of reprisal. + +This perhaps was largely due to the fact that the community was a +shifting one, and few had any near relatives about them, for, although +the victim might have friends, they seldom held him in such esteem as +to be willing to take up his quarrel when there was a bullet hole +through him. Relatives, however, are often more difficult to deal with +than are friends, in cases of sudden death, and this fact was +recognised by Hickory Sam, who, when he was compelled to shoot the +younger Holt brother in Mike's saloon, promptly went, at some personal +inconvenience, and assassinated the elder, before John Holt heard the +news. As Sam explained to Mike when he returned, he had no quarrel with +John Holt, but merely killed him in the interests of peace, for he +would have been certain to draw and probably shoot several citizens +when he heard of his brother's death, because, for some unexplained +reason, the brothers were fond of each other. + +When Hickory Sam was comparatively new to Salt Lick he allowed the +Buller's ranch gang to close up the town without opposition. It was +their custom, when the capital of Coyote county had been closed up to +their satisfaction, to adjourn to Hades and there "blow in" their hard- +earned gains on the liquor Mike furnished. They also added to the +decorations of the saloon ceiling. Several cowboys had a gift of +twirling their Winchester repeating rifles around the fore finger and +firing it as the flying muzzle momentarily pointed upwards. The man who +could put the most bullets within the smallest space in the roof was +the expert of the occasion, and didn't have to pay for his drinks. + +This exhibition might have made many a man quail, but it had no effect +on Hickory Sam, who leant against the bar and sneered at the show as +child's play. + +"Perhaps you think you can do it," cried the champion. "I bet you the +drinks you can't." + +"I don't have to," said Hickory Sam, with the calm dignity of a dead +shot. "I don't have to, but I'll tell you what I can do. I can nip the +heart of a man with this here gun" showing his seven-shooter, "me a- +standing in Hades here and he a-coming out of the bank." For Salt Lick, +being a progressive town, had the Coyote County Bank some distance down +the street on the opposite side from the saloon. + +"You're a liar," roared the champion, whereupon all the boys grasped +their guns and were on the look out for trouble. + +Hickory Sam merely laughed, strode to the door, threw it open, and +walked out to the middle of the deserted thoroughfare. + +"I'm a bad man from Way Back," he yelled at the top of his voice. "I'm +the toughest cuss in Coyote county, and no darned greasers from +Buller's can close up this town when I'm in it. You hear me! Salt +Lick's wide open, and I'm standing in the street to prove it." + +It was bad enough to have the town declared open when fifteen of them +in a body had proclaimed it closed, but in addition to this to be +called "greasers" was an insult not to be borne. A cowboy despises a +Mexican almost as much as he does an Indian. With a soul-terrifying +yell the fifteen were out of the saloon and on their horses like a +cyclone. They went down the street with tornado speed, wheeling about, +some distance below the temporarily closed bank, and, charging up again +at full gallop, fired repeatedly in the direction of Hickory Sam, who +was crouching behind an empty whiskey barrel in front of the saloon +with a "gun" in either hand. + +Sam made good his contention by nipping the heart of the champion when +opposite the bank, who plunged forward on his face and threw the +cavalcade into confusion. Then Sam stood up, and regardless of the +scattering shots, fired with both revolvers, killing the foremost man +of the troop and slaughtering three horses, which instantly changed the +charge into a rout. He then retired to Hades and barricaded the door. +Mike was nowhere to be seen. + +But the boys knew when they had enough. They made no attack on the +saloon, but picked up their dead, and, thoroughly sobered, made their +way, much more slowly than they came, back to Buller's ranch. + +When it was evident that they had gone, Mike cautiously emerged from +his place of retirement, as Sam was vigorously pounding on the bar, +threatening that if a drink were not forthcoming he would go round +behind the bar and help himself. + +"I'm a law and order man," he explained to Davlin, "and I won't have no +toughs from Buller's ranch close up this town and interfere with +commerce. Every man has got to respect the Constitution of the United +States as long as my gun can bark, you bet your life!" + +Mike hurriedly admitted that he was perfectly right, and asked him what +he would have, forgetting in his agitation that Sam took one thing +only, and that one thing straight. + +Next day old Buller himself came in from his ranch to see if anything +could be done about this latest affray. It was bad enough to lose two +of his best herdsmen in a foolish contest of this kind, but to have +three trained horses killed as well, was disgusting. Buller had been +one of the boys himself in his young days, but now, having grown +wealthy in the cattle business, he was anxious to see civilisation move +westward with strides a little more rapid than it was taking. He made +the mistake of appealing to the Sheriff, as if that worthy man could be +expected, for the small salary he received, to attempt the arrest of so +dead a shot as Hickory Sam. + +Besides, as the Sheriff quite correctly pointed out, the boys +themselves had been the aggressors in the first place, and if fifteen +of them could not take care of one man behind an empty whiskey barrel, +they had better remain peaceably at home in the future, and do their +pistol practice in the quiet, innocuous retirement of a shooting +gallery. They surely could not expect the strong arm of the law, in the +person of a peaceably-minded Sheriff, to reach out and pull their +chestnuts from the fire when several of them had already burned their +fingers, and when the chestnuts shot and drank as straight as Hickory +Sam. + +Buller, finding the executive portion of the law slow and reluctant to +move, sought advice from his own lawyer, the one disciple of Coke-upon- +Littleton in the place. The lawyer doubted if there was any legal +remedy in the then condition of society around Salt Lick. The safest +plan perhaps would be--mind, he did not advise, but merely suggested-- +to surround Hickory Sam and wipe him off the face of the earth. This +might not be strictly according to law, but it would be effective, if +carried out without an error. + +The particulars of Buller's interview with the Sheriff spread rapidly +in Salt Lick, and caused great indignation among the residents thereof, +especially those who frequented Hades. It was a reproach to the place +that the law should be invoked, all on account of a trivial incident +like that of the day before. Sam, who had been celebrating his victory +at Mike's, heard the news with bitter, if somewhat silent resentment, +for he had advanced so far in his cups that he was all but speechless. +Being a magnanimous man, he would have been quite content to let +bygones be bygones, but this unjustifiable action of Buller's required +prompt and effectual chastisement. He would send the wealthy ranchman +to keep company with his slaughtered herdsmen. + +Thus it was that when Buller mounted his horse after his futile visit +to the lawyer, he found Hickory Sam holding the street with his guns. +The fusillade that followed was without result, which disappointing +termination is accounted for by the fact that Sam was exceedingly drunk +at the time, and the ranchman was out of practice. Seldom had Salt Lick +seen so much powder burnt with no damage except to the window-glass in +the vicinity. Buller went back to the lawyer's office, and afterwards +had an interview with the bank manager. Then he got quietly out of town +unmolested, for Sam, weeping on Mike's shoulder over the inaccuracy of +his aim, gradually sank to sleep in a corner of the saloon. + +Next morning, when Sam woke to temporary sobriety, he sent word to the +ranch that he would shoot old Buller on sight, and, at the same time, +he apologised for the previous eccentricities of his fire, promising +that such an annoying exhibition should not occur again. He signed +himself "The Terror of Salt Lick, and the Champion of Law and Order." + +It was rumoured that old Buller, when he returned to the lawyer's +office, had made his will, and that the bank manager had witnessed it. +This supposed action of Buller was taken as a most delicate compliment +to Hickory Sam's determination and marksmanship, and he was justly +proud of the work he had thrown into the lawyer's hands. + +A week passed before old Buller came to Salt Lick, but when he came, +Hickory Sam was waiting for him, and this time the desperado was not +drunk, that is to say, he had not had more than half a dozen glasses of +forty rod that morning. + +When the rumour came to Hades that old Buller was approaching the town +on horseback and alone, Sam at once bet the drinks that he would fire +but one shot, and so, in a measure, atone for the ineffectual racket he +had made on the occasion of the previous encounter. The crowd stood by, +in safe places, to see the result of the duel. + +Sam, a cocked revolver in his right hand, stood squarely in the centre +of the street, with the sturdy bearing of one who has his quarrel just, +and who besides can pierce the ace spot on a card ten yards further +away than any other man in the county. + +[Illustration: SAM LOOKED SAVAGELY AROUND HIM] + +Old Buller came riding up the street as calmly as if he were on his own +ranch. When almost within range of Sam's pistol, the old man raised +both hands above his head, letting the reins fall on the horse's neck. +In this extraordinary attitude he rode forward, to the amazement of the +crowd and the evident embarrassment of Sam. + +"I am not armed," the old man shouted. "I have come to talk this thing +over and settle it." + +"It's too late for talk," yelled Sam, infuriated at the prospect of +missing his victim after all; "pull your gun, old man, and shoot." + +"I haven't got a gun on me," said Buller, still advancing, and still +holding up his hands. + +"That trick's played out," shouted Sam, flinging up his right hand and +firing. + +The old man, with hands above his head, leant slowly forward like a +falling tower, then pitched head foremost from his horse to the ground, +where he lay without a struggle, face down and arms spread out. + +Great as was the fear of the desperado, an involuntary cry of horror +went up from the crowd. Killing is all right and proper in its way, but +the shooting of an unarmed man who voluntarily held up his hands and +kept them up, was murder, even on the plains. + +Sam looked savagely round him, glaring at the crowd that shrank away +from him, the smoking pistol hanging muzzle downward from his hand. + +"It's all a trick. He had a shooting-iron in his boot. I see the butt +of it sticking out. That's why I fired." + +"I'm not saying nothing," said Mike, as the fierce glance of Hickory +rested on him, "'tain't any affair of mine." + +"Yes, it is," cried Hickory. + +"Why, I didn't have nothin' to do with it," protested the saloon +keeper. + +"No. But you've got somethin' to do with it now. What did we elect you +coroner fur, I'd like to know? You've got to hustle around and panel +your jury an' bring in a verdict of accidental death or something of +that sort. Bring any sort or kind of verdict that'll save trouble in +future. I believe in law and order, I do, an' I like to see things done +regular." + +"But we didn't have no jury for them cowboys," said Mike. + +"Well, cowboys is different. It didn't so much matter about them. +Still, it oughter been done, even with cowboys, if we were more'n half +civilised. Nothin' like havin' things down on the record straight and +shipshape. Now some o' you fellows help me in with the body, and +Mike'll panel his jury in three shakes." + +There is nothing like an energetic public-spirited man for reducing +chaos to order. Things began to assume their normal attitude, and the +crowd began to look to Sam for instruction. He seemed to understand the +etiquette of these occasions, and those present felt that they were +ignorant and inexperienced compared with him. + +The body was laid out on a bench in the room at the back of the saloon, +while the jury and the spectators were accommodated with such seats as +the place afforded, Hickory Sam himself taking an elevated position on +the top of a barrel, where he could, as it were, preside over the +arrangements. It was vaguely felt by those present that Sam bore no +malice towards the deceased, and this was put down rather to his +credit. + +"I think," said the coroner, looking hesitatingly up at Sam, with an +expression which showed he was quite prepared to withdraw his proposal +if it should prove inappropriate, "I think we might have the lawyer +over here. He knows how these things should be done, and he's the only +man in Salt Lick that's got a Bible to swear the jury on. I think they +ought to be sworn." + +"That's a good idea," concurred Sam. "One of you run across for him, +and tell him to bring the book. Nothing like havin' these things +regular and proper and accordin' to law." + +The lawyer had heard of the catastrophe, and he came promptly over to +the saloon, bringing the book with him and some papers in his hand. +There was now no doubt about Sam's knowledge of the proper thing to do, +when it was found that the lawyer quite agreed with him that an +inquest, under the circumstances, was justifiable and according to +precedent. The jury found that the late Mr. Buller had "died through +misadventure," which phrase, sarcastically suggested by the lawyer when +he found that the verdict was going to be "accidental death," pleased +the jury, who at once adopted it. + +When the proceedings were so pleasantly terminated by a verdict +acceptable to all parties, the lawyer cleared his throat and said that +his late client, having perhaps a premonition of his fate, had recently +made his will, and he had desired the lawyer to make the will public as +soon as possible after his death. As the occasion seemed in every way +suitable, the lawyer proposed, with the permission of the coroner, to +read that portion which Mr. Buller hoped would receive the widest +possible publicity. + +Mike glanced with indecision at the lawyer and at Sam sitting high +above the crowd on the barrel. + +"Certainly," said Hickory. "We'd all like to hear the will, although I +suppose it's none of our business." + +The lawyer made no comment on this remark, but bowing to the +assemblage, unfolded a paper and read it. + +Mr. Buller left all his property to his nephew in the East with the +exception of fifty thousand dollars in greenbacks, then deposited in +the Coyote County Bank at Salt Lick. The testator had reason to suspect +that a desperado named Hickory Sam (real name or designation unknown) +had designs on the testator's life. In case these designs were +successful, the whole of this money was to go to the person or persons +who succeeded in removing this scoundrel from the face of the earth. In +case the Sheriff arrested the said Hickory Sam and he was tried and +executed, the money was to be divided between the Sheriff and those who +assisted in the capture. If any man on his own responsibility shot and +killed the said Hickory Sam, the fifty thousand dollars became his sole +property, and would be handed over to him by the bank manager, in whom +Mr. Buller expressed every confidence, as soon as the slayer of Hickory +Sam proved the deed to the satisfaction of the manager. In every case +the bank manager had full control of the disposal of the fund, and +could pay it in bulk, or divide it among those who had succeeded in +eliminating from a contentious world one of its most contentious +members. + +The amazed silence which followed the reading of this document was +broken by a loud jeering and defiant laugh from the man on the barrel. +He laughed long, but no one joined him, and, as he noticed this, his +hilarity died down, being in a measure forced and mechanical. The +lawyer methodically folded up his papers. As some of the jury glanced +down at the face of the dead man who had originated this financial +scheme of _post mortem_ vengeance, they almost fancied they saw a +malicious leer about the half-open eyes and lips. An awed whisper ran +round the assemblage. Each man said to the other under his breath: +"Fif--ty--thous--and--dollars," as if the dwelling on each syllable +made the total seem larger. The same thought was in every man's mind; a +clean, cool little fortune merely for the crooking of a forefinger and +the correct levelling of a pistol barrel. + +The lawyer had silently taken his departure. Sam, soberer than he had +been for many days, slid down from the barrel, and, with his hand on +the butt of his gun, sidled, his back against the wall, towards the +door. No one raised a finger to stop him; all sat there watching him as +if they were hypnotised. He was no longer a man in their eyes, but the +embodiment of a sum to be earned in a moment, for which thousands +worked hard all their lives, often in vain, to accumulate. + +Sam's brain on a problem was not so quick as his finger on a trigger, +but it began to filter slowly into his mind that he was now face to +face with a danger against which his pistol was powerless. Heretofore, +roughly speaking, nearly everybody had been his friend; now the hand of +the world was against him, with a most powerful motive for being +against him; a motive which he himself could understand. For a mere +fraction of fifty thousand dollars he would kill anybody, so long as +the deed could be done with reasonable safety to himself. Why then +should any man stay his hand against him with such a reward hanging +over his head? As Sam retreated backwards from among his former friends +they saw in his eyes what they had never seen there before, something +that was not exactly fear, but a look of furtive suspicion against the +whole human race. + +Out in the open air once again Sam breathed more freely. He must get +away from Salt Lick, and that quickly. Once on the prairie he could +make up his mind what the next move was to be. He kept his revolver in +his hand, not daring to put it into its holster. Every sound made him +jump, and he was afraid to stand in the open, yet he could not remain +constantly with his back to the wall. Poor Buller's horse, fully +accoutred, cropped the grass by the side of the road. To be a horse- +thief was, of course, worse than to be a murderer, but there was no +help for it; without the horse escape was impossible. He secured the +animal with but little trouble and sprang upon its back. + +As he mounted, a shot rang out from the saloon. Sam whirled around in +the saddle, but no one was to be seen; nothing but a thin film of +pistol smoke melting in the air above the open door. The rider fired +twice into the empty doorway, then, with a threat, turned towards the +open country and galloped away, and Salt Lick was far behind him when +night fell. He tethered his horse and threw himself down on the grass, +but dared not sleep. For all he knew, his pursuers might be within a +few rods of where he lay, for he was certain they would be on his trail +as soon as they knew he had left Salt Lick. The prize was too great for +no effort to be made to secure it. + +There is an enemy before whom the strongest and bravest man must +succumb; that enemy is sleeplessness. When daylight found the +desperado, he had not closed an eye all night. His nerve was gone, and, +perhaps for the first time in his life, he felt a thrill of fear. The +emptiness of the prairie, which should have encouraged him, struck a +chill of loneliness into him, and he longed for the sight of a man, +even though he might have to fight him when he approached. He must have +a comrade, he said to himself, if he could find any human being in +straits as terrible as his own, some one who would keep watch and watch +with him through the night; but the comrade must either be ignorant of +the weight of money that hung over the desperado's head, or there must +be a price on his own. An innocent man would not see the use of keeping +such strict watch; a guilty man, on learning the circumstances of the +case, would sell Sam's life to purchase his own freedom. Fifty thousand +dollars, in the desperado's mind, would do anything, and yet he +himself, of all the sixty million people in the land, was the only one +who could not earn it! A comrade, then, innocent or guilty, was +impossible, and yet was absolutely necessary if the wanderer was to +have sleep. + +The horse was in distress through lack of water, and Sam himself was +both hungry and thirsty. His next halting-place must be near a stream, +yet perhaps his safety during the first night was due to the fact that +his pursuers would naturally have looked for him near some watercourse, +and not on the open prairie. + +Ten days later, Mike Davlin was awakened at three in the morning, to +find standing by his bed a gaunt, haggard living skeleton, holding a +candle in one hand, and pointing a cocked revolver at Mike's head with +the other. + +"Get up," said the apparition hoarsely, "and get me something to eat +and drink. Drink first, and be quick about it. Make no noise. Is there +anybody else in the house?" + +"No," said Mike, shivering. "You wait here, Sam, and I'll bring you +something. I thought you were among the Indians, or in Mexico, or in +the Bad Lands long ago." + +"I'm in bad lands enough here. I'll go with you. I'm not going to let +you out of my sight, and no tricks, mind, or you know what will +happen." + +"Surely you trust me, Sam," whined Mike, getting up. + +"I don't trust any living man. Who fired that shot at me when I was +leaving?" + +"So help me," protested Mike, "I dunno. I wasn't in the bar at the +time. I can prove I wasn't. Yer not looking well, Sam." + +"Blister you for a slow dawdler, you'd not look well either, if you had +no sleep for a week and was starved into the bargain. Get a move on +you." + +Sam ate like a wild beast what was set before him, and although he took +a stiff glass of whiskey and water at the beginning, he now drank +sparingly. He laid the revolver on the table at his elbow, and made +Mike sit opposite him. When the ravenous meal was finished, he pushed +the plate from him and looked across at Davlin. + +"When I said I didn't trust you, Mike, I was a liar. I do, an' I'll +prove it. When it's your interest to befriend a man, you'll do it every +time." + +"I will that," said