SHORT STORY.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 661, 10 February 1909, Page 7

SHORT STORY.

BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] DICK ENGLAND'S "DOUBLE." A Ho.r.ance of an Old Song. "Ahem ! Mr. Cardonald, permit me to return your cjieque tor tnree thousand pounas—cushJUnoured I Fully two hours since the head of the nrm had entered nis private room witn that slow step and unseeing stare —signs lending .coiour to those vague City rumours. Sitting motionless there still, he had realised nothing external til' that hand closed upon his shoulder. He shuddered, staring round as if he tdougnt all the world must have heard. "No—no! Who has —who dares to breathe such a word against me, here! ' "Blot it out." The shadow of a smile was on Franklyn Hyde's cold, dark, foreign-looking face. He turned away, to hide it. "Some monstrous mistake, of course, that a stroke of your pen puts right. Believe me! If 1 have unwittingly revealed that your banking account is already overdrawn " "Silence I" He stood stiff, that sick stare seeming to pierce the walls and focus the Cit£ s opinion outside. "It's the act of an enemy, wearing a mask," he whspered. "That cheque was not to be negotiated yet. You would show it simply to reassure an alleged credit of your own; " "Granted I" He wheeled round, with a sneer. "But the most lamblike caution justified me in making sure of the cash, did 1 require it. Incidentally, I do—here and now !*' "I've been blind—blind!" came th-* whisper. "Till I could realise some assets, there was a sword hanging over me—and Franklyn Hyde means to let it fall. Yes! You pressed these loans upon me; you mastered the liuctuatmg phases of my business; you have worked and waited for this moment. One hint of this, and my creditors close in and crush me. Hyde, look me in the face. Why have you done this? There's some deep answer I"

"I regret," was the cold reply, "if my business atrairs do not dovetail with yours. On the principle that the man who cannot pay to-day cannot pay tomorrow, I await your—er—inspiration. There generally is one—if we look deep enough." "There is none! Press this cheque, and lam ruined. I might survive it; but that dear, motherless girl of mine, who talks and thinks proudly of her dad as a man haioed by the respect of ali the City " It trailed off. He sank back. How long was it before he found himself iMJMBg up into the dark sinister face •9-that dull tingle of fascination: In the blading eyes, so close, the light of a revelation flickered. "She may! You 'iave framed the inspiration in thosf words; you have gircu me my life chance. Dear? Ay, dearer to one other man. perhaps, than life itself. Realise that. Act upon it!" "You? You and my Lettie?" his lips moved. "Now the light comes. You wanted her, and Dick England was in the way. You will hold your hand this day—if I place my Lettie's within it. as the price I" "Stage talk! ' came down Hyde's blasting sneer. "I loved her frem the first, and you knew it. Because I was dark and reserved, and Dick England fair, with a singing voice and his heart tacked on his coat-sleeve, you gave him your casting vote. Own that!" "No—no! I left it all to her woman's intuition. Your own mad jealousy baulked you. Dick! If he but knew, he would make any sacrifice to see me " "Listen! Could he do more than this? Promise me Lettie. and I tear to pieces a cheque for all you owe me this day. Think—think what it means to you and to her! Dick England ! a struggling tenor, who wants your girl—because she is heiress to your mythical thousands! Stabbing my own old friend? Bah! Simple business threw us together; he was the singer and composer, and I the musical inventor. No matter, it is for you to decide between us!" I "And break her heart, perhaps, to save me paying the price of my own folly—no, never! If he's worth the love of a girl like my Lettie, he shall have her. He has shown it, by keeping silence until now, because his position " "What I You mean—she has not yet answered him?" And old Cardonald struggled up. as if just realising. "Don't tempt me," he whispered. "You knew it ali. He has been begging my consent to speak, but I was too worried. He comes to-night for his answer. Ay, you tuned your blow well!" "Then—then you save the situation by a mere courteous snub to-night! And she will act —must act —as you wish, for the sake of all! Think before you sav that final word '"

