CHAPTER I.

Clutha Leader, Volume XVII, Issue 833, 4 July 1890, Page 7

CHAPTER I.

It On a Saturday afternoon in the mid-

i tile of the London season a concert was f" h<jld at Grosvenor House for the bene- | fit of a Children's Hospital. Patron-i'-Jsed by royalty and supported by §>* society,' the event was, at least from | & financial point of view, a great suc-|'7-cess; but, although a princess took part |- in a duet and a duchess played on a | violin, and other ladies of high rank fe contributed their accomplishments with i iriore or less conspicuous effect, the I great triumph of the occasion, long ff afterwards haunting the memory of |1 those who were present, was the sing-

ft ing of two homely songs by the governj|\,.vss of the Countess of Southfort's g family.

|j When Miss Neale — a delicate, very |rt pretty, and very modest-looking young |! woman. — concluded 'Robin. Adair,' Sf there was deep silence of a full minute's ?L duration : an effect in striking contrast

to the prompt appreciation awarded to

i, the ' classical ' performances which prc- | ceded. It was so odd and impressive -5. that the singer herself, instead of f courtesy ing off the stage, stood, unconl- sciously, half shy aad half e'nbarassed, h staring at the silent audience. Then t the spell was removed, and, blushing to : the eyes, she retreated before the applause.

£ Could that have been the old melody f. with which thpy had all been familiar : from childhood t It was a revelation of hidden sweetness which produced £ that silence of enchantment ; a sur- :; prise not often experienced, i To bring Miss JSTeale forward again 'f was not easily done, but the audience

would be satisfied with nothing less.

'•'_ This time she was fluttered and nervX ous ; the applause had frightenod her k_ — and, to look at her changing color

and wondering timid eyes, you could

I well have believed she did not know r why they had applaudo 1. And now, ;- statuesque save for the motion of her lips, and th'c rise and fall of her bosom, G and the tender and plaintive melody - that flowed tremulously from her sweet throat, she sang { Auld Robin Gray ' as it seemed never to have been sung . before. Sh« touched,, a chord of enthusiasm in the unemotional and cultivated audience which no prima donna could have reached with all her power. Amongst those present at the concert was a young man who went thero as a press representative. He crossed the road after leaving the great mansion, and was walking thoughtfully- and rather slo%vly along the footpath boueath tho trees in Hyde Park, when an umbrella touched him on the shoulder. 1 Oh— is it you, Mr Clayton Vhe said, slightly confused, to a middle-aged gentleman who now walked on with him. ' I hope Mary is quite well 1 I saw you at the concert.' I Mary is quite well. But you seem to have forgotten us, Frank.' ' I have been busy ; I work very hard now,' he answered, looking away with the blood mounting in his face against an unjust reproach. ' I know you do, Frank ; it is all you have to look to now. You are turning your work into money too.' I 1 suppose so ; I really don't know exactly.' ' But I know — exactly,' said the banker laughing. • I don't, as a rule, look at the current accounts of the bank's customers ; but you know T have always had an interest in yours. You ought to invest a little now.' The young man put away the subject by an impatient and somewhat disdainful gesture. { I hadn't fancied my affairs to bo so flourishing,' he dryly observed ; ' but perhaps I may call some day at the bank and see one of your people about it.' Nothing further was said for a minute or two, till Mr Clayton inquired : ' How are you going to describe Miss Neale's singing, Frank V The young man did not answer at once. 'I am not going to describe it,' lie then, said shortly. ' How could I describe it 1 I never before heard anything like it.' 'I tell you what, Frank,' said Mr Clayton, striking his u.nberella on the path, ' I would give a hundred pounds to hear her sing those two songs again.' ' Doubtless, Mr Clayton ; but you see there are things money cannot command.' *Do you mean that Miss ISTeale would not sing these songs for a hundred pounds.' ' 1 don't know to what extent such a sum would influence her — perhaps a great way. But then the effort might mar the execution. Didn't yon notice that she was quite unconscious of the effect she was producing 1 ? I believe myself, Miss Neale was not listening to her own voice while she sang.'