Mike, not quite comprehending what the other had +said. + +"Now listen to me, Mike, and be sure you do exactly as I tell you. Go +to where the bank manager lives and rouse him up as I roused you. He'll +not be afraid when he sees it's you. Tell him you've got me over in the +saloon, and that I've come to rob the bank of that fifty thousand +dollars. Say that I'm desperate and can't be taken short of a dozen +lives, and there is no lie in that, as you know. Tell him you've fallen +in with my plans, and that we'll go over there and hold him up. Tell +him the only chance of catching me is by a trick. He's to open the door +of the place where the money is, and you're to shove me in and lock me +up. But when he opens the door I'll send a bullet through him, and you +and me will divide the money. Nobody will suspect you, for nobody'll +know you were there but the bank man, and he'll be dead. But if you +make one move except as I tell you the first bullet goes through you. +See?" + +Mike's eyes opened wider and wider as the scheme was disclosed. "Lord, +what a head you have, Sam!" he said. "Why didn't you think of that +before? The bank manager is in Austin." + +"What the blazes is he doing there?" + +"He took the money with him to put it in the Austin Bank. He left the +day after you did, for he said the only chance you had, was to get that +money. You might have done this the night you left, but not since." + +"That's straight, is it?" said Sam suspiciously. + +"It's God's truth I'm speaking," asserted Mike earnestly. "You can find +that out for yourself in the morning. Nobody'll molest ye. Yer jus' +dead beat for want o' sleep, I can see that. Go upstairs and go to bed. +I'll keep watch, and not a soul'll know you're here." + +Hickory Sam's shoulders sank when he heard the money was gone, and a +look of despair came into his half closed eyes. He sat thus for a few +moments unheeding the other's advice, then with an effort shook off his +lethargy. + +"No," he said at last, "I won't go to bed. I'd like to enrich you, +Mike, but that would be too easy. Cut me off some slices of this cold +meat and put them between chunks of bread. I want a three days' supply, +and a bottle of whiskey." + +Mike did as requested, and at Sam's orders attended to his horse. It +was still dark, but there was a suggestion of the coming day in the +eastern sky. Buller's horse was as jaded and as fagged out as its +rider. As Sam, stooping like an old man, rode away, Mike hurried to his +bedroom, noiselessly opened the window, and pointed at the back of the +dim retreating man a shot-gun, loaded with slugs. He could hardly have +missed killing both horse and man if he had had the courage to fire, +but his hand trembled, and the drops of perspiration stood on his brow. +He knew that if he missed this time, there would be no question in +Sam's mind about who fired the shot. Resting the gun on the ledge and +keeping his eye along the barrel, he had not the nerve to pull the +trigger. At last the retreating figure disappeared, and with it Mike's +chance of a fortune. He drew in the gun, and softly closed the window, +with a long quivering sigh of regret. + +Sidney Buller went west from Detroit when he received the telegram that +announced his uncle's death and told him he was heir to the ranch. He +was thirty years younger than his uncle had been at the time of his +tragic death, and he bore a remarkable likeness to the old man; that +is, a likeness more than striking, when it was remembered that one had +lived all his life in a city, while the other had spent most of his +days on the plains. The young man had seen the Sheriff on his arrival, +expecting to find that active steps had been taken towards the arrest +of the murderer. The Sheriff assured him that nothing more effective +could be done than what had been done by the dead man himself in +leaving fifty thousand dollars to the killer of Hickory Sam. The +Sheriff had made no move himself, for he had been confidently expecting +every day to hear that Sam was shot. + +Meanwhile, nothing had been heard or seen of the desperado since he +left Salt Lick on the back of the murdered man's horse. Sidney thought +this was rather a slipshod way of administering justice, but he said +nothing, and went back to his ranch. But if the Sheriff had been +indifferent, his own cowboys had been embarrassingly active. They had +deserted the ranch in a body, and were scouring the plains searching +for the murderer, making the mistake of going too far afield. They, +like Mike, had expected Sam would strike for the Bad Lands, and they +rode far and fast to intercept him. Whether they were actuated by a +desire to share the money, a liking for their old "boss," or hatred of +Hickory Sam himself, they themselves would have found it difficult to +tell. Anyhow, it was a man-chase, and their hunting instincts were +keen. + +In the early morning Sidney Buller walked forth from the buildings of +the ranch and struck for the open prairie. The sun was up, but the +morning was still cool. Before he had gone far he saw, approaching the +ranch, a single riderless horse. As the animal came nearer and nearer +it whinnied on seeing him, and finally changed its course and came +directly toward him. Then he saw that there was a man on its back; a +man either dead or asleep. His hand hung down nerveless by the horse's +shoulder, and swung helplessly to and fro as the animal walked on; the +man's head rested on the horse's mane. The horse came up to Sidney, +thrusting its nose out to him, whinnying gently, as if it knew him. + +"Hello?" cried Sidney, shaking the man by the shoulder, "what's the +matter? Are you hurt?" + +Instantly the desperado was wide awake, sitting bolt upright, and +staring at Sidney with terrified recognition in his eyes. He raised his +right hand, but the pistol had evidently dropped from it when he, +overcome by fatigue, and drowsy after his enormous meal, had fallen +asleep. He flung himself off, keeping the animal between himself and +his supposed enemy, pulled the other revolver and fired at Sidney +across the plunging horse. Before he could fire again, Sidney, who was +an athlete, brought down the loaded head of his cane on the pistol +wrist of the ruffian, crying-- + +"Don't fire, you fool, I'm not going to hurt you!" + +As the revolver fell to the ground Sam sprang savagely at the throat of +the young man, who, stepping back, struck his assailant a much heavier +blow than he intended. The leaden knob of the stick fell on Sam's +temple, and he dropped as if shot. Alarmed at the effect of his blow, +Sidney tore open the unconscious man's shirt, and tried to get him to +swallow some whiskey from the bottle he found in his pocket. Appalled +to find all his efforts unavailing, he sprang on the horse and rode to +the stables for help. + +The foreman coming out, cried: "Good heavens, Mr. Buller, that's the +old man's horse. Where did you get him? Well, Jerry, old fellow," he +continued, patting the horse, who whinnied affectionately, "they've +been using you badly, and you've come home to be taken care of. Where +did you find him, Mr. Buller?" + +"Out on the prairie, and I'm afraid I've killed the man who was riding +him. God knows, I didn't intend to, but he fired at me, and I hit +harder than I thought." + +Sidney and the foreman ran out together to where Jerry's late rider lay +on the grass. + +"He's done for," said the foreman, bending over the prostrate figure, +but taking the precaution to have a revolver in his hand. "He's got his +dose, thank God. This is the man who murdered your uncle. Think of him +being knocked over with a city cane, and think of the old man's revenge +money coming back to the family again!" + + + + +THE UNDERSTUDY. + + +The Monarch in the Arabian story had an ointment which, put upon the +right eye, enabled him to see through the walls of houses. If the +Arabian despot had passed along a narrow street leading into a main +thoroughfare of London, one night just before the clock struck twelve, +he would have beheld, in a dingy back room of a large building, a very +strange sight. He would have seen King Charles the First seated in +friendly converse with none other than Oliver Cromwell. + +The room in which these two noted people sat had no carpet and but few +chairs. A shelf extended along one side of the apartment, and it was +covered with mugs containing paint and grease. Brushes were littered +about, and a wig lay in a corner. A mirror stood at either end of the +shelf, and beside these, flared two gas-jets protected by wire baskets. +Hanging from nails driven in the walls were coats, waist-coats, and +trousers of more modern cut than the costumes worn by the two men. + +King Charles, with his pointed beard and his ruffles of lace, leaned +picturesquely back in his chair, which rested against the wall. He was +smoking a very black brier-root pipe, and perhaps his Majesty enjoyed +the weed all the more that there was just above his head, tacked to the +wall, a large placard, containing the words, "No smoking allowed in +this room, or in any other part of the theatre." + +Cromwell, in more sober garments, had an even jauntier attitude than +the King, for he sat astride the chair, with his chin resting on the +back of it, smoking a cigarette in a meerschaum holder. + +"I'm too old, my boy," said the King, "and too fond of my comfort; +besides, I have no longer any ambition. When an actor once realises +that he will never be a Charles Kean or a Macready, then come peace and +the enjoyment of life. Now, with you it is different: you are, if I may +say so in deep affection, young and foolish. Your project is a most +hare-brained scheme. You are throwing away all you have already won." + +"Good gracious!" cried Cromwell, impatiently, "what have I won?" + +"You have certainly won something," resumed the elder calmly, "when a +person of your excitable nature can play so well the sombre, taciturn +character of Cromwell. You have mounted several rungs, and the whole +ladder lifts itself up before you. You have mastered two or three +languages, while I know but one, and that imperfectly. You have studied +the foreign drama, while I have not even read all the plays of +Shakespeare. I can do a hundred parts conventionally well. You will, +some day, do a great part as no other man on earth can act it, and then +fame will come to you. Now you propose recklessly to throw all this +away and go into the wilds of Africa." + +"The particular ladder you offer me," said Cromwell, "I have no desire +to climb; I am sick of the smell of the footlights and the whole +atmosphere of the theatre. I am tired of the unreality of the life we +lead. Why not be a hero instead of mimicking one?" + +"But, my dear boy," said the King, filling his pipe again, "look at the +practical side of things. It costs a fortune to fit out an African +expedition. Where are you to get the money?" + +This question sounded more natural from the lips of the King than did +the answer from the lips of Cromwell. + +"There has been too much force and too much expenditure about African +travel. I do not intend to cross the Continent with arms and the +munitions of war. As you remarked a while ago, I know several European +languages, and if you will forgive what sounds like boasting, I may say +that I have a gift for picking up tongues. I have money enough to fit +myself out with some necessary scientific instruments, and to pay my +passage to the coast. Once there, I shall win my way across the +Continent through love and not through fear." + +"You will lose your head," said King Charles; "they don't understand +that sort of thing out there, and, besides, the idea is not original. +Didn't Livingstone try that tack?" + +"Yes, but people have forgotten Livingstone and his methods. It is now +the explosive bullet and the elephant gun. I intend to learn the +language of the different native tribes I meet, and if a chief opposes +me and will not allow me to pass through his territory, and if I find I +cannot win him over to my side by persuasive talk, then I shall go +round." + +"And what is to be the outcome of it all?" cried Charles. "What is your +object?" + +"Fame, my boy, fame," cried Cromwell, enthusiastically, flinging the +chair from under him and pacing the narrow room. "If I can get from +coast to coast without taking the life of a single native, won't that +be something greater than all the play-acting from now till Doomsday?" + +"I suppose it will," said the King, gloomily; "but you must remember +you are the only friend I have, and I have reached an age when a man +does not pick up friends readily." + +Cromwell stopped in his walk and grasped the King by the hand. "Are you +not the only friend I have," he said; "and why can you not abandon this +ghastly sham and come with me, as I asked you to at first? How can you +hesitate when you think of the glorious freedom of the African forest, +and compare it with this cribbed and cabined and confined business we +are now at?" + +The King shook his head slowly, and knocked the ashes from his pipe. He +seemed to have some trouble in keeping it alight, probably because of +the prohibition on the wall. + +"As I said before," replied the King, "I am too old. There are no pubs +in the African forest where a man can get a glass of beer when he wants +it. No, Ormond, African travel is not for me. If you are resolved to +go, go and God bless you; I will stay at home and carefully nurse your +fame. I shall from time to time drop appetising little paragraphs into +the papers about your wanderings, and when you are ready to come back +to England, all England will be ready to listen to you. You know how +interest is worked up in the theatrical business by judicious puffing +in the papers, and I imagine African exploration requires much the same +treatment. If it were not for the Press, my boy, you could explore +Africa till you were blind and nobody would hear a word about it, so I +will be your advance agent and make ready for your home-coming." + +At this point in the conversation between these two historic +characters, the janitor of the theatre put his head into the room and +reminded the celebrities that it was very late, whereupon both King and +Commoner rose, with some reluctance, and washed themselves; the King +becoming, when he put on the ordinary dress of an Englishman, Mr. James +Spence, while Cromwell, after a similar transformation, became Mr. +Sidney Ormond; and thus, with nothing of Royalty or Dictatorship about +them, the two strolled up the narrow street into the main thoroughfare +and entered their favourite midnight restaurant, where, over a belated +meal, they continued the discussion of the African project, which +Spence persisted in looking upon as one of the maddest expeditions that +had ever come to his knowledge; but the talk was futile, as most talk +is, and within a month from that time Ormond was on the ocean, his face +set towards Africa. + +Another man took Ormond's place at the theatre, and Spence continued to +play his part, as the papers said, in his usual acceptable manner. He +heard from his friend, in due course, when he landed. Then at intervals +came one or two letters showing how he had surmounted the numerous +difficulties with which he had to contend. After a long interval came a +letter from the interior of Africa, sent to the coast by messenger. +Although at the beginning of this letter Ormond said he had but faint +hope of reaching his destination, he, nevertheless, gave a very +complete account of his wanderings and dealings with the natives, and +up to that point his journey seemed to be most satisfactory. He +inclosed several photographs, mostly very bad ones, which he had +managed to develop and print in the wilderness. One, however, of +himself was easily recognisable, and Spence had it copied and enlarged, +hanging the framed enlargement in whatever dressing-room fate assigned +to him; for Spence never had a long engagement at any one theatre. He +was a useful man who could take any part, but had no specialty, and +London was full of such. + +For a long time he heard nothing from his friend, and the newspaper men +to whom Spence indefatigably furnished interesting items about the lone +explorer, began to look upon Ormond as an African Mrs. Harris, and the +paragraphs, to Spence's deep regret, failed to appear. The journalists, +who were a flippant lot, used to accost Spence with "Well, Jimmy, how's +your African friend?" and the more he tried to convince them, the less +they believed in the peace-loving traveller. + +At last there came a final letter from Africa, a letter that filled the +tender, middle-aged heart of Spence with the deepest grief he had ever +known. It was written in a shaky hand, and the writer began by saying that +he knew neither the date nor his locality. He had been ill and delirious +with fever, and was now, at last, in his right mind, but felt the grip +of death upon him. The natives had told him that no one ever recovered +from the malady he had caught in the swamp, and his own feelings led +him to believe that his case was hopeless. The natives had been very +kind to him throughout, and his followers had promised to bring his +boxes to the coast. The boxes contained the collections he had made, +and also his complete journal, which he had written up to the day he +became ill. + +Ormond begged his friend to hand over his belongings to the +Geographical Society, and to arrange for the publication of his +journal, if possible. It might secure for him the fame he had died to +achieve, or it might not; but, he added, he left the whole conduct of +the affair unreservedly to his friend, in whom he had that love and +confidence which a man gives to another man but once in his life--when +he is young. The tears were in Jimmy's eyes long before he had finished +the letter. + +He turned to another letter he had received by the same mail, and which +also bore the South African stamp upon it. Hoping to find some news of +his friend he broke the seal, but it was merely an intimation from the +steamship company that half-a-dozen boxes remained at the southern +terminus of the line addressed to him; but, they said, until they were +assured the freight upon them to Southampton would be paid, they would +not be forwarded. + +A week later, the London papers announced in large type, "Mysterious +disappearance of an actor." The well-known actor, Mr. James Spence, had +left the theatre in which he had been playing the part of Joseph to a +great actor's Richelieu, and had not been heard of since. The janitor +remembered him leaving that night, for he had not returned his +salutation, which was most unusual. His friends had noticed that for a +few days previous to his disappearance he had been apparently in deep +dejection, and fears were entertained. One journalist said jestingly +that probably Jimmy had gone to see what had become of his African +friend; but the joke, such as it was, was not favourably received, for +when a man is called Jimmy until late in life, it shows that people +have an affection for him, and every one who knew Spence was sorry he +had disappeared, and hoped that no evil had overtaken him. + +It was a year after the disappearance that a wan, living skeleton +staggered out of the wilderness in Africa, and blindly groped his way +to the coast as a man might who had lived long in darkness and found +the light too strong for his eyes. He managed to reach a port, and +there took steamer homeward bound for Southampton. The sea-breezes +revived him somewhat, but it was evident to all the passengers that he +had passed through a desperate illness. It was just a toss-up whether +he could live until he saw England again. It was impossible to guess at +his age, so heavy a hand had disease laid upon him, and he did not seem +to care to make acquaintances, but kept much to himself, sitting +wrapped up in his chair, gazing with a tired-out look at the green +ocean. + +A young girl frequently sat in a chair near him, ostensibly reading, +but more often glancing sympathetically at the wan figure beside her. +Many times she seemed about to speak to him, but apparently hesitated +to do so, for the man took no notice of his fellow-passengers. At +length, however, she mustered up courage to address him, and said: +"There is a good story in this magazine: perhaps you would like to read +it?" + +He turned his eyes from the sea and rested them vacantly upon her face +for a moment. His dark moustache added to the pallor of his face, but +did not conceal the faint smile that came to his lips; he had heard +her, but had not understood. + +"What did you say?" he asked, gently. + +"I said there was a good story here, entitled 'Author! Author!' and I +thought you might like to read it," and the girl blushed very prettily +as she said this, for the man looked younger than he had done before he +smiled. + +"I am afraid," said the man, slowly, "that I have forgotten how to +read. It is a long time since I have seen a book or a magazine. Won't +you tell me the story? I would much rather hear it from you than make +an attempt to read it myself in the magazine." + +"Oh," she cried, breathlessly, "I'm not sure that I could tell it; at +any rate, not as well as the author does; but I will read it to you if +you like." + +The story was about a man who had written a play, and who thought, as +every playwright thinks, that it was a great addition to the drama, and +would bring him fame and fortune. He took this play to a London +manager, but heard nothing of it for a long time, and at last it was +returned to him. Then, on going to a first night at the theatre to see +a new tragedy, which this manager called his own, he was amazed to see +his rejected play, with certain changes, produced upon the stage, and +when the cry "Author! Author!" arose, he stood up in his place; but +illness and privation had done their work, and he died proclaiming +himself the author of the play. + +"Ah," said the man, when the reading was finished, "I cannot tell you +how much the story has interested me. I once was an actor myself, and +anything pertaining to the stage appeals to me, although it is years +since I saw a theatre. It must be hard luck to work for fame and then +be cheated out of it, as was the man in the tale; but I suppose it +sometimes happens, although, for the honesty of human nature, I hope +not very often." + +"Did you act under your own name, or did you follow the fashion so many +of the profession adopt?" asked the girl, evidently interested when he +spoke of the theatre. + +The young man laughed for, perhaps, the first time on the voyage. "Oh," +he answered, "I was not at all noted. I acted only in minor parts, and +always under my own name, which, doubtless, you