BEST SELLER

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 191, 15 August 1939, Page 17

BEST SELLER

Short Story

AS Mr. Vernon Hope, the latest successful novelist, drove his new and glittering car through the West End traffic he not only revelled in the glorious, sunshine of the afternoon but also in that bathing so delightfully his own personal existence. He assured hinTself that he had nothing to fear now. Why, indeed, rdiould it he otherwise? With his car (swinging into Charing C ross IJoad, his eyes wore greeted by the sight of a hook shop—of many book shop*. Above the facade of one mid another hung an ornamental placard of some size, one of the various mean* by which his astute publisher w;i«i making so much money lor them both. The placard read: —

Selling in Thousands Hook of the Year THK VAMPIKK. By Vernon Hope. Quite a good book. too. He had realised as much while typing away ill its three hundred and fifty odd pagee. And at that time a good book had been a \ ital recensity indeed. Old Murclicssnn. head of the publishing house whose imprint whs f union*, hud warned Mr. Vernon Hope that—if he wished to remain in the firm's list —he really must write something worth while. "If you must give the public tripe— an<l I agree that they lap it up as a rule—at least let them have some onione to give the dish flavour," old Murcb.es»nn had commented dryly. "The Vampire" was duly delivered by a quaking Mr. Horn , , who ran on short rations till decision »u made, and was still not a little bit etnnned by the overwhelmingly favourable verdict. That of dry old Mr. Mtirehesson in the first instance had been embarrassing enough. Contract ready to be signed, he had greeted Mr. Hope with both hands extended in joy, thrust him into a chair, exalted him from the hospitality of a mere cigarette to that of a choice cigar, almost embraced him. '•This is the real stuff. Hope. Why have you been hiding your light, under a bush for «o long, my dear fellow? Tlih is as unlike your usual work as anything possibly could b< , . It'* <roing to make a name for y<ll1 —at long last." A name? Mr. Hope's only modest desire, when delivering the manuscript, had included no more than a reasonably good sale of the book, repaying hi* advance and perhaps earning something in the way of royalties. What actually happened after publication positively hud him scared numb. Followed a veritable avalanche of book-critics, eulogies, hack e<l by almost unanimous recommendations from various literary societies, resulting in phenomenal snlex. Of course it was a good book. But. as Mr. Hope wa* bound to realise, this unexpected publicity and popular approval had mu"h of its origin apart from the rfnalify of the work. Tt so happened that about the time of publication a campaign ajjaiiift fraudulent sham-pushing had been in progress. And the central character- the villain of Mr. Hope's !>ook with so appropriate a name —wn< a gentleman of that ilk.

"An admirable portrait of a popular menace. Small investors would do well to read this story of how the simpleminded are robhed by the astute.jugglers in finance. Vivid writing helpful in educating the public mind by way of fiction." So the Pres*. And thi« afternoon, in his new and glittering car. an ebullient —if nomewhat dazed—-Mr. Hope was returning from a literary luncheon. given in his honour, whereat he had bepn greatly prafaed. had responded modestly, and was heartily glad it was all over. In fact, an he pa»**ed into the smart little entrance ball of the bachelor service flats off Piccadilly, where now he waA housed in all his glory, he contemplated hiding himself away for a while in the country, at some place quite unknown, where he would not be pestered. He was reminded the more of this need by the approach of the uniformed attendant with a message. "A lady and gentleman to see you. air. A Mr. and Mr«. Threep." "Threep! Don't know the name at all," Mr. TTope snapped, after probing a mind full of name*. "And I don't want to see anyone, anyhow." "Mr. Threep said it was particularly urgent, sir—a matter of great important to you. A personal matter, he *aid." "Oh. well. Perhaps I'd better find out what he wants. Where is he?" The attendant seemed to dissolve into thin air. leaving Mr. Hope confronted by two people. Naturally, he looked at the lady first. He found her to be rather a pretty little thing, doubtWs beyond her twenties, but attractive with Titian-coloured hair and very intelligent eye*. Her companion, somewhat older, had the air of a prosperous business man, with shrewd eyes, a singularly disturbing smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. "So —you are the great Mr. Hoj>e?" he greeted. "Delighted to meet you. My wife and I hoped for a little talk with you about that very remarkable book of yours." "A« a matter of fact, much n« appreciate your description of it. T can assure you that mv book is the very last thing T want to talk about to anyone—" Mr. Hope was protesting, politely but firmlj', when the other interrupted— "I can believe it, my dear sir. The laurel* of the great hang heavily upon them. But, in this case of my wife and myself—we would not have added to your burden, only that we have an important personal interest in calling on you." There wae something eo quietly insistent in his epeech and manner that impressed Mr. Hope. Hβ gestured . invitingly towards a email and comfortable lounge off the entrance hall, and led the way there. It happened to be conveniently empty. "And may I ask what is this personal interest of yours?" he inquired as they seated themselves in a corner.

