Autograph Hunter

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 233, 1 October 1937, Page 15

Autograph Hunter

By . . Arthur T. Rich

KILLICK, the local Press declared, the best paid high diver in the world. Ho had come to demonstrate nt Frothington-on-Sca, and the proineiia.lc jis well as the pier was crowded with visitors nml inhabitants. He was billed to specialise in acrobatics and t.lio entertainments committee had erected the highest diving board ever seen in the town. An hour before the start of the show it. seemed that all the boys in a radius of twenty miles had gathered. Some of tliern carried autograph books. "It's no go," a lad in a fisherman's blue jersey told a group of lads.in red school caps, "Killick never given autographs. Lota of boy a have tried, but Jiff .von't do it." rhe little boy with brown curly hair and the wide, blue innocent eyes looked as if he were 011 the point of tears. "I say," he quavered in a cultured public school voice, "I must get his autogrnph. I've set my heart oil it." Kven tho prefect joined in the general laugh. As the little boy flushed he remarked, "Well, kid, if my bluster fails innocence may succeed, iviHick may be influenced by a baby face." The little boy bit his lip. It seemed that innocence had been pained to the limit. The fact seemed not lost on the genial clergyman standing by. He patted the curly curls with his plump red hand, called him "little man," and told him not to cry. Ho looked around on the older boys with scorn, delivering a lecture. "Xcvcr wound a sensitive lad," ha declared. "Vou boys are on holiday—so am I. But as I tell the boys in my own. school—if 0110 may talk shop on holiday—bullying is bad enough, but ridicule is worse. Here is a lad younger than any of you, who has set a purpose before his eyes—" • • • • The big boys looked at the ground. The clergyman droned on. He seemed glad of the opportunity of talking shop on holiday. The boys were in no mood for a schoolmaster's holiday lecture, but there was no escaping it in this thronging crowd. You could hardly inovo on this close, breathless August afternoon as the press was so great. "To encourage the lad," continued the parson, "I'm going to assist him to reach the goal of his desire. Since I arrived last Saturday, I've made the acquaintance of the chairman of the entertainments committee. If anything can be done, he will help. Come along, little mannie, we'll get through and see what we can do."

He spoke authoritatively, commanding instant obedience. "Make way there! Thank you!" He squeezed and pushed gently, his clerical collar becoming the Open Sesame. He shepherded the little boy forward, and the last the lads in school caps saw of him lie was holding Hard to the tail* of a clerical frock coat. "That's where it comes in," grumbled the prefect in despair, "if you have curly hair and innocent blue eyes—" "And a parson to take an interest in you . . . It's all influence in this world." Even the fisher boys agreed with this sixth form philosophy. Meanwhile the parson was talking to the chairman. "You might be able to do something for the lad. He's very anxious. He makes a practice of collecting the autograph® of famous men. I'd be much obliged if you'd take him to Killick." The official shook his head. "For some reason Mr. Killick never will give his autograph to anybody." "But, surely—" The cleric looked surprised. "One of his greatest admirers. You know what schoolboy fans arc. Take him along, there's a good chap. T'd be most obliged. I'm sure if you tokl him that the Rector of—" He mentioned the name of a famous church. • • • • At that the official opened his eyes wide. "Pardon, sir, I didn't know — That testimonial you wrote from London for the front page of our "Annual Holiday fiuide" —excellent, sir. Brought us hundreds of extra holiday visitors — that and Killick." He hurried away and returned smiling. "I explained about the publicity, sir, and I think if the little boy will come along—" "Ah, „ how generous of the great sportsman." sighed the clergyman. "Now, little majjnie, go 111 and conquer. The way i? open." And with a rhetorical flourish he walked back into the crowd. The little boy, a few moment* later, was facing a huge figure in a bathing costume. His blue eyes were admiring in wonder the great swimmer's huge museles. "I've often seen your picture in the naper, sir. but I never dreamt that I'd ever be talking to you." The great swimmer regarded the bov keenly. "So you're a fan, eh? And you want, my autograph." "Tf yoo please, sir." The -world's !»reat diver regarded the Ind intently. "I never jrive autographs, you kna*r, for a particular reason—"

It seemed that the little boy was going to cry. Even the swimmer seemed touched, looking into those misty blue eyes. "Very well," he said slowly, "give us your pen." The lad handed over book and pen. The big man signed with a flourish, breathed 011 the writing to blot it, closed the autograph book and handed it back. "Here you are. .And I hope you'll enjoy the show —" "Oh, thank you, sir." But he did not wait for the #how. He hurried to an apartment house at the other end of the town. The clergyman was there in a second floor room. Ho had removed his clerical collar and he was sitting by the window in his shirt sleeves, smoking a shag-filled briar. "Well, son," he queried. "Did you get it?" "Rather, dad," grinned the boy, from whom, somehow, the public school manner seemed to have departed. "It waa easy. The mug signed like old Poppleton last week." "Shut up. Xot so loud." But there was 110 need for the warning. Everybody in the house had gone to the display. "Just time to get to the bank. I lifted his cheque book this morning, son. Hand over the tracing paper. We've got to catch the 3.19 back to town, so get packed." He laughed. "I'm making this one for three thousand pounds—bearer cheque. Best scoop this summer. The life of a forger has its great moments —" He chuckled. The bov handed him the autograph hook. "Say, dad, why re you so anxious to get this one? More dangerous than any of the others —" The forger scowled. "I was at school with Killick. Taught him to swim. We were partners in this game, but he walked out on me when I got three years in the States. He's the world's best-paid highest diver, he is. But he never gives autographs, oh, dear no. Remembers the game I taught him fifteen years ago —" The boy roared with laughter. "I say. dad. this is cute. Caught him at the old game and he didn't suspect a thing." "And by the time he comes out of the water this afternoon we'll be well on the way to London —with three thousand pounds—three thousand pounds that—" He was slowly opening the autograph album, his forger's tools about him. "That rightly belongs to me," he continued. Then he turned pale, gasped and swore. The world's best-paid liiarh diver had written in the album. "He's got his daddy's eyes, Slim."