have never heard--it is +Sidney Ormond." + +"What!" cried the girl in amazement; "not Sidney Ormond the African +traveller?" + +The young man turned his wan face and large, melancholy eyes upon his +questioner. + +"I am certainly Sidney Ormond, an African traveller, but I don't think +I deserve the 'the,' you know. I don't imagine anyone has heard of me +through my travelling any more than through my acting." + +"The Sidney Ormond I mean," she said, "went through Africa without +firing a shot; whose book, _A Mission of Peace_, has been such a +success, both in England and America. But, of course, you cannot be he; +for I remember that Sidney Ormond is now lecturing in England to +tremendous audiences all over the country. The Royal Geographical +Society has given him medals or degrees, or something of that sort-- +perhaps it was Oxford that gave the degree. I am sorry I haven't his +book with me, it would be sure to interest you; but some one on board +is almost certain to have it, and I will try to get it for you. I gave +mine to a friend in Cape Town. What a funny thing it is that the two +names should be exactly the same." + +"It is very strange," said Ormond gloomily, and his eyes again sought +the horizon and he seemed to relapse into his usual melancholy. + +The girl arose from her seat, saying she would try to find the book, +and left him there meditating. When she came back, after the lapse of +half an hour or so, she found him sitting just as she had left him, +with his sad eyes on the sad sea. The girl had a volume in her hand. +"There," she said, "I knew there would be a copy on board, but I am +more bewildered than ever; the frontispiece is an exact portrait of +you, only you are dressed differently and do not look--" the girl +hesitated, "so ill as when you came on board." + +Ormond looked up at the girl with a smile, and said-- + +"You might say with truth, so ill as I look now." + +"Oh, the voyage has done you good. You seem ever so much better than +when you came on board." + +"Yes, I think that is so," said Ormond, reaching for the volume she +held in her hand. He opened it at the frontispiece and gazed long at +the picture. + +The girl sat down beside him and watched his face, glancing from it to +the book. + +"It seems to me," she said at last, "that the coincidence is becoming +more and more striking. Have you ever seen that portrait before?" + +"Yes," said Ormond slowly. "I recognise it as a portrait I took of +myself in the interior of Africa which I sent to a dear friend of mine; +in fact, the only friend I had in England. I think I wrote him about +getting together a book out of the materials I sent him, but I am not +sure. I was very ill at the time I wrote him my last letter. I thought +I was going to die, and told him so. I feel somewhat bewildered, and +don't quite understand it all." + +"I understand it," cried the girl, her face blazing with indignation. +"Your friend is a traitor. He is reaping the reward that should have +been yours, and so poses as the African traveller, the real Ormond. You +must put a stop to it when you reach England, and expose his treachery +to the whole country." + +Ormond shook his head slowly and said-- + +"I cannot imagine Jimmy Spence a traitor. If it were only the book, +that could be, I think, easily explained, for I sent him all my notes +of travel and materials; but I cannot understand him taking the medals +or degrees." + +The girl made a quick gesture of impatience. + +"Such things," she said, "cannot be explained. You must confront him +and expose him." + +"No," said Ormond, "I shall not confront him. I must think over the +matter for a time. I am not quick at thinking, at least just now, in +the face of this difficulty. Everything seemed plain and simple before, +but if Jimmy Spence has stepped into my shoes, he is welcome to them. +Ever since I came out of Africa I seem to have lost all ambition. +Nothing appears to be worth while now." + +"Oh!" cried the girl, "that is because you are in ill-health. You will +be yourself again when you reach England. Don't let this trouble you +now--there is plenty of time to think it all out before we arrive. I am +sorry I spoke about it; but, you see, I was taken by surprise when you +mentioned your name." + +"I am very glad you spoke to me," said Ormond, in a more cheerful +voice. "The mere fact that you have talked with me has encouraged me +wonderfully. I cannot tell how much this conversation has been to me. I +am a lone man, with only one friend in the world--I am afraid I must +add now, without even one friend in the world. I am grateful for your +interest in me, even though it was only compassion for a wreck--for a +derelict, floating about on the sea of life." + +There were tears in the girl's eyes, and she did not speak for a +moment, then she laid her hand softly on Ormond's arm, and said, "You +are not a wreck, far from it. You sit alone too much, and I am afraid +that what I have thoughtlessly said has added to your troubles." The +girl paused in her talk, but after a moment added-- + +"Don't you think you could walk the deck for a little?" + +"I don't know about walking," said Ormond, with a little laugh, "but +I'll come with you if you don't mind an encumbrance." + +He rose somewhat unsteadily, and she took his arm. + +"You must look upon me as your physician," she said cheerfully, "and I +shall insist that my orders are obeyed." + +"I shall be delighted to be under your charge," said Ormond, "but may I +not know my physician's name?" + +The girl blushed deeply when she realised that she had had such a long +conversation with one to whom she had never been introduced. She had +regarded him as an invalid, who needed a few words of cheerful +encouragement, but as he stood up she saw that he was much younger than +his face and appearance had led her to suppose. + +"My name is Mary Radford," she said. + +"_Miss_ Mary Radford?" inquired Ormond. + +"Miss Mary Radford." + +That walk on the deck was the first of many, and it soon became evident +to Ormond that he was rapidly becoming his old self again. If he had +lost a friend in England, he had certainly found another on board ship +to whom he was getting more and more attached as time went on. The only +point of disagreement between them was in regard to the confronting of +Jimmy Spence. Ormond was determined in his resolve not to interfere +with Jimmy and his ill-gotten fame. + +As the voyage was nearing its end, Ormond and Miss Radford stood +together leaning over the rail conversing quietly. They had become very +great friends indeed. + +"But if you will not expose this man," said Miss Radford, "what then is +your purpose when you land? Are you going back to the stage again?" + +"I don't think so," replied Ormond. "I shall try to get something to do +and live quietly for awhile." + +"Oh!" cried the girl, "I have no patience with you." + +"I am sorry for that, Mary," said Ormond, "for, if I can make a living, +I intend asking you to be my wife." + +"Oh!" cried the girl breathlessly, turning her head away. + +"Do you think I would have any chance?" asked Ormond. + +"Of making a living?" inquired the girl, after a moment's silence. + +"No. I am sure of making a living, for I have always done so; therefore +answer my question. Mary, do you think I would have any chance?" and he +placed his hand softly over hers, which lay on the ship's rail. The +girl did not answer, but she did not withdraw her hand; she gazed down +at the bright green water with its tinge of foam. + +"I suppose you know," she said at length, "that you have every chance, +and you are merely pretending ignorance to make it easier for me, +because I have simply flung myself at your head ever since we began the +voyage." + +"I am not pretending, Mary," he said. "What I feared was that your +interest was only that of a nurse in a somewhat backward patient. I was +afraid I had your sympathy, but not your love. Perhaps such was the +case at first." + +"Perhaps such was the case--at first, but it is far from being the +truth now--Sidney." + +The young man made a motion to approach nearer to her, but the girl +drew away, whispering-- + +"There are other people besides ourselves on deck, remember." + +"I don't believe it," said Ormond, gazing fondly at her. "I can see no +one but you. I believe we are floating alone on the ocean together, and +that there is no one else in the wide world but our two selves. I +thought I went to Africa for fame, but I see I really went to find you. +What I sought seems poor compared to what I have found." + +"Perhaps," said the girl, looking shyly at him, "Fame is waiting as +anxiously for you to woo her as--as another person waited. Fame is a +shameless hussy, you know." + +The young man shook his head. + +"No. Fame has jilted me once. I won't give her another chance." + +So those who were twain sailed gently into Southampton Docks, resolved +to be one when the gods were willing. + +Mary Radford's people were there to meet her, and Ormond went up to +London alone, beginning his short railway journey with a return of the +melancholy that had oppressed him during the first part of his long +voyage. He felt once more alone in the world, now that the bright +presence of his sweetheart was withdrawn, and he was saddened by the +thought that the telegram he had hoped to send to Jimmy Spence, +exultingly announcing his arrival, would never be sent. In a newspaper +he bought at the station, he saw that the African traveller, Sidney +Ormond, was to be received by the Mayor and Corporation of a Midland +town, and presented with the freedom of the city. The traveller was to +lecture on his exploits in the town so honouring him, that day week. +Ormond put down the paper with a sigh, and turned his thoughts to the +girl from whom he had so lately parted. A true sweetheart is a +pleasanter subject for meditation than a false friend. + +Mary also saw the announcement in the paper, and anger tightened her +lips and brought additional colour to her cheeks. Seeing how averse her +lover was to taking any action against his former friend, she had +ceased to urge him, but she had quietly made up her own mind to be +herself the goddess of the machine. + +On the night the bogus African traveller was to lecture in the Midland +town, Mary Radford was a unit in the very large audience that greeted +him. When he came on the platform she was so amazed at his personal +appearance that she cried out, but fortunately her exclamation was lost +in the applause that greeted the lecturer. The man was the exact +duplicate of her betrothed. + +She listened to the lecture in a daze; it seemed to her that even the +tones of the lecturer's voice were those of her lover. She paid little +heed to the matter of his discourse, but allowed her mind to dwell more +on the coming interview, wondering what excuses the fraudulent +traveller would make for his perfidy. + +When the lecture was over, and the usual vote of thanks had been +tendered and accepted, Mary Radford still sat there while the rest of +the audience slowly filtered out of the large hall. She rose at last, +nerving herself for the coming meeting, and went to the side door, +where she told the man on duty that she wished to see the lecturer. The +man said that it was impossible for Mr. Ormond to see any one at that +moment; there was to be a big supper; he was to meet the Mayor and +Corporation; and so the lecturer had said he could see no one. + +"Will you take a note to him if I write it?" asked the girl. + +"I will send it in to him; but it's no use, he won't see you. He +refused to see even the reporters," said the door-keeper, as if that +were final, and a man who would deny himself to the reporters would not +admit Royalty itself. + +Mary wrote on a slip of paper the words, "The affianced wife of the +real Sidney Ormond would like to see you for a few moments," and this +brief note was taken in to the lecturer. + +The door-keeper's faith in the constancy of public men was rudely +shaken a few minutes later, when the messenger returned with orders +that the lady was to be admitted at once. + +When Mary entered the green-room of the lecture hall she saw the double +of her lover standing near the fire, her note in his hand and a look of +incredulity on his face. + +The girl barely entered the room, and, closing the door, stood with her +back against it. He was the first to speak. + +"I thought Sidney had told me everything; I never knew he was +acquainted with a young lady, much less engaged to her." + +"You admit, then, that you are not the true Sidney Ormond?" + +"I admit it to you, of course, if you were to have been his wife." + +"I am to be his wife, I hope." + +"But Sidney, poor fellow, is dead; dead in the wilds of Africa." + +"You will be shocked to learn that such is not the case, and that your +imposture must come to an end. Perhaps you counted on his friendship +for you, and thought that even if he did return he would not expose +you. In that you were quite right, but you did not count on me. Sidney +Ormond is at this moment in London, Mr. Spence." + +Jimmy Spence, paying no attention to the accusations of the girl, gave +a war-whoop which had formerly been so effective in the second act of +"Pocahontas," in which Jimmy had enacted the noble savage, and then he +danced a jig that had done service in _Colleen Bawn_. While the +amazed girl watched these antics, Jimmy suddenly swooped down upon her, +caught her around the waist, and whirled her wildly around the room. +Setting her down in a corner, Jimmy became himself again, and dabbed +his heated brow with his handkerchief carefully, so as not to disturb +the makeup. + +"Sidney in England again? That's too good news to be true. Say it +again, my girl, I can hardly believe it. Why didn't he come with you? +Is he ill?" + +"He has been very ill." + +"Ah, that's it, poor fellow. I knew nothing else would have kept him. +And then when he telegraphed to me at the old address, on landing, of +course, there was no reply, because, you see, I had disappeared. But +Sid wouldn't know anything about that, and so he must be wondering what +has become of me. I'll have a great story to tell him when we meet; +almost as good as his own African experiences. We'll go right up to +London to-night, as soon as this confounded supper is over. And what is +your name, my girl?" + +"Mary Radford." + +"And you're engaged to old Sid, eh? Well! well! well! well! This is +great news. You mustn't mind my capers, Mary, my dear; you see, I'm the +only friend Sid has, and I'm old enough to be your father. I look young +now, but you wait till the paint comes off. Have you any money? I mean, +to live on when you're married; because I know Sidney never had much." + +"I haven't very much either," said Mary, with a sigh. + +Jimmy jumped up and paced the room in great glee, laughing and slapping +his thigh. + +"That's first rate," he cried. "Why, Mary, I've got over £20,000 +in the bank saved up for you two. The book and lectures, you know. I +don't believe Sid himself could have done as well, for he always was +careless with money--he's often lent me the last penny he had, and +never kept any account of it; and I never thought of paying it back, +either, until he was gone, and then it worried me." + +The messenger put his head into the room, and said the Mayor and the +Corporation were waiting. + +"Oh, hang the Mayor and the Corporation!" cried Jimmy; then, suddenly +recollecting himself, he added, hastily, "No, don't do that. Just give +them Jimmy--I mean Sidney--Ormond's compliments, and tell his Worship +that I have just had some very important news from Africa, but will be +with him directly." + +When the messenger was gone Jimmy continued in high feather. "What a +time we shall have in London. We'll all three go to the old familiar +theatre, yes, and by Jove, we'll pay for our seats; _that_ will be +a novelty. Then we will have supper where Sid and I used to eat. Sidney +shall talk, and you and I will listen; then I shall talk, and you and +Sid will listen. You see, my dear, I've been to Africa too. When I got +Sidney's letter saying he was dying I just moped about and was of no +use to anybody. Then I made up my mind what to do. Sid had died for +fame, and it wasn't just he shouldn't get what he paid so dearly for. I +gathered together what money I could and went to Africa, steerage. I +found I couldn't do anything there about searching for Sid, so I +resolved to be his understudy and bring fame to him, if it were +possible. I sank my own identity and made up as Sidney Ormond, took his +boxes and sailed for Southampton. I have been his understudy ever +since, for, after all, I always had a hope he would come back some day, +and then everything would be ready for him to take the principal, and +let the old understudy go back to the boards again and resume competing +with the reputation of Macready. If Sid hadn't come back in another +year, I was going to take a lecturing trip in America, and when that +was done, I intended to set out in great state for Africa, disappear +into the forest as Sidney Ormond, wash the paint off and come out as +Jimmy Spence. Then Sidney Ormond's fame would have been secure, for +they would be always sending out relief expeditions after him and not +finding him, while I would be growing old on the boards and bragging +what a great man my friend, Sidney Ormond, was." + +There were tears in the girl's eyes as she rose and took Jimmy's hand. + +"No man has ever been so true a friend to his friend as you have been," +she said. + +"Oh, bless you, yes," cried Jimmy, jauntily. "Sid would have done the +same for me. But he is luckier in having you than in having his friend, +although I don't deny I've been a good friend to him. Yes, my dear, he +is lucky in having a plucky girl like you. I missed that somehow when I +was young, having my head full of Macready nonsense, and I missed being +a Macready too. I've always been a sort of understudy, so you see the +part comes easy to me. Now I must be off to that confounded Mayor and +Corporation, I had almost forgotten them, but I must keep up the +character for Sidney's sake. But this is the last act, my dear. To- +morrow I'll turn over the part of explorer to the real actor ... to the +star." + + + + +"OUT OF THUN." + + +1.--BESSIE'S BEHAVIOUR. + + +On one point Miss Bessie Durand agreed with Alexander von Humboldt--in +fact, she even went further than that celebrated man, for while he +asserted that Thun was one of the three most beautiful spots on earth, +Bessie held that this Swiss town was absolutely the most perfectly +lovely place she had ever visited. Her reason for this conclusion +differed from that of Humboldt. The latter, being a mere man, had been +influenced by the situation of the town, the rapid, foaming river, the +placid green lake, the high mountains all around, the snow-peaks to the +east, the ancient castle overlooking everything, and the quaint streets +with the pavements up at the first floors. + +Bessie had an eye for these things, of course, but while waterfalls and +profound ravines were all very well in their way, her hotel had to be +filled with the right sort of company before any spot on earth was +entirely satisfactory to Bessie. She did not care to be out of +humanity's reach, nor to take her small journeys alone; she liked to +hear the sweet music of speech, and if she started at the sound of her +own, Bessie would have been on the jump all day, for she was a +brilliant and effusive talker. + +So it happened that, in touring through Switzerland, Bessie and her +mother (somehow people always placed Bessie's name before that of her +mother, who was a quiet little unobtrusive woman) stopped at Thun, +intending to stay for a day, as most people do, but when Bessie found +the big hotel simply swarming with nice young men, she told her mother +that the local guide-book asserted that Humboldt had once said Thun was +one of the three most lovely places on earth, and, therefore, they +ought to stay there and enjoy its beauties, which they at once +proceeded to do. It must not be imagined from this that Bessie was +particularly fond of young men. Such was far from being the case. She +merely liked to have them propose to her, which was certainly a +laudable ambition, but she invariably refused them, which went to show +that she was not, as her enemies stated, always in love with somebody. +The fact was that Miss Bessie Durand's motives were entirely +misunderstood by an unappreciative world. Was she to be blamed because +young men wanted her to marry them? Certainly not. It was not her fault +that she was pretty and sweet, and that young men, as a rule, liked to +talk with her rather than with any one else in the neighbourhood. Many +of her detractors would very likely have given much to have had +Bessie's various charms of face, figure, and manner. This is a jealous +world, and people delight in saying spiteful little things about those +more favoured by Providence than themselves. It must, however, be +admitted that Bessie had a certain cooing, confidential way with people +that may have misled some of the young men who ultimately proposed to +her into imagining that they were special favourites with the young +lady. She took a kindly interest in their affairs, and very shortly +after making her acquaintance, most young men found themselves pouring +into her sympathetic ear all their hopes and aspirations. Bessie's ear +was very shell-like and beautiful as well as sympathetic, so that one +can hardly say the young men were to blame any more than Bessie was. +Nearly everybody in this world wants to talk of himself or herself, as +the case may be, and so it is no wonder that a person like Bessie, who +is willing to listen while other people talk of themselves, is popular. +Among the many billions who inhabit this planet, there are too many +talkers and too few listeners; and although Bessie was undoubtedly a +brilliant talker on occasion, there is no doubt that her many victories +resulted more from her appreciative qualities as a talented listener +than from the entertaining charms of her conversation. Those women who +have had so much to say about Bessie's behaviour might well take a leaf +from her book in this respect. They would find, if they had even +passably good looks, that proposals would be more frequent. Of course +there is no use in denying that Bessie's eyes had much to do with +bringing young men to the point. Her eyes were large and dark, and they +had an entrancing habit of softening just at the right moment, when +there came into them a sweet, trustful, yearning look that was simply +impossible to resist. They gazed thus at a young man when he was +telling in low whispers how he hoped to make the