En that dead pause while the shuttle of Fate went swiftly, silentlv to and fro. something happened. The clerks beyond were conscious of a little thrill, as the main door opened and that slight, queenly fijjun- ir grev. with the sweet lips and smiiiveyes, bowed to them and swept like a breath of scented summer wind straight toward the inner office. No one stirred. It happened about ono a month that Cardonald's daughter came in a cab with some pretence of a message, but reallv to realise his commercial greatness, and to put some loving finishing touch to his prosaic •tanctum. Besides, the caller alreadv there was a friend of the family. A dim corridor parted the She passed the fir-t swing door, and then drew back, hj r breath caught, the smile dying out of her eyes. Muffled, vet' distinct, a voice that she knew well came through. "Enough! You are ruined, disgraced, you say. if I use this cheque of yours. I reply; K ive me Lettie. the one woman I ever wanted, and vou are saved : our marriage certificate VanceK your debts. . . . You must! I give you twenty-four hours to withdraw that mad decision. To-nijrht you will give an irrevocable 'No' to this Dick England. If not. bv noon to-morrow, every breath of air -=hal! carry the news that Felix Cardonald has been running a great and thriving business—on paper !" Hands clenched, his fare set Hk« stone, Hyde strode out. He was not

to see the motionless figure drawn back in the shadow there; heard nothing of the little moan that died down the quiet corridor. Gone ! In the inner room old Cardonald stood, the hand pressed to his eyes, his voice a sob. "Gone! To-morrow! My Lettie to stand between me and utter ruin ! No, no—she never shall '." "She will!" came a steady whisper. A soft arm was around his neck. It held his face fixed; he could not see hers. "She will! It is done!. . . Dick is to speak to you—this very night. 1 need not be there. I miHit —I might have promised to be his wife, and then my first thought must have been for him. Now, 1 must forget. Hush ! Mr. Hyde wants me, you hear. To save you, to keep you from such shame and agony as that. I ought to live the lie —and I will!"'

"It's never Hyde!" Humming the tune so often on his lips—it was "My Svveethtart when a boy"—Dick England sprang from his composing table, a hand outstretched, his eyes lit warm ly. "If I'd only known ! Here, I've to dress and rush off to sing by 3.30, and then, to-night, I've to be off somewhere again." "Another concert to-night?" Hyde stared past, mastering the surge of blackest impulses. This other man, taken by surpise looked so boyishly handsome, so thrillingly confident. "Oh. I see. calling at Cardonald's place. Quite naturally! Almost time a certain romantic event was announced in the papers, eh ?" "Well." he laughed, "strictly speaking, no such dream is realised even privately yet. Of course " A pause. His sensitive face had flushed slightly. Vet Hvde looked curiously unconcerned. On a characteristic impulse, England put out his hand again. His voice shook a little. "Hvde, old fellow, wish me lurk there! I'd prize it so, coming from you. I may know my fate to-night. 1 haven't felt justified in speaking out before —not even to her! He's ri< hj and prosperous. . . . never mind, then. It needn't come between us al-. together. Good-bye. old fellow—-good-bye I" Why had he called here ? Teeth set. his dark face masking passion too deep to betray itself, Franklyn Hyde went out. Nis own rooms were away at Hampstead, close to Mr. Cardonald's own semi-rural residence; he had taken them sonic time ago, to watch the woman he wanted. To lose her foi ever, after ail that subtle scheming? No!

That velvety dusk had just fallen as he rang the bell at Mr. Cardonald's house. Cranford, who was butler, footman, and valet in one. answered. "Miss Lettie? Taken the carriage and the. maid. Mr. Hyde, and gone out for the evening. Yes, Mr. Cardonald is out, too —everyone is out, I believe. No, I'm forgetting—Master said, if Mr. England called as usuvtl, I was to ask him to wait in the private sitting room, he wouldn't be long. He seems rather strange and worried of late. sir," Cranford addid, with the quiet confidence of one privileged to know all. "You'll call later? Verv good. Mr. Hyde!"

She had gone out for the evening! Strange: unlike a woman! As if deeply chagrined, or suspicious, Hvde waited in the shadow of some trees. watching the windows. He saw Mr. Cardonald pass down the path with a haggard face, and admit himself with his key. Almost simultaneously, that light shot up in the rear. Tiptoeing across the lawn, Hyde peered through into the private sitting-room. Yes, old Cardonald had thrown open the French windows, and sat at the table there, his eyes covered—waiting. "Waiting to confess to dear Dick

that he's a ruined man —and to tone down the shock by giving him his daughter!" Hyde muttered, as he drew away and turned to look back at the silent house.