' I shall never forget it,' said the banker,'

They were now near the statue of Achilles, and there was the usual block of carriages in the road. The younger man wanted to get across to Piccadilly, while the other's way was down by Albert Gate. But as the former was about to retrace his steps and cross the road further back, Mr Clayton put his

hand on his arm. ' Frank,' he said very earnestly, 1 1 want you to call on me on a very special matter. I suppose it would be too much to hope that you would dine with vs — this evening. 1 '

1 Thank you, Mr Clayton ; but it is quite impossible,' he answered, powerless to conceal a look of pain. « A literary friend of mine is ourt of town, and I am doing his work for him — we go to press this evening.'

Mr Clayton did not suggest another evening, for he understood it all. k Well, well, Frank,' he said with a sigh, ' could you look in at any time ? For just a few minutes with myself?' he added.

' Yes. Would half-past 8 do. •That will do. — Wnv there is our

carriage not 30 yards off. That is my sister, Mrs Morant, who is with Mary, you must come and speak to her.'

1 A thousand pardons, Mr Clayton, I would rather not !' the young man quickly l-pplied. ' I knosv you will understand.'

' They have seen you, Frank,' Mr Clayton remarked gravely and then said no more ; for now he, too, observed — what had immediately caught the other's eye — a young man in the carriage opposice to the ladies.

' I will make any apology for you, Frank, that you wish,' said Mr Clayton. ' But lam sorry for all this. You are too hard on Claude Faune, I think.'

'Do you remember, Mr Clayton, calling me into your private room at the bank one day when I was drawing money there 1 You gave me an emphatic opinion of Claude Faune then. — I do not recall it now,' he added, with a proud flash of his eyes, 'to suggest that you were right then, and that you are wrong now, but merely to justify my own right to change my opinion — and to make you understand how entirely I am able to appreciate your present feeling. What has taken place is only what I might have looked for, so that I am not surprised.'

4lf you expected it, why did you bring him to my house and aid him with all your influenced

' I did not say I expected it. I was not thinking of such results. — But no matter, Mr Clayton,' he said, laughing, as they approached the carriage. ' I owe reproaches to nobody, and am well reconciled to life as it is.'

Was he 1 ? Mr Clayton just glanced in his face when he broke into that u.ireal laugh, and saw a great deal there. Other eyes were looking too, and the fairest face in that throng of fashion grew pink with some other feeling as well as surprise.

Frank Holmes stopped over the low railing and shook hands with tho ladies very composedly for all the war that was within his breast.

' I am very glad f o see you again, Mrs Morant — I hope you are well, Mary I—l1 — I am so busy, a man nosy, Mrs Morant, that I never meet a friend except by accident. — I am sorry you have not been to the Grosvcnor House concert.' ' We thought of going, at first,' the younger lady observed, but stopped abruptly, in some embaras=sment, and merely said, in a hesitating way : ' Was the singing very good V 'Your father will tell you about it, Mary. It was • Robin talair ' and ' Auld Robin Gray ' that worked the enchantment. — Is that too strong a term, Mr Clayton V 'Was it a princess or a duchess that enchanted V Mrs Morant asked. ' Neither ; it was only a governess. — Fancy that, Mrs Morant ! But lam sorry you missed it.' 'So am I, now. — Mr Faune,' she said, addressing the gentleman opposite, whom Frank Holmes had merely nodded to without looking at him, ' you are answerable for this. It was you who dissuaded us from going.'

'Because concerts as a rule are a bore, Mrs Morant, one cannot foresee surprises,' he replied languidly.

Holmes shook hands with the two ladies again and was turning away, when Faune, with a smile, held out his hand to him. Mary Clayton made an unconscious movement as if to prevent the meeting of the two men's hands, for she knew how one had done the deadliest wrong to the other, and was filled with a superstitious fear that something would happen. But nothing apparent happened ; Holmes, after a moment's curious hesitation, touched the offered hand looking as he did so a proud challenge in the other's effitninate eyes, which the latter lacked the courage to meet. Then taking off his hat to the ladies, he walked away.

