Short Story

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 1073, 28 March 1917, Page 7

Short Story

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

Two Christmas Eves,

By J. J. BELL.

Continued from las* .aek. "Lockyer! What do you think of this? I've heard from Dennison at last!" "Dennison? Who is—Oh, you mean I the thief." ■V. The other winced. "Let that be forgotten. I always believed he would redeem himself." "Has he written to say so?" "He has returned the firm's mone\ and the money that I gave him—wit interest!" cried Marlow in a tone triumph. "Now what have vou to say?' r Lockyer gave his shoulders a shrug. Let us hope he came by it honestly/' he said coolly. "Does he mention its source?" Marlow made a movement as if he

had bees stung. "Confound you!" h< exclaimed, "are you as devoid of jus ' tice as you were of mercy? Won't you give Dennison any credit at all?' "If you wish me to do so, I'll set that he gets credit in the books against the record of his defalcations. ,: The older man drew in his breath. He restrained himself with difficulty! At last he said:—"Lockyer, if Dennison were to enter this room now, what would you do?" "Give him a receipt for the monev." "Nothing else?" "What else should I give him?" "Your hand, your goodwill " "Oh, rot, Marlow 1 It isn't Christmas Eve, you know I" Marlow's countenance flushed red and pale. "Lockyer," he said passionately, 'you're a fool—a heartless fool!" Which was scarcely the criticism expected by the junior partner. Six months later came the split. There was no quarrel. Marlow mddh declared that he bad had enough of non-speculative, humdrum business. He would retire, and spend the next few years of his leisure in seeing the world. Lockyer did his best to conceal his gratification at the prospect of running the business alone under the old name, but by no' means on the old lines. They parted on quite amicable terms. They would in all probability not meet again. TbS last ties were severed by the paying out of the retiring partner's capital. Marlow had suggested that this might be done bv instalments, but Lockyer, thirsting for independence, found the large sum required by borrowing it.

11l The moat sociable member of the Argentine liner's passengers had cornered the most retiring member in the smoke-room. "I have just had it from the captain himself," he announced, dropping upon the divan, "that we shall positively be in London on the morning of Christmas •Ere I" member, laying down his book and endeavouring to look pleased. His age might have been a little over thirty, apA he evidently desired to be courteous to the intruder, who was apparently his senior by a score of years. "Indeed!" he,repeated, then seemed at a loss for further conversation. The other, however, had plenty to say for himself. After a few congratulatory remarks on the liner's speedy passage, he fell to asking questions. "Going home for good?" "For six months, at any rate." "Ah! Haven't made up your mind about settling st home?" "Not quite?' "Just so, just so. Are you a Londoner?" "I was." "H'ml I see. You have been abroad for some time. How long have you been in the Argentine?" "Eleven years." "Dear me! But you have been home at intervals?" "This is my first trip home." "WeJL well; you'll see some changes in London, I can tell you—in the streets, at all events. Your people are in London, I suppose?" The younger man shook his head. "I am not sure that I shall find any friends in London," he said slowly. "After my mother's death a few years ago, ray two brothers—my only relations in London—went to Canada. One is apt to be forgotten by friends and acquaintances in the course of eleven years." "Come, coma," said the other briskly. "I think you will find you are wrong there!" He proceeded to relate anecdotes of warm welcomes ac-

corded returning exiles of his own acquaintance. When he paused for breath "Well, there is perhaps one who will remember me," the younger man said, and inquired with a* certain diffidence of manner whether his companion by any chance knew a Mr. Marlow, a West Indian merchant. "No/' was the reply. Then: "Not Marlow of Marlow and Lockyer? "You know him?" eagerly. "Not personally, but " The older man hesitated, looking grave. "Don't tell me he is dead!" "I hare not noticed a death under that name lately: but, as I said, I do not know Mr. Marlow personally, nor hare I had any dealings with the firm.' My business is of quite a different nature." The speaker rose, as if eager to depart. "One moment, sir, if you please. Tou seem to know of something which you shrink from telling me. I beg you to tell " "H'mt h'mf I'm sure I had no depjtjtJo pain you. This is extremely ■p for me; and, after all, I may Voeen misinformed. You are a this Mr. Marlow's. and I would rather you did not ask me to "I would rather know the worst. Is it something to do with the firm?" The sociable member bowed and looked miserable. "I can only tell you I heard on 'Change the day before I left London, ten weeks ago—and the report may have been false." "What did you hear?" "That the firm of Marlow and Lockyer was shaky—on its last legs, in