world wiser and better +by his presence in it, or when he narrated some incident of great +danger in which he took part, where (unconsciously, perhaps, on the +teller's part) his own heroism was shown forth to the best possible +advantage. Then Bessie's eyes would grow large and humid and tender, +and a subdued light would come into them as she hung breathlessly on +his words. Did not Desdemona capture Othello merely by listening to a +recital of his own daring deeds, which were, doubtless, very greatly +exaggerated? + +The young men at the big hotel in Thun were clad mostly in +knickerbockers, and many of them had alpenstocks of their own. It soon +became their delight to sit on the terrace in front of the hotel during +the pleasant summer evenings and relate to Bessie their hairbreath +escapes, the continuous murmur of the River Aare forming a soothing +chorus to their dramatic narrations. At least a dozen young men hovered +round the girl, willing and eager to confide in her; but while Bessie +was smiling and kind to them all, it was soon evident that some special +one was her favourite, and then the rest hung hopelessly back. Things +would go wonderfully well for this lucky young fellow for a day or two, +and he usually became so offensively conceited in his bearing towards +the rest, that the wonder is he escaped without personal vengeance +being wreaked upon him; then all at once he would pack up his +belongings and gloomily depart for Berne or Interlaken, depending on +whether his ultimate destination was west or east. The young men +remaining invariably tried not to look jubilant at the sudden +departure, while the ladies staying at the hotel began to say hard +things of Bessie, going even so far as to assert that she was a +heartless flirt. How little do we know the motives of our fellow- +creatures! How prone we are to misjudge the actions of others! Bessie +was no flirt, but a high-minded, conscientious girl, with an ambition-- +an ambition which she did not babble about to the world, and therefore +the world failed to appreciate her, as it nearly always fails to +appreciate those who do not take it into their confidence. + +It came to be currently reported in the hotel that Bessie had refused +no less than seven of the young men who had been staying there, and as +these young men had, one after another, packed up and departed, either +by the last train at night or the earliest in the morning, the +proprietor began to wonder what the matter was, especially as each of +the departing guests had but a short time before expressed renewed +delight with the hotel and its surroundings. Several of them had stated +to the proprietor that they had abandoned their intention of proceeding +further with their Swiss tour, so satisfied were they with Thun and all +its belongings. Thus did the flattering opinion of Alexander von +Humboldt seem about to become general, to the great delight of the +hotel proprietor, when, without warning, these young men had gloomily +deserted Thun, while its beauty undoubtedly remained unchanged. +Naturally the good man who owned the hotel was bewildered, and began to +think that, after all, the English were an uncertain, mind-changing +race. + +Among the guests there was one young fellow who was quite as much +perplexed as the proprietor. Archie Severance was one of the last to +fall under the spell of Bessie--if, indeed, it is correct to speak of +Archie falling at all. He was a very deliberate young man, not given to +doing anything precipitately, but there is no doubt that the charming +personality of Bessie fascinated him, although he seemed to content +himself with admiring her from a distance. Bessie somehow did not +appear to care about being admired from a distance, and once, when +Archie was promenading to and fro on the terrace above the river, she +smiled sweetly at him from her book, and he sat down beside her. Jimmy +Wellman had gone that morning, and the rest had not yet found it out. +Jimmy had so completely monopolised Miss Durand for the last few days +that no one else had had a chance, but now that he had departed, Bessie +sat alone on the terrace, which was a most unusual state of things. + +"They tell me," said Bessie, in her most flattering manner, "that you +are a famous climber, and that you have been to the top of the +Matterhorn." + +"Oh, not famous; far from it," said Archie modestly. "I have been up +the Matterhorn three or four times; but then women and children make +the ascent nowadays, so that is nothing unusual." + +"I am sure you must have had some thrilling escapes," continued Bessie, +looking with admiration at Archie's stalwart frame. "Mr. Wellman had an +awful experience----" + +"Yesterday?" interrupted Archie. "I hear he left early this morning." + +"No, not yesterday," said Miss Durand coldly, drawing herself up with +some indignation; but as she glanced sideways at Mr. Severance, that +young man seemed so innocent that she thought perhaps he meant nothing +in particular by his remark. So, after a slight pause, Bessie went on +again. "It was a week ago. He was climbing the Stockhorn and all at +once the clouds surrounded him." + +"And what did Jimmy do? Waited till the clouds rolled by, I suppose." + +"Now, Mr. Severance, if you are going to laugh at me, I shall not talk +to you any more." + +"I assure you, Miss Durand, I was not laughing at you. I was laughing +at Jimmy. I never regarded the Stockhorn as a formidable peak. It is +something like 7,195 feet high, I believe, not to mention the inches." + +"But surely, Mr. Severance, you know very well that the danger of a +mountain does not necessarily bear any proportion to its altitude +above the sea." + +"That is very true. I am sure that Jimmy himself, with his head in the +clouds, has braved greater dangers at much lower levels than the top of +the Stockhorn." + +Again Miss Durand looked searchingly at the young man beside her, but +again Archie was gazing dreamily at the curious bell-shaped summit of +the mountain under discussion. The Stockhorn stands out nobly, head and +shoulders above its fellows, when viewed from the hotel terrace at +Thun. + +There was silence for a few moments between the two, and Bessie said to +herself that she did not at all like this exceedingly self-possessed +young man, who seemed to look at the mountains in preference to gazing +at her--which was against the natural order of things. It was evident +that Mr. Severance needed to be taught a lesson, and Bessie, who had a +good deal of justifiable confidence in her own powers as a teacher, +resolved to give him the necessary instruction. Perhaps, when he had +acquired a little more experience, he would not speak so contemptuously +of "Jimmy," or any of the rest. Besides, it is always a generous action +towards the rest of humanity to reduce the inordinate self-esteem of +any one young man to something like reasonable proportions. So Bessie, +instead of showing that she was offended by his flippant conversation +and his lack of devotion to her, put on her most bewitching manner, and +smiled the smile that so many before her latest victim had found +impossible to resist. She would make him talk of himself and his +exploits. They all succumbed to this treatment. + +"I do so love to hear of narrow escapes," said Bessie confidingly. "I +think it is so inspiring to hear of human courage and endurance being +pitted against the dangers of the Alps, and coming out victorious." + +"Yes, they usually come out victorious, according to the accounts that +reach us; but then, you know, we never get the mountain's side of the +story." + +"But surely, Mr. Severance," appealed Bessie, "you do not imagine that +a real climber would exaggerate when telling of what he had done." + +"No; oh no. I would not go so far as to say that he would exaggerate +exactly, but I have known cases where--well--a sort of Alpine glow came +over a story that, I must confess, improved it very much. Then, again, +curious mental transformations take place which have the effect of +making a man, what the vulgar term, a liar. Some years ago a friend of +mine came over here to do a few ascents, but he found sitting on the +hotel piazza so much more to his taste that he sat there. I think +myself the verandah climber is the most sensible man of the lot of us; +and, if he has a good imagination, there is no reason why he should be +distanced by those you call real climbers, when it comes to telling +stories of adventures. Well, this man, who is a most truthful person, +took one false step. You know, some amateurs have a vile habit of +getting the names of various peaks branded on their alpenstocks--just +as if any real climber ever used an alpenstock." + +"Why, what do they use?" asked Bessie, much interested. + +"Ice-axes, of course. Now, there is a useful individual in Interlaken, +who is what you might call a wholesale brander. He has the names of all +the peaks done in iron at his shop, and if you take your alpenstock to +him, he will, for a few francs, brand on it all the names it will hold, +from the Ortler to Mont Blanc. My friend was weak enough to have all +the ascents he had intended to make, branded on the alpenstock he +bought the moment he entered Switzerland. They always buy an alpenstock +the first thing. He never had the time to return to the mountains, but +gradually he came to believe that he had made all the ascents recorded +by fire and iron on his pole. He is a truthful man on every other topic +than Switzerland." + +"But you must have had some very dangerous experiences among the Alps, +Mr. Severance. Please tell me of the time you were in the greatest +peril." + +"I am sure it would not interest you." + +"Oh, it would, it would. Please go on, and don't require so much +persuasion. I am just longing to hear the story." + +"It isn't much of a story, because, you see, there is no Alpine glow +about it." + +Archie glanced at the girl, and it flashed across his mind that he was +probably then in the greatest danger he had ever been in, in his life. +She bent forward toward him, her elbows on her knees, and her chin-- +such a pretty chin!--in her hands. Her eyes were full upon him, and +Archie had sense enough to realise that there was danger in their clear +pellucid depths, so he turned his own from them, and sought refuge in +his old friend, the Stockhorn. + +"I think the narrowest escape I ever had was about two weeks ago. I +went up----" + +"With how many guides?" interrupted Bessie breathlessly. + +"With none at all," answered Archie, with a laugh. + +"Isn't that very unsafe? I thought one always should have a guide." + +"Sometimes guides are unnecessary. I took none on this occasion, +because I only ascended as far as the Château in Thun, some three +hundred feet above where we are sitting, and as I went by the main +street of the town, the climb was perfectly safe in all weathers. +Besides, there is generally a policeman about." + +"Oh!" said the girl, sitting up suddenly very straight. + +Archie was looking at the mountains, and did not see the hot anger +surge up into her face. + +"You know the steps leading down from the castle. They are covered in, +and are very dark when one comes out of the bright sunlight. Some fool +had been eating an orange there, and had carelessly thrown the peel on +the steps. I did not notice it, and so trod on a bit. The next thing I +knew I was in a heap at the foot of that long stairway, thinking every +bone in my body was broken. I had many bruises, but no hurt that was +serious; nevertheless, I never had such a fright in my life, and I hope +never to have such another." + +Bessie rose up with much dignity. "I am obliged to you for your +recital, Mr. Severance," she said freezingly. "If I do not seem to +appreciate your story as much as I should, it is perhaps because I am +not accustomed to being laughed at." + +"I assure you, Miss Durand, that I am not laughing at you, and that +this pathetic incident was anything but a laughing matter to me. The +Stockhorn has no such danger lying in wait for a man as a bit of +orange-peel on a dark and steep stairway. Please do not be offended +with me. I told you my stories have no Alpine glow about them, but the +danger was undoubtedly there." + +Archie had risen to his feet, but there was no forgiveness in Miss +Durand's eyes as she bade him "Good-morning," and went into the hotel, +leaving him standing there. + +During the week that followed, Archie had little chance of making his +peace with Miss Durand, for in that week the Sanderson episode had its +beginning, its rise, and its culmination. Charley Sanderson, emboldened +by the sudden departure of Wellman, became the constant attendant of +Bessie, and everything appeared to be in his favour until the evening +he left. That evening the two strolled along the walk that borders the +north side of the river, leading to the lake. They said they were going +to see the Alpine glow on the snow mountains, but nobody believed that, +for the glow can be seen quite as well from the terrace in front of the +hotel. Be that as it may, they came back together, shortly before eight +o'clock, Bessie looking her prettiest, and Sanderson with a black frown +on his face, evidently in the worst of tempers. He flung his belongings +into a bag, and departed by the 8:40 train for Berne. As Archie met the +pair, Bessie actually smiled very sweetly upon him, while Sanderson +glared as if he had never met Severance before. + +"_That_ episode is evidently ended," said Archie to himself, as he +continued his walk toward Lake Thun. "I wonder if it is pure devilment +that induces her to lead people on to a proposal, and then drop them. I +suppose Charley will leave now, and we'll have no more games of +billiards together. I wonder why they all seem to think it the proper +thing to go away. I wouldn't. A woman is like a difficult peak--if you +don't succeed the first time, you should try again. I believe I shall +try half a dozen proposals with Bessie myself. If I ever come to the +point, she won't find it so easy to get rid of me as she does of all +the rest." + +Meditating thus, he sat down on a bench under the trees facing the +lake. Archie wondered if the momentous question had been asked at this +spot. It seemed just the place for it, and he noticed that the gravel +on the path was much disturbed, as if by the iron-shod point of an +agitated man's cane. Then he remembered that Sanderson was carrying an +iron-pointed cane. As Archie smiled and looked about him, he saw on the +seat beside him a neat little morocco-bound book with a silver clasp. +It had evidently slipped from the insecure dress-pocket of a lady who +had been sitting there. Archie picked it up and turned it over and over +in his hands. It is a painful thing to be compelled to make excuse for +one of whom we would fain speak well, but it must be admitted that at +this point in his life Severance did what he should not have done--he +actually read the contents of the book, although he must have been +aware, before he turned the second leaf, that what was there set down +was meant for no eye save the writer's own. Archie excuses himself by +maintaining that he had to read the book before he could be sure it +belonged to anybody in particular, and that he opened it at first +merely to see if there were a name or card inside; but there is little +doubt that the young man knew from the very first whose book it was, +and he might at least have asked Miss Durand if it were hers before he +opened it. However, there is little purpose in speculating on what +might have been, and as the reading of the note-book led directly to +the utterly unjustifiable action of Severance afterwards, as one wrong +step invariably leads to another, the contents of the little volume are +here given, so that the reader of this tragedy may the more fully +understand the situation. + + + + +II.--BESSIE'S CONFESSION. + + +"_Aug. 1st_.--The keeping of a diary is a silly fashion, and I am +sure I would not bother with one, if my memory were good, and if I had +not a great object in view. However, I do not intend this book to be +more than a collection of notes that will be useful to me when I begin +my novel. The novel is to be the work of my life, and I mean to use +every talent I may have to make it unique and true to life. I think the +New Woman novel is a thing of the past, and that the time has now come +for a story of the old sort, yet written with a fidelity to life such +as has never been attempted by the old novelists. A painter or a +sculptor uses a model while producing a great picture or a statue. Why +should not a writer use a model also? The motive of all great novels +must be love, and the culminating point of a love-story is the +proposal. In no novel that I have ever read is the proposal well done. +Men evidently do not talk to each other about the proposals they make, +therefore a man-writer has merely his own experience to go upon, so his +proposals have a sameness--his hero proposes just as he himself has +done or would do. Women-writers seem to have more imagination in this +matter, but they describe a proposal as they would like it to be, and +not as it actually is. I find that it is quite an easy thing to get a +man to propose. I suppose I have a gift that way, and, besides, there +is no denying the fact that I am handsome, and perhaps that is +something of an aid. I therefore intend to write down in this book all +my proposals, using the exact language the man employed, and thus I +shall have the proposals in my novel precisely as they occurred. I +shall also set down here any thoughts that may be of use to me when I +write my book. + +"_Aug. 2nd._--I shall hereafter not date the notes in this book; +that will make it look less like a diary, which I detest. We are in +Thun, which is a lovely place. Humboldt, whoever he is or was, said it +is one of the three prettiest spots on earth. I wonder what the names +are of the other two. We intended to stay but one night at this hotel, +but I see it is full of young men, and as all the women seem to be +rather ugly and given to gossip, I think this is just the place for the +carrying out of my plans. The average young man is always ready to fall +in love while on his vacation--it makes time pass so pleasantly; and as +I read somewhere that man, as a general rule, proposes fourteen times +during his life, I may as well, in the interests of literature, be the +recipient of some of these offers. I have hit on what I think is a +marvellous idea. I shall arrange the offers with some regard to the +scenery, just as I suppose a stage-manager does. One shall propose by +the river--there are lovely shady walks on both sides; another, up in +the mountains; another, in the moonlight on the lake, in one of the +pretty foreign-looking rowing boats they have here, with striped +awnings. I don't believe any novelist has ever thought of such a thing. +Then I can write down a vivid description of the scenery in conjunction +with the language the young man uses. If my book is not a success, it +will be because there are no discriminating critics in England. + +"First proposal--This came on rather unexpectedly. His name is Samuel +Caldwell, and he is a curate here for his health. He is not in the +least in love with me, but he thinks he is, and so, I suppose, it comes +to the same thing. He began by saying that I was the only one who ever +understood his real aspirations, and that if I would join my lot with +his he was sure we should not only bring happiness to ourselves, but to +others as well. I told him gently that my own highest aspiration was to +write a successful novel, and this horrified him, for he thinks novels +are wicked. He has gone to Grindelwald, where he thinks the air is more +suitable for his lungs. I hardly count this as a proposal, and it took +me so much by surprise that it was half over before I realised it was +actually an offer of his heart and hand. Besides, it took place in the +hotel garden, of all unlikely spots, where we were in constant danger +of interruption. + +"Second proposal--Richard King is a very nice fellow, and was +tremendously in earnest. He says his life is blighted, but he will soon +come to a different opinion at Interlaken, where Margaret Dunn writes +me it is very gay, and where Richard has gone. Last evening we strolled +down by the lake, and he suggested that we should go out on the water. +He engaged a boat with two women to row, one sitting at the stern, and +the other standing at the prow, working great oars that looked like +cricket-bats. The women did not understand English, and we floated on +the lake until the moon came up over the snow mountains. Richard leaned +over, and tried to take my hand, whispering, in a low voice, 'Bessie.' +I confess I was rather in a flutter, and could think of nothing better +to say than 'Sir!' in a tone of surprise and indignation. He went on +hurriedly-- + + +"'Bessie,' he said, 'we have known each other only a few days, but in +those few days I have lived in Paradise.' + +"'Yes,' I answered, gathering my wits about me; 'Humboldt says Thun is +one of the three--' + +"Richard interrupted me with something that sounded remarkably like +'Hang Thun!' Then he went on, and said that I was all the world to him; +that he could not live without me. I shook my head slowly, and did not +reply. He spoke with a fluency that seemed to suggest practice, but I +told him it could never be. Then he folded his arms, sitting moodily +back in the boat, saying I had blighted his life. He did look handsome +as he sat there in the moonlight, with a deep frown on his brow; but I +could not help thinking he sat back purposely, so that the moonlight +might strike his face. I wish I could write down the exact language he +used, for he was very eloquent; but somehow I cannot bring myself to do +it, even in this book. I am sure, however, that when I come to write my +novel, and turn up these notes, I shall recall the words. Still, I +intended to put down the exact phrases. I wish I could take notes at +the time, but when a man is proposing he seems to want all your +attention. + +"A fine, stalwart young man came to the hotel to-day, bronzed by +mountain climbing. He looks as if he would propose in a manner not so +much like all the rest. I have found that his name is Archibald +Severance, and they say he is a great mountaineer. What a splendid +thing a proposal on the high Alps would be from such a man, with the +gleaming snow all around! I think I shall use that idea in the book. + +"Third, fourth, fifth, and sixth proposals. I must confess that I am +amazed and disappointed with the men. Is there no such thing as +originality among mankind? You would think they had all taken lessons +from some proposing master; they all have the same formula. The last +four began by calling me 'Bessie,' with the air of taking a great and +important step in life. Mr. Wellman varied it a little by asking me to +call him Jimmy, but the principle is just the same. I suppose this +sameness is the result of our modern system of education. I am sure +Archie would act differently. I am not certain that I like him, but he +interests me more than any of the others. I was very angry with him a +week ago. He knows it, but he doesn't seem to care. As soon as Charley +Sanderson proposes, I will see what can be done with Mr. Archie +Severance. + +"I like the name Archie. It seems to suit the young man exactly. I have +been wondering what sort of scenery would accord best with Mr. +Severance's proposal. I suppose a glacier would be about the correct +thing, for I imagine Archie is rather cold and sneering when he is not +in very good humour. The lake would be too placid for his proposal; and +when one is near the rapids, one cannot hear what the man is saying. I +think the Kohleren Gorge would be just the spot; it is so wild and +romantic, with a hundred waterfalls dashing down the precipices. I must +ask Archie if he has ever seen the Kohleren Falls. I suppose he will +despise them because they are not up among the snow-peaks." + + + + +III.