A STRANGE CHRISTMAS GUEST.
SECOND PRIZE
(Br Mrs Maclean')>
Tβ Uhi, Taupiri, Waikato.
CHAPTER I,
©n the the 23rd December, 18—, the agent
©£ the Quarfczville branch of the Bank of — , Mr Wilson, who, in hia own person constituted the whole staff of the establishment, was just; preparing to close for the day, for the office clock indicated five minutes past three, when the portly figure of Mr Brown, a large squatter in the district, and one of the Bank's most important jjlienta, advanced to the counter.
'Good afternoon Mr Wilson, compliments oi: the season, I've come to pay in £100 to my account, , placing a roll of notes on the counter, ' five tens, and ten fives—l think you will find that risiht.' Wilson returned the kindly greeting, and taking the roil of notes counted them over, then laid them on the counter, intending: to enter them as soon as he wad at leisure. 'If I am not detaining you, 1 will sit down for a few minutes,' said the squatter, depositing hia substantial person on one of the office chairs. ' My daughter promised to call for mo with the buggy. I expect she will be here directly. 1 ' Only too pleased to have your society, Bir ; it is not too lively here,' said Wilson a little ruefully, 'No ; this ;s not too cheerful a place to spend Christmas in, I should think, , paid Mr Brov/n, leaning his elbow on the counter, and bending forward confidentially. 'Brings round unpleasant associations, don't it? Let me see, exactly a year ago to-day, is it not ?'
Wilson nodded ; ' 1 never knew the poor fellou , , which, of course, makes a difference, bub still I can't say I exactly likeib; you see I have to sleep in the same bed-room, j there's no where else to sleep. I never thought much about, it until last week, when old Mrs Grey was cleaning, and she showed me the blood stain, whon the carpet was up.' j 'It was a ghastly sight ; I shall never! forget it,' said Mr Brown. ' You know we were all very much attached to the poor lad. Seemed as nice a fellow as ever lived, the lasb man you would suspect of anything dishonourable, and to blow out his brains over such a paltry sum as £100 too ! 81e33 my soul, if he was going to steal, why not take something worth while V 'It was a fearful blow bo hi 3 father, old Colonel Allan, , he continued after a pause ; •he has never been the same man since. A fine old man ; a little stern and hard perhaps, but still a fine old soldier, and this business ha 3 prebby well broken his heart. 1 don't believe he fsels the poor lad's death so much as the disgrace of the theft, and the worst of it ia that the affair will certainly injure the prospects of the other boys when they leava school and have to go out into the world bo earn their living.' A silence ensued. Mr Brown leaned his head on his hand, with a shadow on his kindly face. Suddenly the stillness of the room was broken by a sound like a long trembling sigh. Both men started, exclaiming simultaneously, ' What was that? , gazed searchingiy round the office, then at each other r/ich uplifted eyebrows. ' Seems as if" the place is haunted after all,' said Wilson with a laugh that sounded a little forced. ' I wonder you did nob apply for leave of absence, and geb out of the beastly hole,' said the squatter ; ' the associations are not inspiriting, to say the least of ifc.' *I did apply for leave,' said Wilson dolefully, ' but 1 have nob got an answer yet, though I still hope that a letter and , relieving officer may arrive together by tonight's steamer or by the oxcuision one tomorrow ; bub anyhow, the delay has spoilt all my plans. I meant to take a trip up North, t«nd now I have missed tho only steamer for a fortnight.' 'Never mind,' said Mr Brown, sympathetica! !y, 'come out and take pot-luck with us. Mr 3 Brown and the girls will be delighted to see you. Let me see, I'm coining in to-morrow to meet bhe steamer p.q<! bring my boy home, and I'll call in and see how you are petting on, and if your locum lenens hns airived I will take you back with me, if that will suit your book.' 'You are really too kind,' said Wilson with unfeigned gratitude. 'If Mrs Brown will not. think I am trespassing on her hospiiality I shall be delighted.' 'Oh, the more tho merrier,' said tho genial old man lightly. ' I don't think my girls will quarrel with mo for bringing out an extra young man. Somehow, in spite of all the new-f.'thgied women's rights notions, they seem just as indispensable as ever at a feast or a wedding.' 'Oh. by the way,' he continued, 'would you mind givine me a few branches of pohutukawa ? Mγ girls gave me particular ininnctions to brine back some for decoration?, and I forgot all about it till I noticed the very fine tree you hav,e at tho back of the bank. , ' ' 'With pleasure, said Wilson; 'will you come and'solecc some?' and ho led the way through a door opposite to the main entrance, opening into a small crass-covered onc.bauro, whose pole ornament was .t magnificent pohutukawa tree, now covered with crimson flowers. Just as they had stripped the tree of soino of its finest bloom?, the sound of approaehhig wheels was heard. 