i IV. Id the dusk of the 24th of December Mr. Lockyer emerged from the portals of * great bank." He looked the crushed and beaten man he was. The manager of the bank, sincerely regretful, for the business relationship had been long and friendly, had blasted hi. ' last hope. The bank could not extent

further credit, and the heavy billt payable on the 27th would ba dishonoured. After that—bankruptcy. To a modem business many things may happen in the' course of three years. The history of Marlow and Lockyer over that period would mean a long stpry Enough to say that Lockyer, handicapped by his initialborrowing, had found the first two Tears so profitless that he had dropped his principles and entered desperately into big risks. But a certain genius is required for successful speculation, and- that genius seemed to have guitted the business along with Marnr. The hazards of Lockyer resulted in nothing but disaster. i

He was alone in his private room —alone on the premises. The clerks -7-their number reduced since Marlow's time—had gone an hour ago, lie youngsters in holiday mood, the elders vaguely uneasy. Lockyer trusted no one with his secrets, but such things leak out, and his manner on his re- : turn from the bank had been very strange. He sat at his.desk, motionless, his head in his hands. There was nothing to detain him there. He was simply afraid to go home. He had kept his wife in the dark regarding his affairs. The-younger members of his family—the oldest, a girl, was not yet sixteen—were having a party that evening. How could he face them all? He felt that the mere sight of him would blight their happiness. "My God I" he whispered, "what a hideous thing to happen on Christmas Eve I"

His tired mind went back to its feverish futile search—the search that had occupied it throughout those recent torturing weeks—the search for a way of escape, for the name of some fellow being who might possibly be induced to lend a helping hand. But it was only another spasm of vain beating against the bars. There was no way oat; there was no fellow being who would aid—save, perhaps, one, Marlow. Surely Marlow would do it—if only because it was Christmas Eve. But Marlow was still wandering abroad, Lockyer knew not where. His senses dulled by his mental misery, Lockyer scarcely heard the opening of the outer door. When footsteps drew near the private room he did not stir. A clerk returned foi some article forgotten—the charwoman —it mattered not. But when a knock fell on the door, he sat up, groped for a pencil, and feigned to be busy. He moistened his lips and got out the words "Come in. ' A stranger entered; a man still young, well-dressed, but apparently ill at ease.

"I beg your pardon," he said, halting awkwardly just within the threshold, "but I saw the light in the window, and I was anxious to have a word with Mr. Marlow." He paused, paling a little as he met the curious dull stare of Lockyer's eyes. "Has Vlr. Marlow gone home? I should like 7ery much to find him to-night." Lockyer cleared his throat. "Mr. Marlow is abroad. I do not know his address." "Abroad!" The words was charged with dismay. "Can you tell me when he will return?" The question came after another pause. . "I cannot." The stranger sighed. "I had hoped," he said softly, "to offer—to do Mr. Marlow a little service. I arrived from Buenos Aires but an hour ago. The steamer was delayed at the last." "May I ask who are you?" Lockyer had been asking himself who the stranger, faintly' familiar, might be. but his over-wrought memory hat offered no answer.