--BESSIE'S PROPOSAL. + + +After reading the book which he had no business to read, Archie closed +the volume, fastened the clasp, and slipped it into his inside pocket. +There was a meditative look in his eyes as he gazed over the blue lake. + +"I can't return it to her--now," Archie said to himself. "Perhaps I +should not have read it. So she is not a flirt, after all, but merely +uses us poor mortals as models." Archie sighed. "I think that's better +than being a flirt--but I'm not quite sure. I suppose an author is +justified in going to great lengths to ensure the success of so +important a thing as a book. It may be that I can assist her with this +tremendous work of fiction. I shall think about it. But what am I to do +about this little diary? I must think about that as well. I can't give +it to her and say I did not read it, for I am such a poor hand at +lying. Good heavens! I believe that is Bessie coming alone along the +river-bank. I'll wager she has missed the book and knows pretty +accurately where she lost it. I'll place it where I found it, and +hide." + +The line of trees along the path made it easy for Archie to carry out +successfully his hastily formed resolution. He felt like a sneak, a +feeling he thoroughly merited, as he dodged behind the trees and so +worked his way to the main road. He saw Bessie march straight for the +bench, pick up the book, and walk back towards the hotel, without ever +glancing round, and her definite action convinced Archie that she had +no suspicion any one had seen her book. This made the young man easier +in his mind, and he swung along the Interlaken road towards Thun, +flattering himself that no harm had been done. Nevertheless, he had +resolved to revenge Miss Bessie's innocent victims, and as he walked, +he turned plan after plan over in his mind. Vengeance would be all the +more complete, as the girl had no idea that her literary methods were +known to any one but herself. + +For the next week Archie was very attentive to Bessie, and it must be +recorded that the pretty young woman seemed to appreciate his devotion +thoroughly and to like it. One morning, beautifully arrayed in walking +costume, Bessie stood on the terrace, apparently scanning the sky as if +anxious about the weather, but in reality looking out for an escort, +the gossips said to each other as they sat under the awnings busy at +needlework and slander, for of course no such thought was in the young +lady's mind. She smiled sweetly when Archie happened to come out of the +billiard-room; but then she always greeted her friends in a kindly +manner. + +"Are you off for a walk this morning?" asked Archie, in the innocent +tone of one who didn't know, and really desired the information. + +He spoke for the benefit of the gossips; but they were not to be taken +in by any such transparent device. They sniffed with contempt, and said +it was brazen of the two to pretend that they were not meeting there by +appointment. + +"Yes," said Bessie, with a saucy air of defiance, as if she did not +care who knew it; "I am going by the upper road to the Kohleren Falls. +Have you ever seen them?" + +"No. Are they pretty?" + +"Pretty! They are grand--at least, the gorge is, although, perhaps, you +would not think either the gorge or the falls worth visiting." + +"How can I tell until I have visited them? Won't you be my guide +there?" + +"I shall be most happy to have you come, only you must promise to speak +respectfully of both ravine and falls." + +"I was not the man who spoke disrespectfully of the equator, you know," +said Archie, as they walked off together, amidst the scorn of the +gossips, who declared they had never seen such a bold-faced action in +their lives. As their lives already had been somewhat lengthy, an idea +may be formed of the heinousness of Bessie's conduct. + +It took the pair rather more than an hour by the upper road, +overlooking the town of Thun and the lake beyond, to reach the finger- +board that pointed down into the Kohleren valley. They zigzagged along +a rapidly falling path until they reached the first of a series of +falls, roaring into a deep gorge surrounded by a dense forest. Bessie +leaned against the frail handrail and gazed into the depths, Severance +standing by her side. + +The young man was the first to speak, and when he spoke it was not on +the subject of the cataract. + +"Miss Durand," he said, "I love you. I ask you to be my wife." + +"Oh, Mr. Severance," replied Bessie, without lifting her eyes from the +foaming chasm, "I hope that nothing in my actions has led you to----" + +"Am I to understand that you are about to refuse me?" cried Archie, in +a menacing voice that sounded above the roar of the falling waters. + +Bessie looked quickly up at him, and, seeing a dark frown on his brow, +drew slightly away from him. + +"Certainly I am going to refuse you. I have known you scarcely more +than a week!" + +"That has nothing to do with it. I tell you, girl, that I love you. +Don't you understand what I say?" + +"I understand what you say well enough; but I don't love you. Is not +that answer sufficient?" + +"It would be sufficient if it were true. It is not true. You _do_ +love me. I have seen that for days; although you may have striven to +conceal your affection for me, it has been evident to every one, and +more especially to the man who loves you. Why, then, deny what has been +patent to all on-lookers? Have I not seen your face brighten when I +approached you? Have I not seen a welcoming smile on your lips, that +could have had but one meaning?" + +"Mr. Severance," cried Bessie, in unfeigned alarm, "have you gone +suddenly mad? How dare you speak to me in this fashion?" + +"Girl," shouted Archie, grasping her by the wrist, "is it possible that +I am wrong in supposing you care for me, and that the only other +inference to be drawn from your actions is the true one?" + +"What other inference?" asked Bessie, in a trembling voice, trying +unsuccessfully to withdraw her wrist from his iron grasp. + +"That you have been trifling with me," hissed Severance; "that you have +led me on and on, meaning nothing; that you have been pretending to +care for me when in reality you merely wanted to add one more to the +many proposals you have received. That is the alternative. Now, which +is the fact? Are you in love with me, or have you been fooling me?" + +"I told you I was not in love with you; but I did think you were a +gentleman. Now that I see you are a ruffian, I hate you. Let go my +wrist; you are hurting me." + +"Very good, very good. Now we have the truth at last, and I will teach +you the danger of making a plaything of a human heart." + +Severance released her wrist and seized her around the waist. Bessie +screamed and called for help, while the man who held her a helpless +prisoner laughed sardonically. With his free hand he thrust aside the +frail pine pole that formed a hand-rail to guard the edge of the cliff. +It fell into the torrent and disappeared down the cataract. + +"What are you going to do?" cried the girl, her eyes wide with terror. + +"I intend to leap with you into this abyss; then we shall be united for +ever." + +"Oh, Archie, Archie, I love you!" sobbed Bessie, throwing her arms +around the neck of the astonished young man, who was so amazed at the +sudden turn events had taken, that, in stepping back, he nearly +accomplished the disaster he had a moment before threatened. + +"Then why--why," he stammered, "did you--why did you deny it?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I suppose because I am contrary, or because, as you +said, it was so self-evident. Still, I don't believe I would ever have +accepted you if you hadn't forced me to. I have become so wearied with +the conventional form of proposal." + +"Yes, I suppose it does get rather tiresome," said Archie, mopping his +brow. "I see a bench a little further down; suppose we sit there and +talk the matter over." + +He gave her his hand, and she tripped daintily down to the bench, where +they sat down together. + +"You don't really believe I was such a ruffian as I pretended to be?" +said Archie at last. + +"Why, yes; aren't you?" she asked simply, glancing sideways at him with +her most winning smile. + +"You surely didn't actually think I was going to throw you over the +cliff?" + +"Oh, I have often heard or read of it being done. Were you only +pretending?" + +"That's all. It was really a little matter of revenge. I thought you +ought to be punished for the way you had used those other fellows. And +Sanderson was such a good hand at billiards. I could just beat him." + +"You--you said--you cared for me. Was that pretence too?" asked Bessie, +with a catch in her voice. + +"No. That was all true, Bessie, and there is where my scheme of +vengeance goes lame. You see, my dear girl, I never thought you would +look at me; some of the other fellows are ever so much better than I +am, and of course I did not imagine I had any chance. I hope you will +forgive me, and that you won't insist on having a real revenge by +withdrawing what you have said." + +"I shall have revenge enough on you, Archie, you poor, deluded young +man, all your life. But never say anything about 'the other fellows,' +as you call them. There never was any other fellow but you. Perhaps I +will show you a little book some day that will explain everything, +although I am afraid, if you saw it, you might think worse of me than +ever. I think, perhaps, it is my duty to show it to you before it is +too late to draw back. Shall I?" + +"I absolutely refuse to look at it--now or any other time," said Archie +magnanimously, drawing her towards him and kissing her. + +And Bessie, with a sigh of relief, wondered why it was that men have so +much less curiosity than women. She was sure that if he had hinted at +any such secret she would never have rested until she knew what it was. + + + + +A DRAMATIC POINT. + + +In the bad days of Balmeceda, when Chili was rent in twain, and its +capital was practically a besieged city, two actors walked together +along the chief street of the place towards the one theatre that was +then open. They belonged to a French dramatic company that would gladly +have left Chili if it could, but, being compelled by stress of war to +remain, the company did the next best thing, and gave performances at +the principal theatre on such nights as a paying audience came. + +A stranger would hardly have suspected, by the look of the streets, +that a deadly war was going on, and that the rebels--so called--were +almost at the city gates. Although business was ruined, credit dead, +and no man's life or liberty safe, the streets were filled with a crowd +that seemed bent on enjoyment and making the best of things. + +As Jacques Dupré and Carlos Lemoine walked together they conversed +earnestly, not of the real war so close to their doors, but of the +mimic conflicts of the stage. M. Dupré was the leading man of the +company, and he listened with the amused tolerance of an elder man to +the energetic vehemence of the younger. + +"You are all wrong, Dupré," cried Lemoine, "all wrong. I have studied +the subject. Remember, I am saying nothing against your acting in +general. You know you have no greater admirer than I am, and that is +something to say when the members of a dramatic company are usually at +loggerheads through jealousy." + +"Speak for yourself, Lemoine. You know I am green with jealousy of you. +You are the rising star and I am setting. You can't teach an old dog +new tricks, Carl, my boy." + +"That's nonsense, Dupré. I wish you would consider this seriously. It +is because you are so good on the stage that I can't bear to see you +false to your art just to please the gallery. You should be above all +that." + +"How can a man be above his gallery--the highest spot in the house? +Talk sense, Carlos, and then I'll listen." + +"Yes, you're flippant, simply because you know you're wrong, and dare +not argue this matter soberly. Now she stabs you through the heart----" + +"No. False premises entirely. She says something about my wicked heart, +and evidently _intends_ to pierce that depraved organ, but a woman +never hits what she aims at, and I deny that I'm ever stabbed through +the heart. Say in the region or the neighbourhood of the heart, and go +on with your talk." + +"Very well. She stabs you in a spot so vital that you die in a few +minutes. You throw up your hands, you stagger against the mantel-shelf, +you tear open your collar and then grope at nothing, you press your +hands on your wound and take two reeling steps forward, you call feebly +for help and stumble against the sofa, which you fall upon, and, +finally, still groping wildly, you roll off on the floor, where you +kick out once or twice, your clinched hand comes with a thud on the +boards, and all is over." + +"Admirably described, Carlos. Lord! I wish my audience paid such +attention to my efforts as you do. Now you claim this is all wrong, do +you?" + +"All wrong." + +"Suppose she stabbed you, what would _you_ do?" + +"I would plunge forward on my face--dead." + +"Great heavens! What would become of your curtain?" + +"Oh, hang the curtain!" + +"It's all very well for you to maledict the curtain, Carl, but you must +work up to it. Your curtain would come down, and your friends in the +gallery wouldn't know what had happened. Now I go through the +evolutions you so graphically describe, and the audience gets time to +take in the situation. They say, chuckling to themselves, 'that +villain's got his dose at last, and serve him right too.' They want to +enjoy his struggles, while the heroine stands grimly at the door taking +care that he doesn't get away. Then when my fist comes down flop on the +stage and they realise that I am indeed done for, the yell of triumph +that goes up is something delicious to hear." + +"That's just the point, Dupré. I claim the actor has no right to hear +applause--that he should not know there is such a thing as an audience. +His business is to portray life exactly as it is." + +"You can't portray life in a death scene, Carl." + +"Dupré, I lose all patience with you, or rather I would did I not know +that you are much deeper than you would have us suppose. You apparently +won't see that I am very much in earnest about this." + +"Of course you are, my boy; and that is one reason why you will become +a very great actor. I was ambitious myself once, but as we grow older" +--Dupré shrugged his shoulders--"well, we begin to have an eye on box- +office receipts. I think you sometimes forget that I am a good deal +older than you are." + +"You mean I am a fool, and that I may learn wisdom with age. I quite +admit you are a better actor than I am; in fact I said so only a moment +ago, but----" + +"'You wrong me, Brutus; I said an elder soldier, not a better.' But I +will take you on your own ground. Have you ever seen a man stabbed or +shot through the heart?" + +"I never have, but I know mighty well he wouldn't undo his necktie +afterwards." + +Dupré threw back his head and laughed. + +"Who is flippant now?" he asked. "I don't undo my necktie, I merely +tear off my collar, which a dying man may surely be permitted to do. +But until you have seen a man die from such a stab as I receive every +night, I don't understand how you can justly find fault with my +rendition of the tragedy. I imagine, you know, that the truth lies +between the two extremes. The man done to death would likely not make +such a fuss as I make, nor would he depart so quickly as you say he +would, without giving the gallery gods a show for their money. But here +we are at the theatre, Carlos, and this acrimonious debate is closed-- +until we take our next walk together." + +In front of the theatre, soldiers were on duty, marching up and down +with muskets on their shoulders, to show that the state was mighty and +could take charge of a theatre as well as conduct a war. There were +many loungers about, which might have indicated to a person who did not +know, that there would be a good house when the play began. The two +actors met the manager in the throng near the door. + +"How are prospects to-night?" asked Dupré. + +"Very poor," replied the manager. "Not half a dozen seats have been +sold." + +"Then it isn't worth while beginning?" + +"We must begin," said the manager, lowering his voice, "the President +has ordered me not to close the theatre." + +"Oh, hang the President!" cried Lemoine impatiently. "Why doesn't he +put a stop to the war, and then the theatre would remain open of its +own accord." + +"He is doing his best to put a stop to the war, only his army does not +carry out his orders as implicitly as our manager does," said Dupré, +smiling at the other's vehemence. + +"Balmeceda is a fool," retorted the younger actor. "If he were out of +the way, the war would not last another day. I believe he is playing a +losing game, anyhow. It's a pity he hasn't to go to the front himself, +and then a stray bullet might find him and put an end to the war, which +would save the lives of many better men." + +"I say, Lemoine, I wish you wouldn't talk like that," expostulated the +manager gently, "especially when there are so many listeners." + +"Oh! the larger my audience, the better I like it," rejoined Lemoine. +"I have all an actor's vanity in that respect. I say what I think, and +I don't care who hears me." + +"Yes, but you forget that we are, in a measure, guests of this country, +and we should not abuse our hosts, or the man who represents them." + +"Ah, does he represent them? It seems to me you beg the whole question; +that's just what the war is about. The general opinion is that +Balmeceda misrepresents them, and that the country would be glad to be +rid of him." + +"That may all be," said the manager almost in a whisper, for he was a +man evidently inclined towards peace; "but it does not rest with us to +say so. We are French, and I think, therefore, it is better not to +express an opinion." + +"I'm not French," cried Lemoine. "I'm a native Chilian, and I have a +right to abuse my own country if I choose to do so." + +"All the more reason, then," said the manager, looking timorously over +his shoulder--"all the more reason that you should be careful what you +say." + +"I suppose," said Dupré, by way of putting an end to the discussion, +"it is time for us to get our war-paint on. Come along, Lemoine, and +lecture me on our common art, and stop talking politics, if the +nonsense you utter about Chili and its president is politics." + +The two actors entered the theatre; they occupied the same dressing- +room, and the volatile Lemoine talked incessantly. + +Although there were but few people in the stalls the gallery was well +filled, as was usually the case. + +When going on for the last act in the final scene, Dupré whispered a +word to the man who controlled the falling of the curtain, and when the +actor, as the villain of the piece, received the fatal knife-thrust +from the ill-used heroine, he plunged forward on his face and died +without a struggle, to the amazement of the manager, who was watching +the play from the front of the house, and to the evident bewilderment +of the gallery, who had counted on an exciting struggle with death. + +Much as they desired the cutting off of the villain, they were not +pleased to see him so suddenly shift his worlds without an agonising +realisation of the fact that he was quitting an existence in which he +had done nothing but evil. The curtain came down upon the climax, but +there was no applause, and the audience silently filtered out into the +street. + +"There," said Dupré, when he returned to his dressing-room; "I hope you +are satisfied now, Lemoine, and if you are, you are the only satisfied +person in the house. I fell perfectly flat, as you suggested, and you +must have seen that the climax of the play fell flat also." + +"Nevertheless," persisted Lemoine, stoutly, "it was the true rendering +of the part." + +As they were talking the manager came into their dressing-room. "Good +heavens, Dupré!" he said, "why did you end the piece in that idiotic +way? What on earth got into you?" + +"The knife," said Dupré, flippantly. "It went directly through the +heart, and Lemoine here insists that when that happens a man should +fall dead instantly. I did it to please Lemoine." + +"But you spoiled your curtain," protested the manager. + +"Yes, I knew that would happen, and I told Lemoine so; but he insists +on art for art's sake. You must expostulate with Lemoine, although I +don't mind telling you both frankly that I don't intend to die in that +way again." + +"Well, I hope not," replied the manager. "I don't want you to kill the +play as well as yourself, you know, Dupré." + +Lemoine, whose face had by this time become restored to its normal +appearance, retorted hotly-- + +"It all goes to show how we are surrounded and hampered by the +traditions of the stage. The gallery wants to see a man die all over +the place, and so the victim has to scatter the furniture about and +make a fool of himself generally, when he should quietly succumb to a +well-deserved blow. You ask any physician and he will tell you that a +man stabbed or shot through the heart collapses at once. There is no +jumping-jack business in such a case. He doesn't play at leapfrog with +the chairs and sofas, but sinks instantly to the floor and is done +for." + +"Come along, Lemoine," cried Dupré, putting on his coat, "and