Mary Clayton's gray eyes followed the tall retreating figure with a silent pathetic look, such as no true-hearted woman could have withheld ,011 witnessing a brave and loyal man struck down for her sake. Such are the ashes that sometimes fall on orange blossoms. The perfidy of the friend whom you have loved with your whole heart, and whom you have been generously loyal to in spite ofdisappointmehts, isless merciful than death, which at least leaves consolatory memories to soften the pain of loss. As Frank Holmes drove to his Adelphi lodgings he felt that'even resentment would, have a wholesome

and stimulating influence upon him 3 but there was no case for resentment — it was too bad even for that.

At Rugby,, he -had formed a deep and singular attachment to his schoolfellow, Claude Faune. The boy was the younger son of an earl ; but he was an

orphan, and his relations, "though aristocratic, were poor. Faune was a lad of girlish gentleness of manner — the, robust

boys contemptuously called it effeminacy — yet a certain winsomeness,j which he could exercise when he had opportunity or occasion, was hard to resist by natures partial to such blandishments. Holmes, having championed the delicate lad in one or two school quarrels, gave way to the potent influence of Faune's grateful gentleness, and grew to love the boy with more than the affection of a brother for a favorite sister. And Holmes had no brother or sister to dispute the place won by Claude Faune.

Holme's father died while the young fellow was at Rugby, and after tins event Frank did not go back to the school except to say good-bye. Faune shed tears as freely as a girl at parting from his friend. Holmes came up to London to settle matters with his lato father's solicitors, and found himself left with L6OOO in the bank of Messrs Clayton and Clayton as his entire worldly wealth. - By the advice of Mr Clayton, his father's old friend, this sum was invested so as to give an income of L 250 a-year.

Holmes took lodgings in town, and for a good while did nothing. Mr Clayton's house was always open to him ;' but Mr Clayton was a busy man and a widower, and his society of an evening, though good-natured, was not cheerful. Mr Clayton's daughter was away at school, and when she had holidays, spent them in the country.

Perhaps the greatest pleasure of Frank Holmes during his first idle year in London came from his correspondence with Claude Faune. Sometimes he saw him ; but the happiest clays Holmes ever spent were the three or four which bis school-friend passed with him before entering Sandhurst. Faune resembled in one respect the sex to which his character bore so close an affinity — he was so expensive to amuse. Frank Holmes had just received his half-year's income ; and after parting from his friend, he found that, what with amusements and expensive presents during these few days, he had but L2O left.

Holmes was surprised, but not annoyed ; ho was half sorry not to have had more money to spend on Claude Faune. A very pretty letter of thanks in a day or two more than compensated for all. Bat the incident had one important effect : to earn money now became necessary, and the first work that Holmes put his hand to proved so successful as to decide his career — if such a term is suitable to an occupation taken up and left aside by irregular starts. This first effort, unconsciously inspired by a singular knowledge he had acquired in tho course of an idle but observant year in the streets of London, was a series of magazine contributions illustrating the unravelling and detection of supposititious crimes. These attracted so much attention that when he wanted money he had now enough opportunities of earning it.

In duo course Faune obtained his commission in a regiment which was on service in India. After a few months at tho depot the young oflioor was ordered to join his corps. One week of the preparatoi'y leave ho spent with his friend in London —the last week in England. The parting of the two young men on board the white troopship at Portsmouth was more like the parting of lovers than of friends. Frank Holmes returned to his London lodgings with a heavy heart. Pie had never before felt the depth of his attachment for his schoolfellow as he did in the loneliness that foil upon him now.

