ADAM

Auckland Star, Volume XLVII, Issue 67, 18 March 1916, Page 19

ADAM

By PAUL TRENT B«flft*t>fTfe, row," "The VgudHtg," «u<u Logan," eta, eta.

CHAPTER L lie Law Conrte had risen for the Tpmj Vacation on the previous day, and gjrJsJnef Blake was making a final visit ij, n fc diambera in the temple before jgjjjng for Scotland. A kindly-faced jan, -with shrewd, humorous eyee, he looked around with some regret, for he 3ad decided to retire from practice. For jjjny years be had been one of the jmiest of King's Counsel, and rumoar nii that he 'had invested a very comfortable fortune. "Any letters!" he asied of the elderly derk who, in his turn, was content to jstire with a handsome competence. ■"They are on your table, sir," Ketcher gnevered, with the rather pompous dignity of his kind. Evidently the correspondence was of

B o great importance, but a puzzled look came to Sir James' face as the regarded critically the laet envelope. "It can't be," he muttered, as he tore j{ open, but uncertainty gave way to jnsieinent when he had read the few lines.

"Dear Jim," it ran, "1 have met with an accident, and am told that I have only a very short time to live. You ■were my only friend, and 1 turn to you in desperation. Will you come 'to mc immediately on receipt of thia letter! Something teUs mc that you will not

fii YpiHß sincerely, Mark Eliot." Sir James glanced at the address—

Ihe Eetreat, Selverton, Devon—and called for a time-table. He had no hesi-

Ution in answering this call from the' j«et Twenty-fire yeara ago Mark Eliot lad been the one friend he valued; perhaps they ■ had been drawn together owing to the diseunilaj-ity of their natures, for Eliot had been something of and reserved, until be met the beautiful woman who had roused him to lore. Adele Raymond married him and tried to teaoh hhn her mode uf life, hut in vain, for he cared nothing for society. Gradually they had become etranged, and, very suddenly, Adele had left bin.. A week afterwards Mark Eliot disappeared, communicating with no one. not even telling His friend Blake, of his whereabouts.

'.I've juet time. Order mc a taxi," Sir James called to the junior clerk, and a few minutes later he vas driving rapidly" home.

"The cab stopped before a email house in Corzon Street, and upon entering Sir James was joined by his daughter, a tall girl, who resembled him closely. "You will have to stay in town for a few daye longer. I must run down to Devonshire," (he said, hastily. "I should like to come with yon," Amber Blake answered quietly. "I can't -manage it, dear. I'm going to a friend's death-bed."

"Wio is it?".ehe asked, with ready lympathy.

"No one yon know. Our friendship Satee before yoar birth. I'm sorry, Amber, bat 111 get back juat ac soon as 1 can." t "I think I'H come with yon. You can leave mc at an hotel. I promise not to make myself a nuisance. London is eimply stifling just now. Besides, my trunks are already packed," she added, as though that fact settled the matter.

Sir James hesitated far a moment, bat' Amber kised 'him ligntiy and ordered the footman to bring down the luggago to the hall. Her father gave in, and ■siUingjy, for the journey would hare been a lonely one. Moreover, there was a deep affection between them— iris wife bad died many years ago, and he had eoneentrated all his love upon the one child that had been left to him. Now, he was looking forward to a life of ease ■with her, his only fear being that afoe might iaM in love and marry. Amber was gifted beyond the great majority of her sex—she knew tihe value of Bilence; and so did not inflict idle conversation upon Sir James during the first part of the journey. It was evident that hie thoughts were far away. Indeed, they were with the past and Mark Eliot. Long-forgotten incidents came hack to his'lmind, and he began to wonder what had been 'his friend's life during the twenty odd year- that they had been apart. Here was no need for EHot to earn money, for he had inherited a securely invested sum that brought him an ;»dequaie income. Prior to hie marriage his energies had been devoted to scientific research; and he bad acquired renown with the limited but highly intellectual number who had read his books.