stop +talking nonsense. True art consists in a judicious blending of the +preconceived ideas of the gallery with the usual facts of the case. An +instantaneous photograph of a trotting-horse is doubtless technically +and absolutely correct, yet it is not a true picture of the animal in +motion." + +"Then you admit," said Lemoine, quickly, "that I am technically correct +in what I state about the result of such a wound." + +"I admit nothing," said Dupré. "I don't believe you are correct in +anything you say about the matter. I suppose the truth is that no two +men die alike under the same circumstances." + +"They do when the heart is touched." + +"What absurd nonsense you talk! No two men act alike when the heart is +touched in love, why then should they when it is touched in death? Come +along to the hotel, and let us stop this idiotic discussion." + +"Ah!" sighed Lemoine, "you will throw your chances away. You are too +careless, Dupré; you do not study enough. This kind of thing is all +very well in Chili, but it will wreck your chances when you go to +Paris. If you studied more deeply, Dupré, you would take Paris by +storm." + +"Thanks," said Dupré, lightly; "but unless the rebels take this city by +storm, and that shortly, we may never see Paris again. To tell the +truth, I have no heart for anything but the heroine's knife. I am sick +and tired of the situation here." + +As Dupré spoke they met a small squad of soldiers coming briskly +towards the theatre. The man in charge evidently recognised them, for, +saying a word to his men, they instantly surrounded the two actors. The +sergeant touched Lemoine on the shoulder, and said-- + +"It is my duty to arrest you, sir." + +"In Heaven's name, why?" asked Lemoine. + +The man did not answer, but a soldier stepped to either side of +Lemoine. + +"Am I under arrest also?" asked Dupré. + +"No." + +"By what authority do you arrest my friend?" inquired Dupré. + +"By the President's order." + +"But where is your authority? Where are your papers? Why is this arrest +made?" + +The sergeant shook his head and said-- + +"We have the orders of the President, and that is sufficient for us. +Stand back, please!" + +The next instant Dupré found himself alone, with the squad and their +prisoner disappearing down a back street. For a moment he stood there +as if dazed, then he turned and ran as fast as he could, back to the +theatre again, hoping to meet a carriage for hire on the way. Arriving +at the theatre, he found the lights out, and the manager on the point +of leaving. + +"Lemoine has been arrested," he cried; "arrested by a squad of soldiers +whom we met, and they said they acted by order of the President." + +The manager seemed thunderstruck by the intelligence, and gazed +helplessly at Dupré. + +"What is the charge?" he said at last. + +"That I do not know," answered the actor. "They simply said they were +acting under the President's orders." + +"This is bad; as bad as can be," said the manager, looking over his +shoulder, and speaking as if in fear. "Lemoine has been talking +recklessly. I never could get him to realise that he was in Chili, and +that he must not be so free in his speech. He always insisted that this +was the nineteenth century, and a man could say what he liked; as if +the nineteenth century had anything to do with a South American +Republic." + +"You don't imagine," said Dupré, with a touch of pallor coming into his +cheeks, "that this is anything serious. It will mean nothing more than +a day or two in prison at the worst?" + +The manager shook his head and said-- + +"We had better get a carriage and see the President as soon as +possible. I'll undertake to send Lemoine back to Paris, or to put him +on board one of the French ironclads. But there is no time to be lost. +We can probably get a carriage in the square." + +They found a carriage and drove as quickly as they could to the +residence of the President. At first they were refused admittance, but +finally they were allowed to wait in a small room while their message +was taken to Balmeceda. An hour passed, but still no invitation came to +them from the President. The manager sat silent in a corner, while +Dupré paced up and down the small room, torn with anxiety about his +friend. At last an officer entered, and presented them with the +compliments of the President, who regretted that it was impossible for +him to see them that night. The officer added, for their information, +by order of the President, that Lemoine was to be shot at daybreak. He +had been tried by court-martial and condemned to death for sedition. +The President regretted having kept them waiting so long, but the +court-martial had been sitting when they arrived, and the President +thought that perhaps they would be interested in knowing the verdict. +With that the officer escorted the two dumb-founded men to the door, +where they got into their carriage without a word. The moment they were +out of earshot the manager said to the coachman-- + +"Drive as quickly as you can to the residence of the French Minister." + +Every one at the French Legation had retired when these two panic- +stricken men reached there, but after a time the secretary consented to +see them, and, on learning the seriousness of the case, he undertook to +arouse his Excellency, and learn if anything could be done. + +The Minister entered the room shortly after, and listened with interest +to what they had to say. + +"You have your carriage at the door?" he asked, when they had finished +their recital. + +"Yes." + +"Then I will take it and see the President at once. Perhaps you will +wait here until I return." + +Another hour dragged its slow length along, and they were well into the +second hour before the rattle of wheels was heard in the silent street. +The Minister came in, and the two anxious men saw by his face that he +had failed in his mission. + +"I am sorry to say," said his Excellency, "that I have been unable even +to get the execution postponed. I did not understand, when I undertook +the mission, that M. Lemoine was a citizen of Chili. You see that fact +puts the matter entirely out of my hands. I am powerless. I could only +advise the President not to carry out his intentions; but he is to- +night in a most unreasonable and excited mood, and I fear nothing can +be done to save your friend. If he had been a citizen of France, of +course this execution would not have been permitted to take place; but, +as it is, it is not our affair. M. Lemoine seems to have been talking +with some indiscretion. He does not deny it himself, nor does he deny +his citizenship. If he had taken a conciliatory attitude at the court- +martial, the result might not have been so disastrous; but it seems +that he insulted the President to his face, and predicted that he +would, within two weeks, meet him in Hades. The utmost I could do, was +to get the President to sign a permit for you to see your friend, if +you present it at the prison before the execution takes place. I fear +you have no time to lose. Here is the paper." + +Dupré took the document, and thanked his Excellency for his exertions +on their behalf. He realised that Lemoine had sealed his own fate by +his independence and lack of tact. + +The two dejected men drove from the Legation and through the deserted +streets to the prison. They were shown through several stone-paved +rooms to a stone-paved courtyard, and there they waited for some time +until the prisoner was brought in between two soldiers. Lemoine had +thrown off his coat, and appeared in his shirt sleeves. He was not +manacled or bound in any way, there being too many prisoners for each +one to be allowed the luxury of fetters. + +"Ah," cried Lemoine when he saw them, "I knew you would come if that +old scoundrel of a President would allow you in, of which I had my +doubts. How did you manage it?" + +"The French Minister got us a permit," said Dupré. + +"Oh, you went to him, did you? Of course he could do nothing, for, as I +told you, I have the misfortune to be a citizen of this country. How +comically life is made up of trivialities. I remember once, in Paris, +going with a friend to take the oath of allegiance to the French +Republic." + +"And did you take it?" cried Dupré eagerly. + +"Alas, no! We met two other friends, and we all adjourned to a café and +had something to drink. I little thought that bottle of champagne was +going to cost me my life, for, of course, if I had taken the oath of +allegiance, my friend, the French Minister, would have bombarded the +city before he would have allowed the execution to go on." + +"Then you know to what you are condemned," said the manager, with tears +in his eyes. + +"Oh, I know that Balmeceda thinks he is going to have me shot; but then +he always was a fool, and never knew what he was talking about. I told +him if he would allow you two in at the execution, and instead of +having a whole squad to fire at me, order one expert marksman, if he +had such a thing in his whole army, to shoot me through the heart, that +I would show you, Dupré, how a man dies under such circumstances, but +the villain refused. The usurper has no soul for art, or anything else, +for that matter. I hope you won't mind my death. I assure you I don't +mind it myself. I would much rather be shot than live in this +confounded country any longer. But I have made up my mind to cheat old +Balmeceda if I can, and I want you, Dupré, to pay particular attention, +and not to interfere." + +As Lemoine said this he quickly snatched from the sheath at the +soldier's side the bayonet which hung at his hip. The soldiers were +standing one to the right, and one to the left of him, with their hands +interlaced over the muzzles of their guns, whose butts rested on the +stone floor. They apparently paid no attention to the conversation that +was going on, if they understood it, which was unlikely. Lemoine had +the bayonet in his hands before either of the four men present knew +what he was doing. + +Grasping both hands over the butt of the bayonet, with the point +towards his breast, he thrust the blade with desperate energy nearly +through his body. The whole action was done so quickly that no one +realised what had happened until Lemoine threw his hands up and they +saw the bayonet sticking in his breast. A look of agony came in the +wounded man's eyes, and his lips whitened. He staggered against the +soldier at his right, who gave way with the impact, and then he +tottered against the whitewashed stone wall, his right arm sweeping +automatically up and down the wall as if he were brushing something +from the stones. A groan escaped him, and he dropped on one knee. His +eyes turned helplessly towards Dupré, and he gasped out the words-- + +"My God! You were right--after all." + +Then he fell forward on his face and the tragedy ended. + +[Illustration: "MY GOD, YOU WERE RIGHT AFTER ALL!"] + + + + +TWO FLORENTINE BALCONIES. + + +Prince Padema sat desolately on his lofty balcony at Florence, and +cursed things generally. Fate had indeed dealt hardly with the young +man. + +The Prince had been misled by the apparent reasonableness of the adage, +that if you want a thing well done you should do it yourself. In +committing a murder it is always advisable to have some one else to do +it for you, but the Prince's plans had been several times interfered +with by the cowardice or inefficiency of his emissaries, so on one +unfortunate occasion he had determined to remove an objectionable man +with his own hand, and realised then how easily mistakes may occur. + +He had met the man face to face under a corner lamp in Venice. The +recognition was mutual, and the man, fearing his noble enemy, had fled. +The Prince pursued, and the man apparently tried to double upon him, +and, with his cloak over his face, endeavoured to sneak past along the +dark wall. When the Prince deftly ran the dagger into his vitals, he +was surprised that the man made no resistance or outcry, made no effort +to ward off the blow, but sunk lifeless at the Prince's feet with a +groan. + +Alarmed at this, the Prince bade his servant drag the body to a spot +where a votive lamp set in the wall threw dim yellow rays to the +pavement. Then his Highness was appalled to see that he had +assassinated a scion of one of the noblest families of Venice, which +was a very different thing from murdering a man of low degree whose +life the law took little note of. + +So the Prince had to flee from Venice, and he took up his residence in +a narrow street in an obscure part of Florence. + +Seldom had fate played a man so scurvy a trick, and the Prince was +fully justified in his cursing, for the unfortunate episode had +interrupted a most absorbing amour which, at that moment, was rapidly +approaching an interesting climax. + +Prince Padema had been several weeks in Florence, and those weeks had +been deadly dull. "The women of Florence," he said to himself bitterly, +"are not to be compared with those of Venice." But even if they had +been, the necessity of keeping quiet, for a time at least, would have +prevented the Prince from taking advantage of his enforced sojourn in +the fair city. + +On this particular evening, the Prince's sombre meditations were +interrupted by a song. The song apparently came from the same building +in which his suite of rooms were situated, and from an open window some +distance below him. What caught his attention was the fact that the +song was Venetian, and the voice that sang it was the rich mellow voice +of Venice. + +There were other exiles, then, beside himself. He peered over the edge +of the balcony perched like an eagle's nest high above the narrow stone +street, and endeavoured to locate the open window from which the song +came, or, better still, to catch a glimpse of the singer. + +For a time he was unsuccessful, but at last his patience was rewarded. +On a balcony to the right, and some distance below his own, there +appeared the most beautiful girl even he had ever seen. The dark, oval +face was so distinctly Venetian that he almost persuaded himself he had +met her in his native town. + +She stood with her hands on the top rail of the balcony, her dark hair +tumbled in rich confusion over her shapely shoulders. The golden light +in the evening sky touched her face with glory, as she looked towards +it, of that part of it that could be seen at the end of the narrow +street. + +The Prince's heart beat high as he gazed upon the face that was +unconscious of his scrutiny. Instantly the thought flashed over him +that exile in Florence might, after all, have its compensations. + +"Pietro," he whispered softly through his own open windows to the +servant who was moving silently about the room, "come here for a +moment, quietly." + +The servant came stealthily to the edge of the window. + +"You see that girl on the lower balcony," said the Prince in a whisper. + +Pietro nodded. + +"Find out for me who she is--why she is here--whether she has any +friends. Do it silently, so as to arouse no suspicion." + +Again his faithful servant nodded, and disappeared into the gloom of +the room. + +Next day Pietro brought to his eager master what information he had +been able to glean. He had succeeded in forming the acquaintance of the +Signorina's maid. + +For some reason, which the maid either did not know or would not +disclose, the Signorina was exiled for a time from Venice. She belonged +to a good family there, but the name of the family the maid also +refused to divulge. She dared not tell it, she said. They had been in +Florence for several weeks, but had only taken the rooms below within +the last two days. The Signorina received absolutely no one, and the +maid had been cautioned to say nothing whatever about her to any +person; but she had apparently succumbed in a measure to the +blandishments of gallant Pietro. + +The rooms had been taken because of their quiet and obscure position. + +That evening the Prince was again upon his balcony, but his thoughts +were not so bitter as they had been the day before. He had a bouquet of +beautiful flowers beside him. He listened for the Venetian song, but +was disappointed at not hearing it; and he hoped that Pietro had not +been so injudicious as to arouse the suspicions of the maid, who might +communicate them to her mistress. He held his breath eagerly as he +heard the windows below open. The maid came out on the balcony and +placed an easy-chair in the corner of it. She deftly arranged the +cushions and the drapery of it, and presently the Signorina herself +appeared, and with languid grace seated herself. + +The Prince had now a full view of her lovely face, as the girl rested +her elbow on the railing of the balcony, and her cheek upon her hand. + +"You may go now, Pepita," said the girl. + +The maid threw a lace shawl over the shoulders of her mistress, and +departed. + +The Prince leaned over the balcony and whispered, "Signorina." + +The startled girl looked up and down the street, and then at the +balcony which stood out against the opalescent sky, the tracery of +ironwork showing like delicate etching on the luminous background. + +She flushed and dropped her eyes, making no reply. + +"Signorina," repeated the Prince, "I, too, am an exile. Pardon me. It +is in remembrance of our lovely city;" and with that he lightly flung +the bouquet, which fell at her feet on the floor of the balcony. + +For a few moments the girl did not move nor raise her eyes; then she +cast a quick glance through the open window into her room. After some +slight hesitation she stooped gracefully and picked up the bouquet. + +"Ah, beautiful Venice!" she murmured with a sigh, still not looking +upwards. + +The Prince was delighted with the success of his first advance, which +is always the difficult step. + +Evening after evening they sat there later and later. The acquaintance +ripened to its inevitable conclusion--the conclusion the Prince had +counted on from the first. + +One evening she stood in the darkness with her cheek pressed against +the wall at the corner of her balcony nearest to him; he looked over +and downward at her. + +"It cannot be. It cannot be," she said, with a frightened quaver in her +voice, but a quaver which the Prince recognised, with his large +experience, as the tone of yielding. + +"It must be," he whispered down to her. "It was ordained from the +first. It has to be." + +The girl was weeping silently. + +"It is impossible," she said at last. "My servant sleeps outside my +door. Even if she did not know, your servant would, and there would be +gossip--and scandal. It is impossible." + +"Nothing is impossible," cried the Prince eagerly, "where true love +exists. I shall lock my door, and Pietro shall know nothing about it. +He never comes unless I call him. I will get a rope and throw it to +your balcony. Lock you your door as I do mine. In the darkness nothing +is seen." + +"No, no," she murmured. "That would not do. You could not climb back +again, and all would be lost." + +"Oh, nonsense!" cried the young man eagerly. "It is nothing to climb +back." He was about to add that he had done it frequently before, but +he checked himself in time. + +For a moment she was silent. Then she said: "I cannot risk your not +getting back. It must be certain. If you get a rope--a strong rope--and +put a loop in it for your foot, and pass the other end of the rope to +me around the staunchest railing of your balcony, I will let you down +to the level of my own. Then you can easily swing yourself within +reach. If you find you cannot climb back, I can help you, by pulling on +the rope and you will ascend as you came down." + +The Prince laughed lightly. + +"Do you think," he said, "that your frail hands are stronger than +mine?" + +"Four hands," she replied, "are stronger than two. Besides, I am not so +weak as, perhaps, you think." + +"Very well," he replied, not in a mood to cavil about trivialities. +"When shall it be--to-night?" + +"No; to-morrow night. You must get your rope to-morrow." + +Again the Prince laughed quietly. + +"I have the rope in my room now," he answered. + +"You were very sure," she said softly. + +"No, not sure. I was strong in hope. Is your door locked?" + +"Yes," she replied in an agitated whisper. "But it is still early. Wait +an hour or two." + +"Ah!" cried the Prince, "it will never be darker than at this moment, +and think, my darling, how long I have waited!" + +There was no reply. + +"Stand inside the window," whispered the Prince. As she did so a coil +of rope fell on the balcony. + +"Have you got it?" he asked. + +"Yes," was the scarcely audible reply. + +"Then don't trust to your own strength. Give it a turn around the +balcony rail." + +"I have done so," she whispered. + +Although he could not see her because of the darkness, she saw him +silhouetted against the night sky. + +He tested the loop, putting his foot in it and pulling at the rope with +both hands. Then he put the rope round the corner support of the +balcony. + +"Are you sure the rope is strong enough?" she asked. "Who bought it?" + +"Pietro got it for me. It is strong enough to hold ten men." + +His foot was in the loop, and he slung himself from his balcony, +holding the rope with both hands. + +"Let it go very gently," he said. "I will tell you when you have +lowered enough." + +Holding the end of the rope firmly, the girl let it out inch by inch. + +"That is enough," the Prince said at last; and she held him where he +was, leaning over the balcony towards him. + +"Prince Padema," she said to him. + +"Ah!" cried the man with a start. "How did you learn my name?" + +"I have long known it. It is a name of sorrow to our family. + +"Prince," she continued, "have you never seen anything in my face that +brought recollection to you? Or is your memory so short that the grief +you bring to others leaves no trace on your own mind?" + +"God!" cried the Prince in alarm, seizing the rope above him as if to +climb back. "What do you mean?" + +The girl loosened the rope for an inch or two, and the Prince was +lowered with a sickening feeling in his heart as he realised his +position a hundred feet above the stone street. + +"I can see you plainly," said the girl in hard and husky tones. "If you +make an attempt to climb to your balcony, I will at once loosen the +rope. Is it possible you have not suspected who I am, and why I am +here?" + +The Prince was dizzy. He had whirled gently around in one direction for +some time, but now the motion ceased, and he began to revolve with +equal gentleness in the other direction, like the body of a man who is +hanged. + +A sharp memory pierced his brain. + +"Meela is dead," he cried, with a gasp in his breath. "She was drowned. +You are flesh and blood. Tell me you are not her spirit?" + +"I