'There's Lizzie,' said Mr Brown ; ' now I roust be ol!; it. docs nob do to keep the ponies standing—thoy gotrostivo at once.; 'Mr Wilson is coming out to spend ins Christmas holidays with v.<•>,' ho called out, vhen the" p-aineel the front entrance, where Miss Lizzie! a very pretty girl, driving a woll-.ipnointfid pony carriage, awv.it.od, 'and l'have just been oxrlaining to him tkib I musfc not keep you or the ponies waiting,'as you arc all rab'oer fiery in tho temper.' , . Chuckling at Ills own jocularity the genial old man squeezed himaolf in beside his slim daughter. ' Remember, I will call for you to-morrow' morning about ten. Give bhom their head, Liz. , Lizzie bowed ii owiling adieu, flourished her whip, and "in a moment thoy wore olf. Wilson stood ut tho open door watching thr.vxi out of sight with a smiio on bis face. The kindliness of tho old squatter, the "ontle courtesy of hw pretty dauyhrer, had broken the chill spell of lonolino-3 and isolation that bad \vAd him over f/uieo his arrival in Quurtzvillo. whore too foeiaty wn.-s of the roughest description, and social entertainment most meatrrc. Ho re-ontored tho Bank unn' proceeded <;o lock up, whistling softly. Ho hwkod tho front door and commenced up tho Oilioo bo..!■:«, cnehbox, etc., that wore »ilway?i after oflioo hours deposited in a safo built; into his bod-room wall, tho tamo room \ huf hi pfH , crt-asor had enacted so j idiul ti I r 'v * " jilianfon-i <,f tho past had littlo power lo li.tmit him now, wisi'e he was I<m>i i ' foti/u<l wiHi boyish pageruess to <I* I* /I;)' H , ill tlw IK 11 tlll.uro. tin ii In !wn oiiici.iiin'r olso to pub ay iv </ii, y< ''I Ik notiiri Mr Brown Imd yui pn I lit ii' tnu ii ii tor thf-m (irsb, and t))i;ii iuvk ili'.'iij up in l.ho caslibox. Bnh jk v/h'i'j fifithiv' . He Imd cerfain'.y laiil Kh» tin in jit iHit on (ho blo'.,!i!M!-i>ft<l bosido ti< in ii ul II I! < <■! fciin inliHtiuid and HH| lxjlxil iji rl n< th link nil tho blotting Hulls P«w -i i 'oji v, bn iiuthiiig cutiio out,
fcho loner-polished counter showed shininoand bare. Then he went down on one knee and eagerly scanned the floor, but no roll of notes broke its level and dusty surface rhen sinking on one of the office chairs feeling suddenly sick and giddy, the idea dawned on him that the money was gone. One hundred pounds—only one hundred pounds—a trifling sum to a rich man, but Wilson was not a rich man, he was a very poor one. His salary was a very small one, and he found it rather difficult to live on it, and maintain the gentlemanly appearance his position demanded. He had absolutely no means of replacing the money, and the loss ot it meant also the loss of his situation. 4nd not only that, he thought with a sick feeling of despair, the Bank might prosecute and imprison him for theft ; they had done so before for smaller sums. Hehad no one to whom he could appeal for assistance. For many years an orphan, ho had no near relatives, and even some distant connections to whom he mighc have applied were at the Antipodes. Assistance to avail anything must be speedy. Housing himself, ho went to the bedroom, opened the safe, took out all the books and papers, and shook each one separately, but with no result. Then he examined the contents of the cashbox. There wore various sums of money, of all of which he retained a written and mental inventory, but nothing corresponding to a roll of live tens and ten fives. He then peered into the perfectly bare safe, but it was obtrusively empty. He replaced everything 'in the safe, put the keys in his pneket. and commenced wildly and erratically to search in all sorts of improbable places—in the pockets of old coats, chests of drawers ; he even took up all his boots and shoes and shook them, but evoked nothing more than clouds of dust, to evidence the neglect of his charwoman. Presently he sat down, feeling broken nnd exhausted, to try and realise the situation. Whcra had the notes gone? The explanation was simple enough. With incredible neglect and stupidity, he had gone into the yard with Mr Brown to gather the Christmas flowera, leaving the front door ajar, and the notes on the counter ; some thief had seized the tempting opportunity, and the notes were gone for ever beyond hopo of recovery, for he did not know the numbers. Then, with a strange fascination, his oyee sought the spot on the floor, now covered with faded carpet, where ho know that blood stain was, which the old charwoman had pointed out to him with such ghoullike glee, while she appreciatively described the position in which the body had been found, the outstretched right hand, the revolver lying on the floor, the head leaning over the back of the chair. It might be the very chair on which he was now sitting. The thought gavo him a thrill of horror, and he jumped up shuddering. He had always before thought of the dead man with a sort of pitying contempt; now the scorn was gone, but the pity remained, and a new sympathy. He could now understand the situation so thoroughly. The office clock struck six, reminding him that it was the hour when he usually went to the nearest hotel for dinner. He had eaten nothing since breakfast, having been too busily engaged to spare time for lunch, but the thought of dinner was intolerable. He felt aa if a fever or ague were hanging over him, for his limbs shook and perspiration stood in drops on his forehead. ! He would get some brandy ; surely no man ever needed it more. CHAPTER IL An hour later our hero was Beated in the