Quite two hours had ticked by when Cranford rather sleepily answered that bell again. Yes, his master had been in a long time; he would knock, and There Cranford paused, staring. From the closed sitting-room at the end of that rear passage had come music and voice as from afar. A man singing, richly, carelessly, as he struck the piano keys—"My Sweetheart when a Bov!"

"What, is he here still?" Hyde had drawn back as if struck. "Then, pray, don't disturb them, I'd prefer to wait outside the house!" "I had no idea of it." Cranford drew breath after the fascination of that old song in the silence. All was quiet again now. ✓ "He must have gone in from the lawn. You'll walkup and down, sir? But you're not looking at all well, Mr. Hyde—pardon me!"

Hyde moved away. How long had he been pacing the quiet roadway before that broken, never-to-be-forgotten shout went through his brain? "Mur dcr! murder!" He had shuddered to a standstill. He saw running heard a constable's whistle; but it seemed minutes before he found him self watching a spellbound group through that rear window. "Dead —murdered!" It was Cran-

ford's sunken voice. "It was all so quiet. I came in—and found him lying here, quite still. No one with him. YYhy, yes, it was " He rose slowly. He was pointing at a breathless figure that had just panted across the lawn and into the room.

"Mr. England! You were with him here, not half an hour back. Look!" "I —here?" He panted it, standing in nameless awe. "Dead ?—Lcttie's father! What can you mean ? I have just reached the house. Where is Miss Cardonald ? She wrote me a note; I was to meet her at the Marble Arch instead, as she had bad news. Heavens, you don't say : ' "I say that you were here !" Cranford choked. "I must! We heard you singing at the <ild piano here. Here's Mr. Hyde-—he heard it—ask him; ask the kitchen maid ! Not for me to accuse, but. . . . 11\isii ! The carriage—it's Miss Leltie come home. Lower those lights! Who'll break it to her? Mr. Hyde, will you?' ; Bv next morning two whispers were thrilling through Hampstead. Miss Cardonald. they said, knew nothing of a note that bade Dick England rwet her miles away: but she had known that he was to discuss a vital mattei with her father in that private sitting room.

The newspapers addod two fa< ts. Mr. Cardonald was not dead ; his life hung by a thread. And Richard England, the rising tenor, had allowed himself to be arrested on suspicion without a word. » * * A hot crowded court, hushed with ir.ysterv. In th~ dock, that motion less, defiant man. who. hearing nothing, carintr nothing had not vet turned his haggard face from that «till woman who sat in the shadow over there, her hands strained together. Tragedy's own wan

fingers seeming to deepen those hollows beneath her eyes. No snapping yet of the awful tension. Weeks must elapse before the injured man could face the accused in that court. Another formal remand on bail! Dick England could step out into God's sunlight again—with that black cloud of suspicion following close as his own shadow. All ovei no, what was that buzzing and craning ? What were they saying ? Prisoners counsel was upon his feet. ilis clear, challenging voice had swelled with electrical effect. He had opposed the remand. He was imploring, demanding, that the evidence should be proved here and now. He had asked that the doors of the court might be closed. lie had pledged his professional reputation that the unusual course should stand justified wiihin fifteen minutes !