"How you came to write the book," observed the other with his queer little smile. For a moment Mr. Hope stared at him blankly, taken eback. not without reason. He held his br«ath. while his mind worked quickly, careful of the words ho chose in reply. He hedged with a question. "Exactly what do you mean by that. Mr. —er— —" "Thrrep," supplied the other, amiably. "The name isn't, I suppose, familiar to y °"l'm sure that it isn't. It's unusual. And I—as a novelist—meke a study »-f names. That one I never have come aerobe to my recollection." "And you've never met me in your 1 life before, I suppose 1"

By BASIL HAVE

There was something about the man which seemed vaguely familiar, though .Mr. Hope could not clearly delinc whit it was. All he did know was that he could not remember ever having met tnis persistent person before, tmd he said as much. '•Queer, very queer!" The other murmured in a puzzled way, adding: ■■because, you see, you're drawn such 11 perfect likeness to me in Unit remarkable hook of yours. At least, 1 should j have said —a physical likeness in '-'our , shady share-pushing villain, Mr. Deep j you know." It daw nod suddenly on Mr. Hope tho.t this might account for that vague seiHC of familiarity which obsessed him. though he still could not explain how it ran Id be as the man said. He laughed airily: "Come conic, my dear sir," he sa.il. "As I've told you. there is no recollection in my mind that we over mot before this afternoon. I am <|uite convinced about tlwt. Jt i-u"t therefore possible that I could have drawn my Mr. Deep on you, i< it '!'' "Well, if you didn't, the tiling certailv needs sunn: other explanation." the man shrugged. "Hero am I. Albert Threep, actually photographed in words all through your book as Mr. Deep. Like him, too, I happen to be an outride broker. Why. Deep's house is as like mine as two pins, even to Ihe place where we live, thinly disguised under the name of Brickeilham "' "But. my dear sir " Mr. Hope was protesting, aghast and vehement, only to be ruthlessly stopped: "Fin afraid I am going to be rat'ier 'dear' to you. Mr. Hope. You see, in addition to all this, you put into the mouth of your Mr. De-p quite a number of little sayings nft<\ expressions, and you suggest in him certain small mannerisms which all my friends and business acquaintances recognise at once as di-tinctlv mine. Strange, isn't it V Mr. Hope had been sitting in a sf.i'e bordering on collapse, hut tic pulled himself together. Only the tiny beads of sweet on his forehead indicated his feelings. He stimulated a calm, cool imimman sense. "It all sounds very strange ind dreadful," he presently said, "but I can assure you that it is a matter of p'ire coincidence —the only explanation I r<lll possibly give. And"' —he had a siidd-n inspiration—"you seem to have overlooked the statement on one of the title pages to the effect that all the characters in the book arc entirely fictitious, having no reference to any living person."