cannot tell you that," answered the girl. "My own spirit seemed to +leave me when the body of my sister was brought from the canal at the +foot of our garden. You know the place well; you know the gate and the +steps. I think her spirit then took the place of my own. Ever since +that day I have lived only for revenge, and now, Prince Padema, the +hour I have waited for is come." + +An agonising cry for help rang through the silent street, but there was +no answer to the call. + +"It is useless," said the girl calmly. "It will be accounted an +accident. Your servant bought the rope that will be found with you. Any +one who knows you will have an explanation ready for what has happened. +No one will suspect me, and I want you to know that your death will be +unavenged, prince though you are." + +"You are a demon," he cried. + +She watched him silently as he stealthily climbed up the rope. He did +not appear sufficiently to realise how visible his body was against the +still luminous sky. When he was within a foot of his balcony she +loosened the rope, and again he sunk to where he had been before, and +hung there exhausted by his futile effort. + +"I will marry you," he said, "if you will let me reach my balcony +again. I will, upon my honour. You shall be a princess." + +She laughed lightly. + +"We Venetians never forget nor forgive. Prince Padema, good-bye!" + +She sunk fainting in her chair as she let go the rope, and clapped her +hands to her ears, so that no sound came up from the stone street +below. When she staggered into her room, all was silence. + + + + +THE EXPOSURE OF LORD STANSFORD. + + +The large mansion of Louis Heckle, millionaire and dealer in gold +mines, was illuminated from top to bottom. Carriages were arriving and +departing, and guests were hurrying up the carpeted stair after passing +under the canopy that stretched from the doorway to the edge of the +street. A crowd of on-lookers stood on the pavement watching the +arrival of ladies so charmingly attired. Lord Stansford came alone in a +hansom, and he walked quickly across the bit of carpet stretched to the +roadway, and then more leisurely up the broad stair. He was an athletic +young fellow of twenty-six, or thereabout. The moment he entered the +large reception-room his eyes wandered, searchingly, over the gallant +company, apparently looking for some one whom he could not find. He +passed into a further room, and through that into a third, and there, +his searching gaze met the stare of Billy Heckle. Heckle was a young +man of about the same age as Lord Stansford, and he also was seemingly +on the look-out for some one among the arriving guests. The moment he +saw Lord Stansford a slight frown gathered upon his brow, and he moved +among the throng toward the spot where the other stood. Stansford saw +him coming, and did not seem to be so pleased as might have been +expected, but he made no motion to avoid the young man, who accosted +him without salutation. + +"Look here," said Heckle gruffly, "I want a word with you." + +"Very well," answered Stansford, in a low voice; "so long as you speak +in tones no one else can hear, I am willing to listen." + +"You will listen, whether or no," replied the other, who, nevertheless, +took the hint and subdued his voice. "I have met you on various +occasions lately, and I want to give you a word of warning. You seem to +be very devoted to Miss Linderham, so perhaps you do not know she is +engaged to me." + +"I have heard it so stated," said Lord Stansford, "but I have found +some difficulty in believing the statement." + +"Now, see here," cried the horsey young man, "I want none of your +cheek, and I give you fair warning that, if you pay any more attention +to the young lady, I shall expose you in public. I mean what I say, and +I am not going to stand any of your nonsense." + +Lord Stansford's face grew pale, and he glanced about him to see if by +chance any one had overheard the remark. He seemed about to resent it, +but finally gained control over himself and said-- + +"We are in your father's house, Mr. Heckle, and I suppose it is quite +safe to address a remark like that to me!" + +"I know it's quite safe--anywhere," replied Heckle. "You've got the +straight tip from me; now see you pay attention to it." + +Heckle turned away, and Lord Stansford, after standing there for a +moment, wandered back to the middle room. The conversation had taken +place somewhat near a heavily-curtained window, and the two men stood +slightly apart from the other guests. When they left the spot the +curtains were drawn gently apart, and a tall, very handsome young lady +stepped from between them. She watched Lord Stansford's retreat for a +moment, and then made as though she would follow him, but one of her +admirers came forward to claim her hand for the first dance. "Music has +just begun in the ball-room," he said. She placed her hand on the arm +of her partner and went out with him. + +When the dance was over, she was amazed to see Lord Stansford still in +the room. She had expected him to leave, when the son of his host spoke +so insultingly to him, but the young man had not departed. He appeared +to be enjoying himself immensely, and danced through every dance with +the utmost devotion, which rather put to shame many of the young men +who lounged against the walls; never once, however, did he come near +Miss Linderham until the evening was well on, and then he passed her by +accident. She touched him on the arm with her fan, and he looked round +quickly. + +"Oh, how do you do, Miss Linderham?" he said. + +"Why have you ignored me all the evening?" she asked, looking at him +with sparkling eyes. + +"I haven't ignored you," he replied, with some embarrassment; "I did +not know you were here." + +"Oh, that is worse than ignoring," replied Miss Linderham, with a +laugh; "but now that you do know I am here, I wish you to take me into +the garden. It is becoming insufferably hot in here." + +"Yes," said the young man, getting red in the face, "it is warm." + +The girl could not help noticing his reluctance, but nevertheless she +took his arm, and they passed through several rooms to the terrace +which faced the garden. Lord Stansford's anxious eyes again seemed to +search the rooms through which they passed, and again, on encountering +those of Billy Heckle, Miss Linderham's escort shivered slightly as he +passed on. The girl wondered what mystery was at the bottom of all +this, and with feminine curiosity resolved to find out, even if she had +to ask Lord Stansford himself. They sauntered along one of the walks +until they reached a seat far from the house. The music floated out to +them through the open windows, faint in the distance. Miss Linderham +sat down and motioned Lord Stansford to sit beside her. "Now," she +said, turning her handsome face full upon him, "why have you avoided me +all the evening?" + +"I haven't avoided you," he said. + +"Tut, tut, you mustn't contradict a lady, you know. I want the reason, +the real reason, and no excuses." + +Before the young man could reply, Billy Heckle, his face flushed with +wine or anger, or perhaps both, strode down the path and confronted +them. + +"I gave you your warning," he cried. + +Lord Stansford sprang to his feet; Miss Linderham arose also, and +looked in some alarm from one young man to the other. + +"Stop a moment, Heckle; don't say a word, and I will meet you where you +like afterwards," hurriedly put in his lordship. + +"Afterwards is no good to me," answered Heckle. "I gave you the tip, +and you haven't followed it." + +"I beg you to remember," said Stansford, in a low voice with a tremor +in it, "there is a lady present." + +Miss Linderham turned to go. + +"Stop a moment," cried Heckle; "do you know who this man is?" + +Miss Linderham stopped, but did not answer. + +"I'll tell you who he is: he is a hired guest. My father pays five +guineas for his presence here to-night, and every place you have met +him, he has been there on hire. That's the kind of man Lord Stansford +is. I told you I should expose you. Now I am going to tell the others." + +Lord Stansford's face was as white as paper. His teeth were clinched, +and taking one quick step forward, he smote Heckle fair between the two +eyes and felled him to the ground. + +"You cur!" he cried. "Get up, or I shall kick you, and hate myself ever +after for doing it." + +Young Heckle picked himself up, cursing under his breath. + +"I'll settle with you, my man," he cried; "I'll get a policeman. You'll +spend the remainder of this night in the cells." + +"I shall do nothing of the sort," answered Lord Stansford, catching him +by both wrists with an iron grasp. "Now pay attention to me, Billy +Heckle: you feel my grip on your wrist; you felt my blow in your face, +didn't you? Now you go into the house by whatever back entrance there +is, go to your room, wash the blood off your face, and stay there, +otherwise, by God, I'll break both of your wrists as you stand here," +and he gave the wrists a wrench that made the other wince, big and +bulky as he was. + +"I promise," said Heckle. + +"Very well, see that you keep your promise." + +Young Heckle slunk away, and Lord Stansford turned to Miss Linderham, +who stood looking on, speechless with horror and surprise. + +"What a brute you are!" she cried, her under lip quivering. + +"Yes," he replied quietly. "Most of us men are brutes when you take a +little of the varnish off. Won't you sit down, Miss Linderham? There is +no need now to reply to the question you asked me: the incident you +have witnessed, and what you have heard, has been its answer." + +The young lady did not sit down; she stood looking at him, her eyes +softening a trifle. + +"Is it true, then?" she cried. + +"Is what true?" + +"That you are here as a hired guest?" + +"Yes, it is true." + +"Then why did you knock him down, if it was the truth?" + +"Because he spoke the truth before you." + +"I hope, Lord Stansford, you don't mean to imply that I am in any way +responsible for your ruffianism?" + +"You are, and in more than one sense of the word. That young fellow +threatened me when I came here to-night, knowing that I was his +father's hired guest; I did not wish exposure, and so I avoided you. +You spoke to me, and asked me to bring you out here. I came, knowing +that if Heckle saw me he would carry out his threat. He has carried it +out, and I have had the pleasure of knocking him down." + +Miss Linderham sank upon the seat, and once more motioned with her fan +for him to take the place beside her. + +"Then you receive five guineas a night for appearing at the different +places where I have met you?" + +"As a matter of fact," said Stansford, "I get only two guineas. I +suppose the other three, if such is the price paid, goes to my +employers." + +"I thought Mr. Heckle was your employer tonight?" + +"I mean to the company who let me out, if I make myself clear; Spink +and Company. Telephone 100,803. If you should ever want an eligible +guest for any entertainment you give, and men are scarce, you have only +to telephone them, and they will send me to you." + +"Oh, I see," said Miss Linderham, tapping her knee with the fan. + +"It is only justice to my fellow employés," continued Lord Stansford, +"to say that I believe they are all eligible young men, but many of +them may be had for a guinea. The charge in my case is higher as I have +a title. I have tried to flatter myself that it was my polished, +dignified manner that won me the extra remuneration; but after your +exclamation on my brutality to-night, I am afraid I must fall back on +my title. We members of the aristocracy come high, you know." + +There was silence between them for a few moments, and then the girl +looked up at him and said-- + +"Aren't you ashamed of your profession, Lord Stansford?" + +"Yes," replied Lord Stansford, "I am." + +"Then why do you follow it?" + +"Why does a man sweep a street-crossing? Lack of money. One must have +money, you know, to get along in this world; and I, alas, have none. I +had a little once; I wanted to make it more, so gambled--and lost. I +laid low for a couple of years, and saw none of my old acquaintances; +but it was no use, there was nothing I could turn my hand to. This +profession, as you call it, led me back into my old set again. It is +true that many of the houses I frequented before my disaster overtook +me, do not hire guests. I am more in demand by the new-rich, like +Heckle here, who, with his precious son, does not know how to treat a +guest, even when that guest is hired." + +"But I should think," said Miss Linderham, "that a man like you would +go to South Africa or Australia, where there are great things to be +done. I imagine, from the insight I have had into your character, you +would make a good fighter. Why don't you go where fighting is +appreciated, and where they do not call a policeman?" + +"I have often thought of it, Miss Linderham, but you see, to secure an +appointment, one needs to have a certain amount of influence, and be +able to pass examinations, I can't pass an examination in anything. I +have quarrelled with all my people, and have no influence. To tell you +the truth, I am saving up money now in the hope of being able to buy an +outfit to go to the Cape." + +"You would much rather be in London, though, I suppose?" + +"Yes, if I had a reasonably good income." + +"Are you open to a fair offer?" + +"What do you mean by a fair offer?" + +"I mean, would you entertain a proposal in your present line of +business with increased remuneration?" + +The young man sat silent for a few moments and did not look at his +companion. When he spoke there was a shade of resentment in his voice. + +"I thought you saw, Miss Linderham, that I was not very proud of my +present occupation." + +"No, but, as you said, a man will do anything for money." + +"I beg your pardon for again contradicting you, but I never said +anything of the sort." + +"I thought you did, when you were speaking of the crossing-sweeping; +but never mind, I know a lady who has plenty of money; she is an +artist; at least, she thinks she is one, and wishes to devote her life +to art. She is continually pestered by offers of marriage, and she +knows these offers come to her largely because of her money. Now, this +lady wishes to marry a man, and will settle upon him two thousand +pounds a year. Would you be willing to accept that offer if I got you +an introduction?" + +"It would depend very much on the lady," said Stansford. + +"Oh no, it wouldn't; for you would have nothing whatever to do with +her, except that you would be her hired husband. She wants to devote +herself to painting, not to you--don't you understand? and so long as +you did not trouble her, you could enjoy your two thousand pounds a +year. You, perhaps, might have to appear at some of the receptions she +would give, and I have no doubt she would add five guineas an evening +for your presence. That would be an extra, you know." + +There was a long silence between them after Maggie Linderham ceased +speaking. The young man kicked the gravel with his toes, and his eyes +were bent upon the path before him. "He is thinking it over," said Miss +Linderham to herself. At last Lord Stansford looked up, with a sigh. + +"Did you see the late scuffle between the unfortunate Heckle and +myself?" + +"Did I see it?" she asked. "How could I help seeing it?" + +"Ah, then, did you notice that when he was down I helped him up?" + +"Yes; and threatened to break his wrists when you got him up." + +"Quite so. I should have done it, too, if he had not promised. But what +I wanted to call your attention to, was the fact that he was standing +up when I struck him, and I want also to impress upon you the other +fact, that I did not hit him when he was down. Did you notice that?" + +"Of course, I noticed it. No man would hit another when he was down." + +"I am very glad, Miss Linderham, that you recognise it as a code of +honour with us men, brutes as we are. Don't you think a woman should be +equally generous?" + +"Certainly; but I don't see what you mean." + +"I mean this, Miss Linderham, that your offer is hitting me when I'm +down." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Linderham, in dismay. "I'm sure I beg your pardon; +I did not look at it in that light." + +"Oh, it doesn't matter very much," said Stansford, rising; "it's all +included in the two guineas, but I'm pleased to think I have some self- +respect left, and that I can refuse your lady, and will not become a +hired husband at two thousand pounds a year. May I see you back to the +house, Miss Linderham? As you are well aware, I have duties towards +other guests who are not hired, and it is a point of honour with me to +earn my money. I wouldn't like a complaint to reach the ears of Spink +and Company." + +Miss Linderham rose and placed her hand within his arm. + +"Telephone, what number?" she asked. + +"Telephone 100,803," he answered. "I am sorry the firm did not provide +me with some of their cards when I was at the office this afternoon." + +"It doesn't matter," said Miss Linderham; "I will remember," and they +entered the house together. + +Next day, at a large studio in Kensington, none of the friends who had +met Miss Linderham at the ball the evening before would have recognised +the girl; not but what she was as pretty as ever, perhaps a little +prettier, with her long white pinafore and her pretty fingers +discoloured by the crayons she was using. She was trying to sketch upon +the canvas before her the figure of a man, striking out from the +shoulder, and she did not seem to have much success with her drawing, +perhaps because she had no model, and perhaps because her mind was pre- +occupied. She would sit for a long time staring at the canvas, then +jump up and put in lines which did not appear to bring the rough sketch +any nearer perfection. + +The room was large, with a good north window, and scattered about were +the numberless objects that go to the confusing make-up of an artist's +workshop. At last Miss Linderham threw down her crayon, went to the end +of the room where a telephone hung, and rang the bell. + +"Give me," she said, "100,803." + +After a few moments of waiting, a voice came. + +"Is that Spink and Company?" she asked. + +"Yes, madam," was the reply. + +"You have in your employ Lord Stansford, I think?" + +"Yes, madam." + +"Is he engaged for this afternoon?" + +"No, madam." + +"Well, send him to Miss Linderham, No. 2,044, Cromwell Road, South +Kensington." + +The man at the other end wrote the address, and then asked-- + +"At what hour, madam?" + +"I want him from four till six o'clock." + +"Very well, madam, we shall send him." + +"Now," said Miss Linderham, with a sigh of relief, "I can have a model +who will strike the right attitude. It is so difficult to draw from +memory." + +The reason why so many women fail as artists, as well as in many other +professions, may be because they pay so much attention to their own +dress. It is an astonishing fact to record that Miss Linderham sent out +for a French hairdresser, who was a most expensive man, and whom she +generally called in only when some very important function was about to +take place. + +"I want you," she said, "to dress my hair in an artistic way, and yet +in a manner that it will seem as if no particular trouble had been +taken. Do you understand me?" + +"Ah, perfectly, mademoiselle," said the polite Frenchman. "You shall be +so fascinating, mademoiselle, that----" + +"Yes," said Miss Linderham, "that is what I want." + +At three o'clock she had on a dainty gown. The sleeves were turned up, +as if she were ready for the most serious work. The spotless pinafore +which covered this dress had the most fetching little frill around it; +all in all, it was doubtful if any studio in London, even one belonging +to the most celebrated painter, had in it as pretty a picture as Miss +Maggie Linderham was that afternoon. At three o'clock there came a ring +at the telephone, and when Miss Linderham answered the call, the voice +which she had heard before said-- + +"I am very sorry to disappoint you, madam, but Lord Stansford resigned +this afternoon. We could send you another man if you liked to have him." + +"No, no!" cried Miss Linderham; and the man at the other end of the +telephone actually thought she was weeping. + +"No, I don't want any one else. It doesn't really matter." + +"The other man," replied the voice, "would be only two guineas, and it +was five for Lord Stansford. We could send you a man for a guinea, +although we don't recommend him." + +"No," said Miss Linderham, "I don't want anybody. I am glad Lord +Stansford is not coming, as the little party I proposed to give, has +been postponed." + +"Ah, then, when it does come off, madam, I hope----" + +But Miss Linderham hung up the receiver, and did not listen to the +recommendations the man was sending over the wire about his hired +guests. The chances are that Maggie Linderham would have cried had it +not been that her hair was so nicely, yet carelessly, done; but before +she had time to make up her mind what to do, the trim little maid came +along the gallery and down the steps into the studio, with a silver +salver in her hand, and on it a card, which she handed to Miss +Linderham, who picked up the card and read, "Richard Stansford." + +"Oh," she cried joyfully, "ask him to come here." + +"Won't you see him in the drawing-room, miss?" + +"No, no; tell him I am very busy, and bring him to the studio." + +The maid went up the stair again. Miss Linderham, taking one long, +careful glance at herself, looking over her shoulder in the tall +mirror, and not caring to touch her wealth of hair, picked up her +crayon and began making the sketch of the striking man even worse than +it was before. She did not look round until she heard Lord Stansford's +step on the stair, then she gave an exclamation of surprise on seeing +him. The young man was dressed in a wide-awake hat, and the costume +which we see in the illustrated papers as picturing our friends in +South Africa. All he needed was a belt of cartridges and a rifle to +make the picture complete. + +"This is hardly the dress a man is supposed to wear in London when he +makes an afternoon call on a lady, Miss Linderham," said the young man, +with a laugh, "but I had either to come this way or not at all, for my +time is very limited. I thought it was too bad to leave the country +without giving you an opportunity to apologise for your conduct last +night, and for the additional insult of hiring me for two hours this +afternoon. And so, you see, I came." + +"I am very glad you did," replied Miss Linderham. "I was much +disappointed when they telephoned me this afternoon that you had +resigned. I