Always solitary and thoughtful in his habits, Holmes, after Faune's departure from England, worked less and walked more. Being observant and full of interest in human life, he acquired, almost unconsciously, an exceptional knowledge of the highways and byways of London existence. In this way -following the bent of his talents already indicated, Holmes became deeply interested in the study of crimes. He made a name for a morning newspaper in this department. Disdaining vulgar sensation and coarse detail, he went out of tho beaten track of policemen and reporters, and twice in the course of a few months startled the professional acumen of Scotland Yard by the light of fairly directed intelligence which he threw upon dark and baffling tracks. Detective officers came to know and respect him, and he had the offer of more literary work than he cared to undertake.

These occupations supplied him with sufficient interest to fill, up to some extent the void occasioned by the absence of his friend; and as Faune, for the first few months, wrote to him almost every mail, these letters were delightful incidents in his solitary life. Faurie had the gift of writing charming letters.

And now there arose upon the life of Frank Holmes another brighter and purer influence, which was destined to change all things for him. This was Mary Clayton, the banker's only child.

But at this poiit Holmes bogan to detect trouble in his friend's letters. They grew shorter and less frequent ; sometimes weeks passed without! one, until an apparent sense of delinquency brought home a longer letter than usual, full of pretty penitence and sparkling all over with bright things.

But the sky did not keep clear : the note of trouble came .again. At last a letter arrived which would have proved an awakening blow to another man It was only a passing trouble to Frank Holmes. Faune had got into difficulties in India — he did not clearly indicate, how — and he had drawn upon his friend for LSOO. The money to meet. this draft had to-be obtained by realising a; portion of Holmes capital. Mr Clayton looked grave ; but the thing was done 3 and then Holmes .wrote v a kindly letter, to Faune to inform him that the draft had been honored, making no further reference to the matter. Nor did Faune further , refer to it beyond expressing effusive thank*.

It was a day or two after the transaction of the draft that Mr Clayton called : Frank Holmes into his private room at the bank and had that conversation, which is referred to in the early part of the present chapter.

' Frank,' he said, * who is Mr Claude Faune V

1 Oh, Claude Faune V replied Frank Holmes, laughing : ' he is an old schoolfellow, and the dearest fellow in the world.'

♦He costs you a good deal, Frank. Now, my dear boy, what I would wish to put to you is this : la Mi Faune worth it V

The young man was astonished. ♦Worth it, Mr Clayton? Why, I would give him my right hand !'

' And probably — if it were any value to him — he would accept the gift,' said the banker dryly. • I hope I am not misjudging your friend, Frank, and I know you will understand why I. mentioned this matter.* 'Of course I understand, Mr Clayton ; I know your regard for me too well,' he answered sincerely. ' I do not know Mr F,aune, and have never seen him,' continued Mr Clayton gravely. 'I judge him only from the point of view of a man of the world. I see that you give him a large part of your income— and you remember what you had to do a day or two since. I am afraid your good-nature is being deceived.' It was a difficult thing to answer Mr Clayton — the facts were with him. 'AD the same, Mr Clayton,' he said after a pause, generously warming with the words, 'if you knew Claude Faune as I do, you would be won by him just the same.' The banker shook his head. 'You couldn't help it, Mr Clayton. Faune has no money, and has expenses ; and in giving him what 1 don't .require for myself I give more pleasure to myself than to him.' 'I quite understand that, Frank. But it does not alter the case, or alter my opinion of Mr Faune.' ' Some day, Mr Clayton,' the young fellosv answered, laughing, l when you I know Claude Faune, you will change your opinion. And I shall not forget to remind you of it.' j

' Very well ; do so,' said Mr-Clayton with a sceptical smile.

The reader knows how Frank Holmes 'reminded' the banker in the Park. The incident was full of food for reflection to both of them.

' By the way,' Mr Clayton observed as Holmes was leaving the bank, ' Mary has come home to me for good. Run. over to Cadogan Place ; she will be glad to see yon.'

' I will go at once,' he said, flushing with new pleasure. ' I suppose we shall hardly recognise each other now !'

• You had better try,' replied Mr Clayton good-humoredly.