On The Back of an Envelope.

Auckland Star, Volume XXVI, Issue 5465, 24 January 1885, Page 3

On The Back of an Envelope.

I was living in a boarding-house in Sydney, let us say Gower-street. I was one of seven, five males and two females. I was a bushman transplanted to town. How I came to bo there was simply from pure vanity. I had an idea that I was too good to be thrown away in the bush. Let it pass

—it was years ago, and I was younger then and more foolish. lam only writing as a witness of the events that happened then.

I was not an actor. There were five of us only when I first pitched my camp in Go werstreet. Our hostess was oi the usual

" widowish" type. A portrait of the dear departed hung over the mantelpiece, and the regulation chairs.and tables graced the other rooms with their well-known presence, and the daily mess was of the quantity and quality known to every sojourner in lodgings in Sydney. It was some six months after I had been domiciled in the lodgings that the strange things happened that lead me to write this narrative. As I said, I ing under the mistaken delusion that I only wanted a fair show amongst my fellow-men to come to the foro. It was a vain delusion. I had just come to that conclusion when two new boarders entered our select little assembly. I was then a clerk in a woolbroker's office—l may as well state my social status. The new comers were man and wife, Mr and Mrs Tuckett. She was good-looking, and we—viz., the old boarders —all admired her. I need scarcely say we all disliked him. Now, lam not going to describe Mr and Mrs Tuckett. Let me abide by my former description, that he was the Beast and she the Beauty. Also that their room was underneath mine ; and, owing to the scandalous way in which cheap houses are run up in Sydney, I got the benefit of a good deal of conversation not meant for alien ears. I could not help it. I vow on my honour that I often stuffed the bedclothes in my ears until suffocation was imminent, but through it all I heard ! I heard ? The first thing I heard was about half-past ten one night, and then I heard, the Beast say in a gruff tone—

"Bring me the boot-jack," "Would not any o,thor Jack suit you, dear?" said a soft voice in persuasive accents.

"Ha I" I heard, ground through clenched teeth ; " you dare to play upon that bated name ! But no matter—my tim,e will come."

Then I heard a heavy sigh, and naught but whispered mutterings. What could it mean \ Bribson was not the mqn meant \ his Christian names were "Va.nejiarcou.rt," at least ho said so. Who was this hated Jack ? \ was soon. to. find out. It was a wee i. after tlijs that in mounting the stairs to, my roam \ saw a \ised envelope lying on the landing. I pioked it up. It was directed to "J. 0. Tuckett, Esq." But that was not all. On the back was pencilled tho following awful memo : " He dies at five." When X descended to dinner I looked to see some mark of. idling trouble on the features of the se*Wfcy W the Beast. There was nonp, \Sn ©ushrogly he glanced around and, in his usual, remarks, ynppnsijiously she looked at her plt\tc 4 and drove us all frantic with her distracting beauty. Perhaps it was five in the morning when the tragedy was to take place. I made up my mind to wake (Kis watch. I noted Bribson, our. great washer, that evening. He was calm Outwardly, but the evidence of a slu^ber-ing volcano was apparent bcnea^U that tight stiff collar, I dared not tako him into my confidence, for hs had often told me of the violence of his temper when rendered uncontrollable by stories of unredressed wroags. And I thought it would not ■be safe to let him know what wr^s &£,ou.t to happen. There might b,e tvijo victims instead of'one. Meantime who was " Jack " ? I ewwined the envelope, again and aga.^ but bsvofld seeing that; it was i,n a, i&a,n's handwriting could; get no, f^rthes clue,. 'lHe dies at fjve" rm,ttt|ered as I wont to bed. "I \yi\l see. that he does not " was the solemn oath I administered to myself. That night I heard voices again. The Brute said—

" Has Jack come yet ?" The Beauty said, "f.o, I have not s^en. him,"

"Tl'.Sn bring me my poison,"1 aaid tho tSeast, and I heard no njOi'e,

Poison then was the weapon to be resorted to, and how could 1 combat that ? 1 made up my mind finally that I would seek Kribson and get advice from him. I sought him —that is to say, I invaded the sanctity of bis bedchamber, lam sorry to have to relate that he was lying on his itack, snoring great guns, and looking as litHe like a masher" as anybody could. I felt rather nervous about awaking him, for fear he would on the impulse of tho moment fly at my throat and strangle me, Ho.wever, 1 touched him and slid—

