SECRETS OF SUCCESS

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 155, 4 July 1939, Page 21

SECRETS OF SUCCESS

BY T. C. H. JACOBS

THE broad, tree-lined road with its tall, well-groomed privet hedges and pretentious gateways was always a delimit to Bill Slocombe when he drove home from the city in the evening. Jt was so preen and fresh and gtmteel. furthermore, the houses which lav behind i those hedges were big houses, standing in their own ..rounds, the sort of home he had visualised for himself for more years than he eared to lemember. When he had purchased The Towers be ielt that tiie /enith of his ambition had been reached, and now at .V, he was more than a little inclined to sit I'aek and sun himself in the plow of his success. y wty ypara a „ () h(?() a handcart along this very road. To-dav. -\lr. William Slocombe, ,(.[•., W as (I rivinIns own eight-cylinder car. That was what he called getting on in the world! Had he been less engrossed with that secret pride in his achievement which lie road always inspired, he would have '"■<■'• quicker to observe the figure which •-tepped sud.lci.lv into the glare of his headlights from iiehind one of the trees .'here was ,1,,,! fatal fraction of a second "J wliK-1, muscles landed behind brain, ■id though „s f,,ot plunged automatically upon the brake and the bi- car came to an abrupt halt, he was u"split second too late. He felt no bump, 'but he saw the ,pure lurch back against the c stlllul)le a)|d fall . n a

Slocombe came out of the reverie with glH.ced back along the road. He had glance''";'*?'- ,>' ,<,,,k -»«»" 'I'** in aat < IC \'"V l ' ,i -'" ( '' »pr*Hdc,!gl,Ml •» h -" att.tude horribly of Xo man rises from the gutter to com"i.uul of big business by strict observance ot the Ten Commandments. Bin si.Ko„,|,e was no exception to the rule His nnmedmt.. reaction to the accident .wiuer'", 1 '"- • J '' ,,r,, fl ' W ~,i" t ' "".ments ""? <'-'"iniUf and caution fought a losing battle with humanity, and the,], -vung open .lie door and stepped to kneel beside the victim of j,L eai'eUs rel'ie'Mhat S" with 'oner tiiat the man was alive. A shaft of moonlight «ti-n,.i- *i . i dm ~.:i c i ■— *'*- stiucK tl rouarh f--:; , Tf.:;ied i, b,:;;-, 1^iLl;:;;^ «p on either side of the mouth like .«,,: of brackets. His hair was merg"g f.om „•„„ ~-ey ,„ a |i„ ht ,,,. lr[ . ( 7 y i.«t would soon be whi.e. A man about his,,,, an, „,,„ Io(lk , (| as |f hc . ( , - p. ■ Tv t..i,Hl, break. His .lothes were <><hll.v onough. ho „.„,.,, „ ( .„ ]|ai . aml t . e • • ■ and the collar looked clean.

, Bill Mocombe's fat. red f H «. e creased "' « wide grm. He had been nearly .10 years of age before he had worn either a collar or a tie. except on Sundays. Ihe man stirred and opened his 'eves. Slocombe put an arm under his shoulder and lilted hi m into a sitting position. "That's better!" he exclaimed in his loud, cheerful voice. "How d'vnu feel/" '"\nur wing caught mv hip," replied the tramp, and Bill Slocmnbc received u second surprise, for the voice was soft and cultured. (His own voice was loud, and under stress of emotion he was liable to lose what little polish he bad attained.) "I'm all right. [ don't think I'm hurt, anyway." Slocombe was at heart a sportsman. The tramp's attitude to the accident appealed to him. "Here." he said, "come in the car to my house, just up the road. You want a stiff drink, old cock." He got a muscular arm around the tramp's shoulder and lifted him bodily into the car. The man sank down upon the cushions like ony exhausted. . Slocombe "s eyes narrowed as he stared at him.