"A clf'\?r and often successful safeguard. Mr. Hope,' , chuckled the other. "But I am afraid you won't away with it this time. 1 am. as I told you, .in outside broker, but 1 am one with a very solid reputation, and I Hatter myself—respected by all my busi:ic-s and other friends. To find myself swing pilloried so plainly as your Mr. Dei-p, a shady sliare-pusher ' "Albert dear," intervened hi* wife soothingly, a*> his voice rose ju.-l when other people were entering tin , lounge. Mr. Hope hastily made u suggestion, hot with anxiety and alarm. •■Wouldn't it 'be better if we went up to my room*, where we would not be interrupted?" he asked. "Arid what arc you proposing to do about this little matter?" lie a.-ked further in the privacy of his unite, "What do you think';"' retorted the other. "I've already consulted my solicitor, lie says I have a perfectly good case, that I can have the «nl<- of the book stopped, besides claiming material damage. 1 noticed al.-o in today's papers that negotiations for film right* are in hand- —"'

'"One moment;" interposed Mr. Hope, now frankly beside !iinn>clf. "Surely von don't want to ruin m< , , my dear Mr. Threep, as you will do if matters go so far ax you suggest? Isn't there .some possible* way in which—as between ourselves— we en n come to term**, without that unnecessary and harmful publicity? | It would be a terrible thing for me " j "I have, first of all, to eon.-ider my j wife: and myself," tho other waxed aside Mr. Hope's torrent of words. "Wei have both been very distressed. T am I not so mire that I have not suffered! financial lows already. But -we are not unreasonable people; my dear wife and I. Far be it from us to ruin such a clever young man at the moment he has acquired fame, end—l should imagine— a certain amount of fortune." Mr. Hope rrinyed at the silken satire behind that last suggestion. He knew that he was in a cleft *tick. But, above all, his anxiety was to prevent anyone from knowing about it. This was the type of publicity doing no author any good. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of terms, .Mr. Threep," he urged. "Candidly, I don't want to have to light your case, if we can agree on that." "For my part,"' the other shrugged. "I am inclined io prefer a peaceful settlement. My wife and I are. in fact, thinking of leaving quite shortly for the States, where any unpleasantness in account of your book would not bother us. It would facilitate matters for u*. as well as for you, I trust, if we call the case off in the sum of two thousand pounds ''." "T should naturj'.ily want some written assurance that this matter wae at an end, Mr. Threep " "We are both men of business, Mr. Hope. Your cheque in exchange for my quittance."

"Then"—Mr. Hope leaned forward eagerly—"lot us waste no time in settling the matter of this highly regrettable coincidence." Which last word, as later Mr. Threep and his -wife passed out from that block of bachelor service flats, the former repeated with a cynical little chuckle. "Coincidence! Thai wae a good name for it, sweetheart." "It was all I could do, Albert, to stop myself from coming out with the truth,' , she said in a soft, attractive voice. "I would have done too, only I'd promised faithfully to leave it to you."' "And we've managed very well out of it. -Mary, don't you think, the way I handled it?" he chuckled with delight, "two thousand pounds " ''That's nothing compared with what he's nutting out of the book," ehe reminded him almost fiercely in resentment. ! '"Maybe, laee." He squeezed her arm afl'crtionatoly. "But, if we'd gone baldheaded at him with the truth, as you wanted me to do, what proof had we In-hind \\<"!'' "That doesn't make it any the easier for me, dear," she said wistfully, then added angrily: '"I just hate to think of that man petting away with the honour and glory of that book. Still more so now I've fievn him. Of all the horrid, conceited creatures, and nothing but a hiw-down cronk as well! Picking up my manuscript on a bus top and deliberately stealing it " '"Darling, you mimt admit there was no address on it," lie reminded her in turn. "It was your iirst effort, and you hadn't the least hope of selling it, i|iiite unknown a-t you were " "Was that any reason why he should Meal it, and make all thie money out of it?" "With a very uneasy conscience, my deai-. Didn't you see what a funk he was in at lirst? Wondered if we knew the inner hi.-toi v of that book, of course. When I tackled him about having met me before, he thought the blow had <(inie. He was tremendously relieved when he found we were only after damages for libel. Why, he was so eager to pay up and keep everything quiet, that lie didn't even trouble to verify who we were." -And—talking about libel—if you'd ever had that book published yourself, liliclling your own husband as it did, even though you never looked at it that wav, a nice sort of a wife you'd have been," he added, and laughed. "As it i.-. \oii and I arc walking off with two thousand pound* after accusing him of the libel. An entirely fictitious busmen all round, if you a«*k me."