" Wake up, old man, I have, something to say to you." Hewokeup, b.uthjsfirsfcwordswereincoherent. Herautteredsomething about hiswatch being outside t!ic door and bis boots under the pillow; beyond that I oould make no souse of it. 1 uicußed him thoroughly in {act, I shook him, regardless of danger, mi j.i! he sat up and was able to converse with hiq rat ioimlly. Then the whole nature of the man awoke. I had always regarded him aa a humbug connected with the little love affaire, but I must cay that under present circumstances lie behaved like, a man. After I had told him all I dreaded and suspected, ho got_ cp, sought after an ancient foil he bed in liia out} which, K. ua said, his great grandfather hr.d iougut two duels with. With, this ip his. hand, and, to tell a true story, c. short and f canty night raimep.ti he solemnly assured irie that no harm, E&enld bo done under that roof that nigUt' whilst ho lived and wore a sword. H "remember his shitting his foil Jjirom his right hand to his loft, and shaking mo by tho hand aaying—

" Holy on me, old fellow. Just you go to sleep, and I'll see that no mischiof happens." Then I left. I was frightened that he might hurt himself with the foil; but he assured me that thoru was a button on iha end of it, and subsided into bed calmty embracing it. I retired—not exactly comforted, but still hoping that nothing desperate would happen. I listened anxiously for several hours, but heard no sound of strife, and finally fell into a deep slumber until the birds awoke me in the early morning. Then the terrors of the day flashed upon me. Jack was to be poisoned at five. Was it now five or half-past ? I was uncertain which. Providentially it was only ten minutes to five. I made up my mind to go down and see Bribson. Ho would probably be awake and on the watch with. his deadly foil. What were my feelings as I stole down the stairs ? Could Mrs Tuckett have an old sweetheart of (he name of Jack ? Could the Brute or the Beast (for

by each name was he known) have got to feel a jealous hatred that nothing but blood would quench ? Should Ibe tho means of rescuing a fellow-creature from a violent death impending ? I stole softly down-f-tairs; as softly I knocked at Bribson's door, and was rewarded by the appearance of that warrior, armed and ready. We waited. In fact, we waited hours. We heard the ."boots" come up and collect the boots. We heard him bring them back again. We listened and waited. No signs of bloodshed, no poison. At last the breakfast bell rang. Then we agreed to go and dross. We descended to the breakfast room, looking hurt and gloomy. Mr and Mrs Tuckett were in their usual places, looking —as always—Beauty and the Beast. Bribson was calmly silent—watching ; but I knew now what a foarful volcano lay smouldering beneath. Jack apparently had not been killed—at least, if so, his death had been noiseless. We had no facts to go upon hitherto. Then a brilliant idea struck me. What if 1 confronted Tuckett with that letter which I felt cure was endorsed on the back in his own ■ hand-writing ? I determined to do so. In my blandost manner I addressed the man whoso life I felt was at my mercy. Bribson, like the man he was, edged up and stood ready for any emer-1 gency, with the foil of his grandfather in waiting. "Mr Tucker," I said, " is this your envelope, and do you know the meaning of this memo, thereon ?" N

He looked at it—this man of iron nerve. Then he laughed. "Of course, I do. I dropped this on the stairs the other day, and have been rather put out by missing it. I was wondering who could have found it." ,

"Sir," I said—and I trusted in that supreme moment I preserved the dignity of manhood—" can you dare to acknowledge the awful weight of crime conveyed by the notice on the back of that envelope ?" " Certainly," he replied. " What in the name of fortune do you mean ?" I stared at him in awful horror at his guilt. He glanced at the envelope. "Jack dines at five," he eaid. Then he turned to me again. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked. "My old friend Jack Milson asks me to dinner. I pencil a memo, on the back of the envelope, and you find it an.d calmly accuse me of some awful crime. What do you understand?"

I think I'll draw a veil over tho rest of ;his story, but I wish people would write a ittle plainer.—" Prize Tit-bits."