The stranger sighed again. "Don' vou remember Dennison, Mr. Lock yer?" "Dennison?" "The thief on whom you had sucr great mercy, eleven years ago this verj night?" T 'Mercy?—l?" "You, Mr. Lockyer. Ah, Mr. Maryou told me how you sacrificed your principles to be lenient and how you ioinecf with him in giving me that lundred pounds " "Stop! For a moment Lockyer's pallid countenance was scarlet. "I see, you don't wish me to refer to it," said Dennison. "Well, my thanks would never give you any idea of my gratitude." "You owe me no gratitude." Dennison smiled faintly. "Nothing you can ever say," he said gently, "will convince me of that. But now I can say to you what I wished to say to Mr. Marlow. I had Mr. Marlow first in my mind because he was senior: and also, perhaps, because he —shook hands with me that night. 1 can't tell you what that meant, Mr. Lockyer." There was a silence. The ruined man made as if to rise. What was he now that he should refuse his hand? Had he been so very honest in the risking of other people's money? Legitimate business, no doubt—but could it be called absolutely straight? He sank back in his chair. At least he need not act the hypocrite. "I must repeat,' 'he said stiffly, "that you owe me no gratitude—quite the reverse."

Once more Dennison smiled faintly and shook his head. "As you will, sir. But I know what Mr. Marlow told me. And now " "I ought to have informed you that Mr. Marlow is no longer a member of this firm. He retired more than three years ago." "Retired! Then he is not involved— I beg your pardon, Mr. Lockyer. It may seem impertinent, but is—is everything well and prosperous with himP"

"I have no reason to doubt it, Mr. Dennison. He left the firm at the height of its prosperity." Lockyer was writing erratically on the blottingpaper. "At the height of its prosperity," he muttered. "Height of its prosperity." He had become ghastly. '"Height of " "Mr. Lockyer, you're ill I" cried Dennison. j "I'm perfectly well—perfectly well—perfectly " Dennison took a step forward. "You are in great trouble. On board the steamer I heard—no, never mind that. But if you can tell me a little, perhaps—-" Lockyer pulled himself together. "What did you hear on the steamer?" Then he collapsed again. "Oh, what does it matter? It'll be in the papers in a few days. We suspend payment' on Friday." < Dennison's lip quivered slightly as he looked down on the bowed head of the man whom he counted a benefactor. He took an envelope from his pocket, i "Mr. Lockyer," he said shyly, "thiß is a draft on the Bank of England for eight thousand pounds. I wflT endorse | it to the firm. If it should prove suffiI cient to save your credit, I'D find hapI piness in the thought till the end of j my life. I beg you to accept it." i A long minute passed ere Lojkyei . raised his head. Emotion had wrought , new lines on his face. "Hie money you have offered i o, j Mr. Dennison," he said very slowly, j "would save me. . . . but I cannol take it." •*lt was honestly come by," returned

, Dennison. quietly. "I have had soin fortunate deals m land out there." : "For, Heaven's sake don't misundei stand me I I can't take it—becauseeleven years ago I—l would have sen you to jail." "But you thought better—mor kindly—of it," said Dennison almos cheerfully. He came up to the desk "May I use one of your pens?". "Dennison, I can't let you do it I'm bumbled to the dust." "No, sir. You are lifting me fron that. I'll go back to the Argentine ; new man." ! "You go back soon?" Lockyer spok< (absently. "To-night. Sail from the Clyde to morrow." ', Lockyer appeared to wake up. "Bui you have just arrived." i The younger man reddened. "Founc ' a cable recalling me."- He stoopec | and wrote across the back of the draf 1 ' and passed it over to Lockyer. | What man, worried almost to death I could reject the salvation expressed in that oblong of green paper? 1 "As a loan Dennison, as a loan," be said huskily, weakly. "Very well, Mr. Lockyer. I'll send you my Buenos Aires address when I S9t there. I'm making a change." •ennison spoke hurriedly, looking uncomfortable. "Didn't expect to return there so soon, you know. Now, sir, if you will do me the honour to shake hands " "Oh, man, why should I take this money?" cried Lockyer. "Why should you give it?" Dennison's faint smile 7 came again. "It's Christmas Eve," he replied. "That's what Mr. Marlow said to me, eleven years ago." (The End.)