office. On the table before him were an uncorked bottle ot brandy, a glass, aud small jug of water. He had limited a candle to di»pel tho gathering shadows ; the back door stood open to admit the cool evening air. It was wonderful how much more cheerfully ho could view the situation after the consumption of two strong glasses of excellent brandy. He thought of many hopeful alternatives; of frioucia who were good follows, and would lend him the money ; of the bank authorities taking a lenient view of the case, and allowing him to replace the sum by instalments out of hia salary—when at this point in his meditations ho was surprised to see a gentleman standing at the opan door, as he had heard no sound of approaching footsteps. Tho newcomer, a ball, slim young Mlow about , hi: 3 own age, was a perfect stranger to him, ;i-.rl Wilson at once concluded that be was ;:ha relieving officer whom he had been so eagerly expecting. Now however, such an arrival was tho bsfc thing desirable. It meant hastening tho inevitable disclosure of the loss of the notes. , . KeJther was his present attitude, with an emptied bottle of brandy before him, one i-i which he would caro to be discoveied by any officer of tho bank. Hastily determining however, that the only course loft was fco put n tjold lace on the matter, ho advanced to the door, saying, '1 am glad to sco you, sir. I have been expecting you for some time, praycomoin and sit down.' 'Thank you, : said the stranger, accepting the proffered chair. ' I shall be glad to do so-' , , „, 'May I offer yon somo refreshment: said Wilson, indicating the brandy. ' No, thank you, I nevor drink.' ' infernal prig !' Wilson mentally ejaculated. ' Using one kind of spirits as on antidote fco miothor?' with a slight sneer. ' Possibly,' replied Wilson, rather nottlod lit !,ho taunt, ' but you must admit my surroundings are sufuoioutly
r ghostly to make such a proceeding excuse--3 able ; this is the first anniversary of the E night when my predecessor shot himself— , but you evidently know the story. , p 'Of all the contemptible follies inherent i to human nature, surely the fear of ghosts is the most absurd,' said the stranger with lan impatient gesture. ' Hae any ghost , ever been known to manifest its presence j save for some good purpose 1 To warn of i impending calamity, to help the detection [ of crime, to watch over those dear to it in . life? The inexorable laws which govern ■ their existence forbid them to interfere in i the affairs of the living, save for some good j end. , ' I was not awar-e,' said Wilson, drily, ; ' that the laws which regulata the conduct . of the inhabitants of another world wero 30 r fully understood in this.' » • What is fully understood in this world ?' : said the stranger, in calmly contemptuous 3 accents. ' On how many subject are not the . many blindly led by the few, who hold up s as infallible truths theories hatched in 5 their own braina ?' The newcomer puzzled Wilson. Hi 3 appearance was youthful, even boyish, but his 3 manner had all the gravity and cyncial 3 calmness of world-weary age, while the seriousness with which he'discussed a sub- > ject scarcely ever touched on save with [• ridicule was startling. In spite of himself i Wilson felt the eerie sensations, which the - brandy had for a time dispelled, creep , slowly back. , 'You seem,' he said, 'to have given the subject of ghosts and spirits some study.' '•> ' There, , replied his strange guest, ' you 1 commit a vulgar error in confounding \ ghosts and spirits. They are as essentially i different aa the living and the dead. Spirits > are the souls of those who quit this life at - the fiat of their Creator, and enter into i their appointed habitation. Ghosts are the souls of suicides condemned to continue 1 their earthly labour until the hour of ■ their release arrives, the date of which coincides with that appointed for their * death. Thus, if a man commits suicide at 5 twenty years of ago, who in the natural » course of events would have lived till sixty, " ha is condemned to lead the existence of a i ghost forty yeara before he is permitted to t enter the world of spirits. , I 'In that case,' said Wilson, 'whore is 1 my predecessor continuing his earthly avo--1 cations?' ' Perhaps,' said the stranger, : while you * have been seated at your desk making up 1 your accounts, an invisible presence has ; been similarly engaged. Perhaps, whilo 1 you have stood at the counter receiving or ■ paying money, an invisible hand has also I closed its impalpable fingers over the notes 1 and coin.' 