"Drink!" ho exclaimed, "it's food you want, ain't it?" The tramp smiled, a wry distortion of the lips. "Your diagnosis is probably correct," lie agreed. Bill Slocomlie's ambition did not, as yet. include a butler, but the trim maid who opened the door was too well trained to exhibit any surprise at her master's companion, whom he more than half-carried into the dining room. "Dinner. Mary," ordered Slocombe. "As quick as you can. there's a good girl." Then, as she hurried away, lie looked down at the tramp sunk in the deep comfort of an armchair. "How is it?" he asked. "You nre very considerate to one in my unfortunate position, sir. 1 am much restored, thank you." "Good! We'll have a spot/of dinner. The missis is away to-night, so I'll be glad of your company. Struck a bad patch, ain't you ?" "My life has been a succession of bad patches, sir. I might even call myself the victim of circumstances and education." "Education!" exclaimed Bill Slocombe scornfully. "I never had no education, and look how I have got on. Real education is the market place and the street. Buying and selling, that's the stuff When I was a nipper I knew the value

SHORT STORY

in exchange of every marble in the village. Lite, old chap, is your slave not your master,." Hill Slocomhe stood with his back to the fireplace, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets, and rocked himself backwards and forwards on heel and toe. He loved to hear himself talk, and it was seldom he had such an audience. The tramp looked up with a flicker of interest in his tired, grey eyes: •"What is the secret of success, sir?" he asked quietly. Bill Slocombo threw out his chest and smiled: "Three things. Judgment, industry, and health, but the first is the big quality. To know when to seize opportunities. Now, if somebody had knocked me down to-night I'd have soaked 'em good and plenty in compensation. That is, if it had been my fault," he adde'd hastily, and felt* rather relieved that dinner was now served. ••Well, let's eat." Neither Bill Slocombo nor his guest had time for conversation during the meal. Slocomhe never divided his attention when food was before him. and his guest could not remember when he had last eaten a square meal. The tramp was still eating when his host's needs were satisfied. Slocomhe wiped his mouth on the napkin and regarded him with that inward glow which comes of having done a kind and sportsmanlike action. He picked up his brandy glass, gently swirling its contents: - ] "Ah." he said reminiscently, "this was when I hadn't two coppers to knock together. But 1 had judgment and f had courage, and I worked like a nigger, 1 did. But don't confuse courage with stupidity. Courage can never be divorced from judgment."

Again the tramp looked up with a flicker of interest on his lined face. "I seem to have heard that before somewhere, sir," he said mildly. "So you believe, that success depends on judgment alone. What of honesty?" Rill Slocombo grunted, an indeterminate sound which might have meant anyt lung: "Honesty is the best policy," he quoted. "It's a silly mistake to go to ipiod. The man who works and saves and puts his savings into trade gets on.'' He took another deep sip of his brandy. Cood brandy, old and mellow. It sort of made him feel sorry for the poor wretch silting opposite to him. \o guts, you could see it in his face. Public school man probably. What was it his book s;iid about public school men? He pushed back his chair and went over to a bookcase in the corner, from which he took a small volume. The tramp was watching him curiously: "Here's a book," be announced, "that's got the real goods. That look's been a. wonderful help to me. See. signed by the author himself oil the title page." "You knew the author?" asked the tramp casually, more, it seemed, from politeness than from any desire to know. '•Sure." lied Bill Slocomhe boastfully. "Listen here what he says. 'The public school boy is one of a type. The individual educates himself. The individual will always defeat the type.' See. sound stulT. Then again, 'The certainty of half a loaf isn't hotter than the probability of a whole one.' Oct the idea? Co after the big stuff, see? That's what I done every time! Here's some more: 'Nothing but fluidity of judgment can ever lead a man to success.' Colly, that's true! Trim your sails to the wind. Between you and me, old chap, this book has been my vade—■ what is it?'' "Vade mecum, T expect you mean," smiled the tramp. "May I sec it." He held out his hand, and Bill Slocomhe passed it to him with a little triumphant flourish. For some moments the tramp glanced over the pages and lie smiled with a smile that did not touch his eyes. Then he looked up and said very deliberately: "This is the most litter nonsense that was ever written."

Bill Slocoinlif's fat. red fiu-e contorted itself in an nut raffed scowl. '•What rt'you moan*;'' he demanded "There's more solid common sense in that tliere book —" ".My dear sir, it is the outpourings of a fool!" interrupted the tramp very quietly, but with something in his tone which made Bill Slocombe draw rein upon his rising indignation. He observed him suddenly slip a piece of pencil from his tattered pocket, and before lie could prevent it the pencil was. flying over the paper. "Hero!" he roared, and with an oath he snatched the book from the other's hand. The tramp sat back and smiled as lie watched the expression upon his host's face chaiiffe from the fiercest indignation to. one of bewilderment. Bill Slocombe stared incredulously at the title page where the author had Kiprned his name. But now there were two signatures, so alike as to be indistinguishable the one from the other. He raised his eyes to stare at the tramp, watching him with an expression of amused contempt. "You!'' lie ejaculated. The tramp nodded his grey head slowly, three times.