must say that you look exceedingly well in that outfit, +Lord Stansford." + +"Yes," said the young man, casting a glance over himself; "I am +compelled to admit that it is rather becoming. I have had the pleasure +of attracting a good deal of attention as I came along the street." + +"They took you for a cowboy, I suppose?" + +"Well, something of that sort. The small boy, I regret to say, was so +unfeeling as to sing 'He's got 'em on,' and other ribald ditties of +that kind, which they seemed to think suited the occasion. But others +looked at me with great respect, which compensated for the +disadvantages. Will you pardon the rudeness of a pioneer, Miss +Linderham, when I say that you look even more charming in the studio +dress than you did in ball costume, and I never thought that could be +possible?" + +"Oh," cried the girl, flushing, perhaps, because the crimson paint on +the palette she had picked up reflected on her cheek. "You must excuse +this working garb, as I did not expect visitors. You see, they +telephoned me that you were not coming." + +The deluded young man actually thought this statement was correct, +which in part it was, and he believed also that the luxuriant hair +tossed up here and there with seeming carelessness was not the result +of an art far superior to any the girl herself had ever put upon +canvas. + +"So you are off to South Africa?" she said. + +"Yes, the Cape." + +"Oh, is the Cape in South Africa?" + +"Well, I think so," replied the young man, somewhat dubiously, "but I +wouldn't be certain about it, though the steamship company guarantee to +land me at the Cape, wherever it is." + +The girl laughed. + +"You must have given it a great deal of thought," she said, "when you +don't really know where you are going." + +"Oh, I have a better idea of direction than you give me credit for. I +am not such a fool as I looked last night, you know; then I belonged to +Spink and Company, and was sublet by them to old Heckle; now I belong +to myself and South Africa. That makes a world of difference, you +know." + +"I see it does," replied Miss Linderham. "Won't you sit down?" + +The girl herself sank into an armchair, while Stansford sat on a low +table, swinging one foot to and fro, his wide-brimmed hat thrown back, +and gazed at the girl until she reddened more than ever. Neither spoke +for some moments. + +"Do you know," said Stansford at last, "that when I look at you South +Africa seems a long distance away!" + +"I thought it was a long distance away," said the girl, without looking +up. + +"Yes; but it's longer and more lonely when one looks at you. By Jove, +if I thought I couldn't do better, I would be tempted to take that two +thousand a year offer of yours and----" + +"It wasn't an offer of mine," cried the girl hastily. "Perhaps the lady +I was thinking of wouldn't have agreed to it, even if I had spoken to +her about it." + +"That is quite true; still, I think if she had seen me in this outfit +she would have thought me worth the money." + +"You think you can make more than two thousand a year out in South +Africa? You have become very hopeful all in a moment. It seems to me +that a man who thinks he can make two thousand a year is very foolish +to let himself out at two guineas an evening." + +"Do you know, Miss Linderham, that was just what I thought myself, and +I told the respectable Spink so, too. I told him I had had an offer of +two thousand a year in his own line of business. He said that no firm +in London could afford the money. 'Why,' he cried, waxing angry, 'I +could get a Duke for that.'" + +"'Well,' I replied, 'it is purely a matter of business with me. I was +offered two thousand pounds a year as ornamental man by a most charming +young lady, who has a studio in South Kensington, and who is herself, +when dressed up as an artist, prettier than any picture that ever +entered the Royal Academy'; that's what I told Spink." + +The girl looked up at him, first with indignation in her eyes, and then +with a smile hovering about her pretty lips. + +"You said nothing of the sort," she answered, "for you knew nothing +about this studio at that time, so you see I am not going to emulate +your dishonesty by pretending not to know you are referring to me." + +"My dishonesty!" exclaimed the young man, with protest in his voice. "I +am the most honest, straightforward person alive, and I believe I would +take your two thousand a year offer if I didn't think I could do +better." + +"Where, in South Africa?" + +"No, in South Kensington. I think that when the lady learns how useful +I could be around a studio--oh, I could learn to wash brushes, sweep +out the room, prepare canvases, light the fire; and how nicely I could +hand around cups of tea when she had her 'At Homes,' and exhibited her +pictures! When she realises this, and sees what a bargain she is +getting, I feel almost certain she will not make any terms at all." + +The young man sprang from the table, and the girl rose from her chair, +a look almost of alarm in her face. He caught her by the arms. + +"What do you think, Miss Linderham? You know the lady. Don't you think +she would refuse to have anything to do with a cad like Billy Heckle, +rich as he is, and would prefer a humble, hard-working farmer from the +Cape?" + +The girl did not answer his question. + +"Are you going to break my arms as you threatened to do his wrists last +night?" + +"Maggie," he whispered, in a low voice, with an intense ring in it, "I +am going to break nothing but my own heart if you refuse me." + +The girl looked up at him with a smile. + +"I knew when you came in you weren't going to South Africa, Dick," was +all she said; and he, taking advantage of her helplessness, kissed her. + + + + +PURIFICATION. + + +Eugène Caspilier sat at one of the metal tables of the Café Égalité, +allowing the water from the carafe to filter slowly through a lump of +sugar and a perforated spoon into his glass of absinthe. It was not an +expression of discontent that was to be seen on the face of Caspilier, +but rather a fleeting shade of unhappiness which showed he was a man to +whom the world was being unkind. On the opposite side of the little +round table sat his friend and sympathising companion, Henri Lacour. He +sipped his absinthe slowly, as absinthe should be sipped, and it was +evident that he was deeply concerned with the problem that confronted +his comrade. + +"Why, in Heaven's name, did you marry her? That, surely, was not +necessary." + +Eugène shrugged his shoulders. The shrug said plainly, "Why, indeed? +Ask me an easier one." + +For some moments there was silence between the two. Absinthe is not a +liquor to be drunk hastily, or even to be talked over too much in the +drinking. Henri did not seem to expect any other reply than the +expressive shrug, and each man consumed his beverage dreamily, while +the absinthe, in return for this thoughtful consideration, spread over +them its benign influence, gradually lifting from their minds all care +and worry, dispersing the mental clouds that hover over all men at +times, thinning the fog until it disappeared, rather than rolling the +vapour away, as the warm sun dissipates into invisibility the opaque +morning mists, leaving nothing but clear air, all round, and a blue sky +overhead. + +"A man must live," said Caspilier at last; "and the profession of +decadent poet is not a lucrative one. Of course there is undying fame +in the future, but then we must have our absinthe in the present. Why +did I marry her, you ask? I was the victim of my environment. I must +write poetry; to write poetry, I must live; to live, I must have money; +to get money, I was forced to marry. Valdorême is one of the best +pastry-cooks in Paris; is it my fault, then, that the Parisians have a +greater love for pastry than for poetry? Am I to blame that her wares +are more sought for at her shop than are mine at the booksellers'? I +would willingly have shared the income of the shop with her without the +folly of marriage, but Valdorême has strange, barbaric notions which +were not overturnable by civilised reason. Still my action was not +wholly mercenary, nor indeed mainly so. There was a rhythm about her +name that pleased me. Then she is a Russian, and my country and hers +were at that moment in each other's arms, so I proposed to Valdorême +that we follow the national example. But, alas! Henri, my friend, I +find that even ten years' residence in Paris will not eliminate the +savage from the nature of a Russian. In spite of the name that sounds +like the soft flow of a rich mellow wine, my wife is little better than +a barbarian. When I told her about Tenise, she acted like a mad woman-- +drove me into the streets." + +"But why did you tell her about Tenise?" + +"_Pourquoi?_ How I hate that word! Why! Why!! Why!!! It dogs one's +actions like a bloodhound, eternally yelping for a reason. It seems to +me that a11 my life I have had to account to an inquiring why. I don't +know why I told her; it did not appear to be a matter requiring any +thought or consideration. I spoke merely because Tenise came into my +mind at the moment. But after that, the deluge; I shudder when I think +of it." + +"Again the why?" said the poet's friend. "Why not cease to think of +conciliating your wife? Russians are unreasoning aborigines. Why not +take up life in a simple poetic way with Tenise, and avoid the Rue de +Russie altogether?" + +Caspilier sighed gently. Here fate struck him hard. "Alas! my friend, +it is impossible. Tenise is an artist's model, and those brutes of +painters who get such prices for their daubs, pay her so little each +week that her wages would hardly keep me in food and drink. My paper, +pens, and ink I can get at the cafés, but how am I to clothe myself? If +Valdorême would but make us a small allowance, we could be so happy. +Valdorême is madame, as I have so often told her, and she owes me +something for that; but she actually thinks that because a man is +married he should come dutifully home like a bourgeois grocer. She has +no poetry, no sense of the needs of a literary man, in her nature." + +Lacour sorrowfully admitted that the situation had its embarrassments. +The first glass of absinthe did not show clearly how they were to be +met, but the second brought bravery with it, and he nobly offered to +beard the Russian lioness in her den, explain the view Paris took of +her unjustifiable conduct, and, if possible, bring her to reason. + +Caspilier's emotion overcame him, and he wept silently, while his +friend, in eloquent language, told how famous authors, whose names were +France's proudest possession, had been forgiven by their wives for +slight lapses from strict domesticity, and these instances, he said, he +would recount to Madame Valdorême, and so induce her to follow such +illustrious examples. + +The two comrades embraced and separated; the friend to use his +influence and powers of persuasion with Valdorême; the husband to tell +Tenise how blessed they were in having such a friend to intercede for +them; for Tenise, bright little Parisienne that she was, bore no malice +against the unreasonable wife of her lover. + +Henri Lacour paused opposite the pastry-shop on the Rue de Russie that +bore the name of "Valdorême" over the temptingly filled windows. Madame +Caspilier had not changed the title of her well-known shop when she +gave up her own name. Lacour caught sight of her serving her customers, +and he thought she looked more like a Russian princess than a +shopkeeper. He wondered now at the preference of his friend for the +petite black-haired model. Valdorême did not seem more than twenty; she +was large, and strikingly handsome, with abundant auburn hair that was +almost red. Her beautifully moulded chin denoted perhaps too much +firmness, and was in striking contrast to the weakness of her husband's +lower face. Lacour almost trembled as she seemed to flash one look +directly at him, and, for a moment, he feared she had seen him +loitering before the window. Her eyes were large, of a limpid amber +colour, but deep within them smouldered a fire that Lacour felt he +would not care to see blaze up. His task now wore a different aspect +from what it had worn in front of the Café Égalité. Hesitating a +moment, he passed the shop, and, stopping at a neighbouring café, +ordered another glass of absinthe. It is astonishing how rapidly the +genial influence of this stimulant departs! + +Fortified once again, he resolved to act before his courage had time to +evaporate, and so, goading himself on with the thought that no man +should be afraid to meet any woman, be she Russian or civilised, he +entered the shop, making his most polite bow to Madame Caspilier. + +"I have come, madame," he began, "as the friend of your husband, to +talk with you regarding his affairs." + +"Ah!" said Valdorême; and Henri saw with dismay the fires deep down in +her eyes rekindle. But she merely gave some instructions to an +assistant, and, turning to Lacour, asked him to be so good as to follow +her. + +She led him through the shop and up a stair at the back, throwing open +a door on the first floor. Lacour entered a neat drawing-room, with +windows opening out upon the street. Madame Caspilier seated herself at +a table, resting her elbow upon it, shading her eyes with her hand, and +yet Lacour felt them searching his very soul. + +"Sit down," she said. "You are my husband's friend. What have you to +say?" + +Now, it is a difficult thing for a man to tell a beautiful woman that +her husband--for the moment--prefers some one else, so Lacour began on +generalities. He said a poet might be likened to a butterfly, or +perhaps to the more industrious bee, who sipped honey from every +flower, and so enriched the world. A poet was a law unto himself, and +should not be judged harshly from what might be termed a shopkeeping +point of view. Then Lacour, warming to his work, gave many instances +where the wives of great men had condoned and even encouraged their +husbands' little idiosyncrasies, to the great augmenting of our most +valued literature. + +Now and then, as this eloquent man talked, Valdorême's eyes seemed to +flame dangerously in the shadow, but the woman neither moved nor +interrupted him while he spoke. When he had finished, her voice sounded +cold and unimpassioned, and he felt with relief that the outbreak he +had feared was at least postponed. + +"You would advise me then," she began, "to do as the wife of that great +novelist did, and invite my husband and the woman he admires to my +table?" + +"Oh, I don't say I could ask you to go so far as that," said Lacour; +"but----" + +"I'm no halfway woman. It is all or nothing with me. If I invited my +husband to dine with me, I would also invite this creature--What is her +name? Tenise, you say. Well, I would invite her too. Does she know he +is a married man?" + +"Yes," cried Lacour eagerly; "but I assure you, madame, she has nothing +but the kindliest feelings towards you. There is no jealousy about +Tenise." + +"How good of her! How very good of her!" said the Russian woman, with +such bitterness that Lacour fancied uneasily that he had somehow made +an injudicious remark, whereas all his efforts were concentrated in a +desire to conciliate and please. + +"Very well," said Valdorême, rising. "You may tell my husband that you +have been successful in your mission. Tell him that I will provide for +them both. Ask them to honour me with their presence at breakfast to- +morrow morning at twelve o'clock. If he wants money, as you say, here +are two hundred francs, which will perhaps be sufficient for his wants +until midday to-morrow." + +Lacour thanked her with a profuse graciousness that would have +delighted any ordinary giver, but Valdorême stood impassive like a +tragedy queen, and seemed only anxious that he should speedily take his +departure, now that his errand was done. + +The heart of the poet was filled with joy when he heard from his friend +that at last Valdorême had come to regard his union with Tenise in the +light of reason. Caspilier, as he embraced Lacour, admitted that +perhaps there was something to be said for his wife after all. + +The poet dressed himself with more than usual care on the day of the +feast, and Tenise, who accompanied him, put on some of the finery that +had been bought with Valdorême's donation. She confessed that she +thought Eugène's wife had acted with consideration towards them, but +maintained that she did not wish to meet her, for, judging from +Caspilier's account, his wife must be a somewhat formidable and +terrifying person; still she went with him, she said, solely through +good nature, and a desire to heal family differences. Tenise would do +anything in the cause of domestic peace. + +The shop assistant told the pair, when they had dismissed the cab, that +madame was waiting for them upstairs. In the drawing-room Valdorême was +standing with her back to the window like a low-browed goddess, her +tawny hair loose over her shoulders, and the pallor of her face made +more conspicuous by her costume of unrelieved black. Caspilier, with +the grace characteristic of him, swept off his hat, and made a low, +deferential bow; but when he straightened himself up, and began to say +the complimentary things and poetical phrases he had put together for +the occasion at the café the night before, the lurid look of the +Russian made his tongue falter; and Tenise, who had never seen a woman +of this sort before, laughed a nervous, half-frightened little laugh, +and clung closer to her lover than before. The wife was even more +forbidding than she had imagined. Valdorême shuddered slightly when she +saw this intimate movement on the part of her rival, and her hand +clenched and unclenched convulsively. + +"Come," she said, cutting short her husband's halting harangue, and +sweeping past them, drawing her skirts aside on nearing Tenise, she led +the way up to the dining-room a floor higher. + +"I'm afraid of her," whimpered Tenise, holding back. "She will poison +us." + +"Nonsense," said Caspilier, in a whisper. "Come along. She is too fond +of me to attempt anything of that kind, and you are safe when I am +here." + +Valdorême sat at the head of the table, with her husband at her right +hand and Tenise on her left. The breakfast was the best either of them +had ever tasted. The hostess sat silent, but no second talker was +needed when the poet was present. Tenise laughed merrily now and then +at his bright sayings, for the excellence of the meal had banished her +fears of poison. + +"What penetrating smell is this that fills the room? Better open the +window," said Caspilier. + +"It is nothing," replied Valdorême, speaking for the first time since +they had sat down. "It is only naphtha. I have had this room cleaned +with it. The window won't open, and if it would, we could not hear you +talk with the noise from the street." + +The poet would suffer anything rather than have his eloquence +interfered with, so he said no more about the fumes of naphtha. When +the coffee was brought in, Valdorême dismissed the trim little maid who +had waited on them. + +"I have some of your favourite cigarettes here. I will get them." + +She arose, and, as she went to the table on which the boxes lay, she +quietly and deftly locked the door, and, pulling out the key, slipped +it into her pocket. + +"Do you smoke, mademoiselle?" she asked, speaking to Tenise. She had +not recognised her presence before. + +"Sometimes, madame," answered the girl, with a titter. + +"You will find these cigarettes excellent. My husband's taste in +cigarettes is better than in many things. He prefers the Russian to the +French." + +Caspilier laughed loudly. + +"That's a slap at you, Tenise," he said. + +"At me? Not so; she speaks of cigarettes, and I myself prefer the +Russian, only they are so expensive." + +A look of strange eagerness came into Valdorême's expressive face, +softened by a touch of supplication. Her eyes were on her husband, but +she said rapidly to the girl----" + +"Stop a moment, mademoiselle. Do not light your cigarette until I give +the word." + +Then to her husband she spoke beseechingly in Russian, a language she +had taught him in the early months of their marriage. + +"Eugenio, Eugenio! Don't you see the girl's a fool? How can you care +for her? She would be as happy with the first man she met in the +street. I--I think only of you. Come back to me, Eugenio." + +She leaned over the table towards him, and in her vehemence clasped his +wrist. The girl watched them both with a smile. It reminded her of a +scene in an opera she had heard once in a strange language. The prima +donna had looked and pleaded like Valdorême. + +Caspilier shrugged his shoulders, but did not withdraw his wrist from +her firm grasp. + +"Why go over the whole weary ground again?" he said. "If it were not +Tenise, it would be somebody else. I was never meant for a constant +husband, Val. I understood from Lacour that we were to have no more of +this nonsense." + +She slowly relaxed her hold on his unresisting wrist. The old, hard, +tragic look came into her face as she drew a deep breath. The fire in +the depths of her amber eyes rekindled, as the softness went out of +them. + +"You may light your cigarette now, mademoiselle," she said almost in a +whisper to Tenise. + +"I swear I could light mine in your eyes, Val.," cried her husband. +"You would make a name for yourself on the stage. I will write a +tragedy for you, and we will----" + +Tenise struck the match. A simultaneous flash of lightning and clap of +thunder filled the room. The glass in the window fell clattering into +the street. Valdorême was standing with her back against the door. +Tenise, fluttering her helpless little hands before her, tottered +shrieking to the broken window. Caspilier, staggering panting to his +feet, gasped-- + +"You Russian devil! The key, the key!" + +He tried to clutch her throat, but she pushed him back. + +"Go to your Frenchwoman. She's calling for help." + +Tenise sank by the window, one burning arm over the sill, and was +silent. Caspilier, mechanically beating back the fire from his shaking +head, whimpering and sobbing, fell against the table, and then went +headlong on the floor. + +Valdorême, a pillar, of fire, swaying gently to and fro before the +door, whispered in a voice of agony-- + +"Oh, Eugene, Eugene!" and flung herself like a flaming angel--or fiend +--on the prostrate form of the man. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REVENGE!*** + + +******* This file should be named 8668-8.txt or 8668-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/8/6/6/8668 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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