"Here is a man. charged with a terrible crime. He can go free, in a sense, from this court, but the mark is upon him, for all his world to see. If guilt spell mental agony, what of the consciousness of innocence ? A singer, of widening fame, how can he face his audiences to-day ? The golden gift of his voice is useless; his career is checked. And why ? "What is this gossamer evidence? Granted, he was to have interviewed the victim that night upon an intimate matter involving grave human issues. I must not ask vet —who forged the note which took him elsewhere upon a blind errand ? That night, conceivably, just prior to the outrage, he was heard singing in that very room. Singing! A song that we all know and love, that he has sung to hushed audiences scores of times, in a voice sworn to by three persons who could make no mistake—'My Sweetheart when a Boy ! : " "Three persons ! A kitchen-maid ; Cranford, the valet; and Mr. Franklyn Hyde,, who chanced to call at that moment. Tliey inferred, naturally, that Mr. Cardonald having left the room a moment, his visitor sat clown at the piano there and- accompanied himself from force of habit. They heard it ! "The sole evidence ! Our alibi must wait. One vital question remains, lias the prisoner a 'double?' We shall sec !" Dramatic silence. Even that whitefaced girl had looked up. her-lips parted. Counsel had been writing a note. pnd seemed to be waiting consent to some unusual step. Would it be granted ? Yes! Now he was hurrying with an inspector into a side room. Cranford. the valet, had been plated once more in the witness box. What was to happen ? That pause! Then, through the strained silence, from that side room there came the sound of a tenor voice, with piano accompaniment 'My .Sweetheart when a Boy!' Rich. haunting, muffled only by the closed door, it held them spellbound—the voice of Dick England." And then they lealised that, counsel had re-appeared, and had put his ciuestion.

"Was that the voice you heard on the night of the crime ? Will vou swear to it?" "1 do—l swear it !" Cranford had gasped in awe. "It's Mr. England's voice, the world over!" "Yes ! Mr. England's voice, that will soon be known the world over! Open that door; show the court how he sang his song that night—while miles away from the scene. Stand back there! Wav for Mr. England's 'double!' ... A costly,

delicate toy. A wonderful product of genius. Just a phonographic instrument, improved almost to perfection .by its clever possessor ! No false vibrato, no nasal twang, in this specimen ; you have heard it reproduce in original purity the voice and song of the man who stands silent there. And this almost human medium, now so dumb and innocent-looking, I traced only last night to the rooms occupied by Pardon, Mr. Franklyn Hyde! In the .words used by the witness Cranford that night. "You arc not looking at all well, Mr. Hyde!" The gasp from a hundred throats, the moan from some then that man's figure had swayed up. He had faced the pointing finger, his eyes aflame/, his husky, sneering- shout refusing to be silenced. "In my rooms! Arrest me; I can pay the price twice over ! Curse him. he had won her away from me. Ay, he had sung into my phonograph, and i ;rgotten it. I remembered, at that moment when the shadow of the rope came so near me ! It was my forged letter that had lured him away. It was I who entered by the lawn window, alid asked again for that daughter in marriage. I was mad; mad as you see me now. My last hope crushed, I struck out with something heavy. And no one heard; all was as silent as now! ... It came with

a flash —the thought that her Dick would have to prove an alibi! To slip away to my rooms, and back again with the phonograph in its case; to place it behind a curtain —all child's play— all the work of a few minutes! I allowed for every contingency; my brain had never been so crystal clear. 1 set the cylinders going; the pianoforte prelude allowed me just the twenty seconds. Just as Cranford answered my ring, the voice down there pealed out —so natural, so unpremediated, so unmistakeably melodious — •My Sweetheart when a Boy !' Later, I got the thing away in the confusion, and all was over! I threw my whole stake, and have lost. He has won. And now they'll marry, and be happy and '! The mad shout broke off. He was swaying. A hand had gone to his pocket; something bright flashed up and shook at his forehead —a revolver lust in time a constable snatched the weapon and gripped the man. Through that last never-forgotten hush of realisation, a voice came brokenly from the dock. They saw Dick England with arms stretched out; thev caught the thrilling word — "Lettie!" And all the world knows how- she answered him.

Stranger—"My friend, whv are vou swearine so?" Cussitv— "Whv? Because of a blank fool of a doctor. I gol some pills for a pain in my back, and the directions read. 'Take one a half-hour before you feel the pain coming on.' " Maria "What's the matter. Tohn Henry: vou look depressed?" |ohn Henry—"lt'- all right, my dear. T met Brown coming alone - , and lie told me some more of what his little boy had said, and T killer) him." Maria—"O. well, cheer up. and come and have some tea." Ethel "Maude has been trying to learn how to pla v golf for ouite four weeks now." Penelope—"ls her instructor stupid?" Ethel—"No, hand some."