They alighted at Exeter, where Sir James made inquiries, and ascertained that Selverton was a village in a wild part of Devon, several milee distant from z railway station. "I shaH motor from here, and Jeave you at Dawlash. A breath of tflie eea trill do you good," he remarked to Amber; and to his relief, she made no objection. It was six o'clock by the time An irae settled in the hotel, and Sir Jamee started on his long drive to Seivexton; he reached it ac daylight was failing, and was toW, at the one inn the place poeeeesed, that the Retreat wae some four miles distant, in a wild and , ibiUy country. "You're the first visitor to the Retreat in twenty years." the landlord remarked, bluntly, '"and I doubt if Mr. ijHiot will Bee you." "He has 6ent for mc." "I did hear as the doctor was there, ,, the landlord Tejoined; his curiosity was very evident, but Sir James vouchsafed no information. It was indeed a wild country through ■Which they passed, and there was no sign of any honse, until tihey reached a high waill, which extended along the road for a great distance; at last, however, they arrived at a door, at which the chauffeur pulled up. A few minutes after the ringing of the bell there was the Bound of the turning of a key, and an old man stood blinking at them; without saying a word he took hold of the dressing-case, and motioned to Sir Jamee to follow. "You had better put up at the inn at Selverton," Sir Jamee said to the chauffeur. "How is Mr. EliotV" he added, to the servant, but received no answer. It was a Jong walk to the house; once or twice Sir James asked questions, but, Btill getting no reply, came to the conclusion that the man must be deaf. At last he could ccc the Retreat — a, twoBtoried building of 6ome size—in almost complete darkness. The Kerv.int crossed the hall, and, without pausing, led the way upstairs to the first floor. There he put dowa the dressing-case and opened a door— Reckoning to Sir James. This room wae 'ell lighted, and on a bed in the corner ikrk Eliot was lying. "Jim! I knew you'd come." "Mark—old chap! I hope you are Wtter"

Neither voice wae quite steady, ud ,1 5* f 7 *° y<yu ' Jim - some cold food on the table. Would d^ed™™ d Catd?S here? Perha P B S*" l '" s ™* > T«f i £» Toy hungry., Bat I sbant be long." * ' Sir Jamas quickly dispqeed of Borne cold chicken and half a bottle of burgundy, and while he ate hie friend watched him closely. "lou'H find a box of cigare in the cabinet. I wish I could join you, but I Shall want all my breath. Tell mc about jx>urself. 1 haven't heard a word for more than twenty years." "You've probably come across my name in the papers," Sir James answered lightly. "I haven't read a newspaper. I have no knowledge of anything." "God bleß6 my eoul!" Sir James broke in, without any irreverence. "You are not a young man. Have you stopped work?" Eliot asked. '•Yesterday—and I feel like a two-year-old. Now Fm going to enjoy myself—just Amber and I." "Amber?" "Yes—my daughter. My -wife died very soon after her birth. TheTe's not much to tell you. My life has been work, and: not much else. But I've done well enough. They made mc a K.C.M.G. for an international arbitration; and I've invested enough to give mc freedom. Now, about yourself. Have you had a eecond opinion!" "It's useless —I'm done for. My heart's all wrong, and I fell down. Something ineide is twisted, and they daren't operate. You might give mc a dose from that bottle. . . thanks, Jim." Mark Eliot lay back and watched hie friend. "You haven't altered very much. You're still the same good chap that I loved. But I'm going to test you. It's fortunate you've done witih work. You may be the more likely to do what I ask." "11l do anything that I can, Jim. Ton know that. I grieved' for you greatly when yott disappeared. . . You should have written. It was hardly playing tie game." "I couldn't. . You see, you knew Adele. I worshipped' her, and felt that I mrust cut myself off from any one who knew her. I feared I should go mad. It r e nearly twenty-four years since I buried myself in the Retreat . You noticed tine high walls!" "Yes." "I've never been outride them since; and I've never wished to." Sir James' face plainly showed his surprise. "Buried alive in thie place! How tefrdbte! Have you been quite alone?" "I have a servant. You've met him. : He's deaf anil dumb."' "So I might have gathered," Sir James answered "And you've epoken to no one except myself durin? these long years? It seems •incredible."' "There has been one other." "A woman: 111 bet anything," chuckled Sir James. "There has been only one woman in my Me—Adele- My companion hop taught mc a great deal. I had meant to •write of all I had leanrt. In a few months I ehould have commenced. Tiie result would' have indeed been a human document. But first I want you to understand the state of my mind when Adele left mc." "Is she living?" '"I don't know. I've ceased to care. The new interests that sprang vp —they overwhelmed everything else." "And these new interests 1" "In good time I will tell you. . , . But I want you to understand. For weeke my mind was dazed. I came to Selverton, and just existed. I could not think; 1 had almost become an animal — merely eating and sleeping. Staying ;n the village wae a Mrs. Stanhope—a tall, fine woman with a quiet dignity that was impressive. With her waa a baby a fe,w months old. Her husband was fighting some of England's battles —a man of unblemished reputation and a brilliant soldier, who was everything to his wife. One day I was effectually roneed. 1 chanced to be passing the cottage where she lived, when a boy delivered a telegram to her. She was standing at the gate. I heard a piercing cry, and ran to her. Her husband was dead. A fes houre later she followed him; and I was with her when she died. I could not ascertain whether there were any reiativee on either side, but there was certainly very little money. Deep into my eyes ehe looked, andi death was very near to her. The question, came—bomblike—would I take care of the orphan?" Eliot paused, and far the first time smiled. "I consented —and now yon kno* where I have found the interests that have caused mc to forget Adele." "In the boy?" "Yes—in Adam," Eliot answered, and ■lapsed into silence. CHAPTER n. It was a lew minutes before Eliot resumed has explanation, and there waa an apologetic note in hie voice. "As I look back, I must admit that I was mad —at any rate, my state of mind was not normal. The Retreat was to let. It had been used as a small, private lunatic asyhim—hence the seclusion and the high wall. The place seemed united to my requirements and I promptly bought it. You know, I never cared much about luxuries, and I was content wdth one servant—Alpin." "What about the baby? Who looked after him?" Sir James aeked, cariouely. "Alpia and I between w». . . and now I come to the difficult pant. I repeat that the state of my mind wae not normal. I found myself taking an enormous interest in Adam. I listened to him lisping his first words. By some freak he eeemed' to care for mc, and then came the great temptation. For fully a month. I eteuggled and then feH. As I took back, I can see *h*t I wae mad.^ "I wfe'h you would be more explicit, Sir James said, a little impatiently. "I determined to make the Great Experiment. You •wiH remember that in the old days I studied the effect of environment upon character?" "Yea. You were always a bit of a crank." . .. '1 decided to bring up Adam in tme strictest eeclusion. He should meet no human being except Alpin and myself, and he should only learn wt»t I cioee to teach him."