'One thing is quite certain, he has always ' been quite invisible.' 3 ' Ghosts are not allowed to manifest ■ their presence save on rare occasions and > for some special purpose. I fancy if Edward Allan were allowed to appear it 3 would be to clear his character from the > imputation of theft.' 'That, I should think, would be rather 3 difficult. There seems to be no doubt that > he took the money.' 'Ho may have lost it,' said the stranger I significantly; such case 3 have been heard of f before,' then suddenly rising and fixing his eyes that glittered eagerly full on Wilson's > face.' 3 'If I prove this to you will you help me l ' to vindicate hia memory.' 'I will,' sakl Wilson solemnly. * ' Suppose,' he said, walking rapidly across " the room, and taking his place* behind the counter, ' Allan had stood jueo here ; while he receivod a roll of notes amounting to £100. The bank is empty. Ho places them on the counter, so, while he goes fora moment into the bedroom to got some 3 books from the safe. The front door ia ajar,
tho back door has a defective fastening , and swings suddenly open. A gust of air sweeps through the room, catches the light roll of paper, and carries it along the counter to the end, where it drops down in the narrow space left between ib and the wall. Look down between the wall and the counter; there is a hole gnawed by rats in the floor. What if the notes dropped in there? What if Allan shot; himself, not because he was a thief, bub because he feared the world would condemn him as harshly a* yon did a moment ago? liernembsr -i/our promise !' With these words ringing in his ears, Wilson awoke, and found himself fitting before the office table, on which stood a half-empfcy bottle of brandy and a candle, now burns down fco the socket and sputtering preparatory to going out. The clock was striking the last stroke of twelve, the back door ptood wide open, admitting the chiil rush" "J ,- . He gazed round the room as if expecri g "o see somp one, but it was quite empty. A!: thai moment the candle suddenly expire;.' , . Ho groped about in the dark for mutches, bub roTuid none, then making hia way to the bed-room repeated the process, but without success?, then feeling overcome with drowsiness as it from the eiSecb of an ooiate, or perhaps the brandy, throw himself on the bed and foil heavily asleep. Awaking next morning, his dream returned to Ilia memory with startling clearness. Tho voice of his mysterious visitor again sounded in his ears, he could see again every emphatic gesture. Jumping up, he dressed himself hastily, and going into the office, proceeded to examine the space left between the counter and tho wall, which, strange to say, he had never noticed before. There sure enough was the rat-hole. Kneeling down on the floor, with trembling eagerness he inserted hi.? arm between the counter and wall, and found ha could just reach the hole with the lips of his finders. There was something iv it, something poffc. In an instant he had grasped and drawn it out. It was a roll of
notes, five tens and ten fives, certainly the money Mr Brown had given him yesterday. Flushed and breathless now with excitement, he again examined the hole. There was something else covered with dust and dirt and cobwebs. It was another roll of note 3, two five pounds, two twenty and six tens. At that inomenb a loud knock shook the front door. Wilson hastily laid down the note 3 and opened it; on the threshold stood Mr Brown. ' You see I am as good as my moral. I have come for you and brought your locum tenens along too. I picked him up on the steamer/and find he is an old friend of mine, so I've made it all right ; you can come away at once. Why, man ! what's the matter with you ? You look as white as a ghost.' ' I have made a remarkable discovery,' said Wilson, slowly. ' I have found the money poor Allan was supposed to have embezzled.' A few days later Wilson, who had been spending his holidays moat enjoyably at Mr Brown's, was sitting beside Mies Lizzie, who was showing him a photographic album, when pointing to a carte she said, "That is poor Mr Allan, whosa character you have been the providential means of clearing." Wilson looked, and recognised his Strange Christmas Quest.
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Bibliographic details
Auckland Star, Volume XXII, Issue 305, 24 December 1891, Page 2 (Supplement)
Word Count
3,480A STRANGE CHRISTMAS GUEST. Auckland Star, Volume XXII, Issue 305, 24 December 1891, Page 2 (Supplement)
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