"You were assuming a great rtaponaiWKty," Sir James remarked, graved "More than you think," Eliot rejoined, grimly. "I determined .that he should fcnow nothing at ajll of the outside ■worid." Tod -were mad." "Nothing , of sex, nothing of life, exnept what he could acquire from hie own powers of reasoning." "Go on, Mart You are frightening mc, I want to understand." °\I taoght him to read and write. It was difficult, because I allowed no books; but he was naturally gifted, and learnt very quickly. It was my object to train his .powers of perception, and at an early age. I started Adam on mathematics; Euclid he loved." "I should like to understand. . .You gave him no information at all?" 'That's so —I deprived him of all means of gaining information. Alpin could not speak and " "You amaee mc. I'm trying to realise. Is this young man with you now?" "Yes. He's in the house, probably, working out some mathematical problem." "And he knows V "Even lese than the original Adam did. True, he hae been given a knowledge of mathematics that Adam did not possess, but that's all." "Didn't he question you?" "Continually, until I broke him of the haibit. He was especially curious ac to his origin. I consistently refused to anBwer any questions at all; and I believe he kntrwe nothing." "Then he has never seen a woman?" "He doesn't know that another sex exietfi." Sir James eoppressed an oath, and, rising to his feet, began to pace rapidly to and fro. His brow wae puckered into a frown, as he tried to realise exactly what this thing meant; a young man, in absolute ignorance of everything that matters! "God!" he ejaculated, fiercely. "I've told him nothing of each a being." "The world?" "The world to him is within the walla of the Retreat." "Mark, you were mad. You must be knad> now. Thie youth—he must be twenty-four, what did you intend to do with him?" "When "Be was twenty-five I wae going to introduce him to the wnrki. Tlhat wae the Great Experiment I wanted to see the effect of modern life upon a mind that was absolutely unde-filcd."

"You would have thrust him in the world—defenceless? It "was a crime that you committed." "I expected to be with him. Think of the book I could have written 1 And now, I'm doomed. That'e why I've cent for you."

"I'm very eorry," Sir James answered, coldly, "I don't feel like aesuming co terrible a responsibility. Be quiet for a fe-w minutes. I must think."

Sir James woe famed for (hie clear tHinking and jrowere oi perception, but he found it extremely difficult to put himself in the place of thie youth. For the first time he became conscious oi being curious to meet him. Bat one so profoundly ignorant must necessarily be dull, and probably sullen.

"How about amueemente ?" he hlurted out.

"The estate is a large one. There ie fishing, and some game. Adam found hie relaxation in -~ —* £i "And he was conteHtT*' '"' .y "I can't tell you. As the years posse— he, became as reserved as myself." (To he continued daily.)