THE GARDEN OF LIES.

Evening Star, Issue 12028, 28 October 1903, Page 2

THE GARDEN OF LIES.

[AD Bights Reserved.']

By Justus Muss Fobkak (Author of ‘Cupid’s House Party, etc.).

There came a chorus of shouts and laughter from the loungers upon the terrasse without, a snatch -of maudlin song in a voice I seemed to know, and a very tall young man broke into the room, tacking like a yacht in a heavy sea, and hove to with a sudden lurch before the throne of tire majectic Dame Du Cpmptoir that faced the door.

“Beautiful lady,’ cned the young man. gazing passionately up into the alarmed countenance of the patronne, and making a theatrical gesture of hand to heart; “Beautiful lady, be not ’f-fluid ! ’S’ only—me! Light that ’tracts moths ’n’ HP bugs if flutter round it, ’traeted me way from Boulevard St, G Lira in Couldn’t stop ’way fm you.” And he swept her a bow that nearly dragged his black curls in the dust of the floor, the very caricature; of a bow, such as one might see.upon a music hall stage or ia a farce comedy. “ Oh—oh—ch fail', oil sweet, said be tearfully. “ W lien I do 1-look on thee, Tu whom all joys so well agree, Heart ’u’ soul do sing in me,”

Cpon my word, the rascal might have made his fortune on the stage. He had a voice of a quality, of a resonance, of a timbre! A voice to mg tenderness from a plaster cart.

I have said that he was a very fid I young mam He had a singularly lilhc. supple figure, slender at waist and hip?, but very broad in the shoulders. He might have been a. ’varsity oarsman. He wore no beard or moustache, but the hair upon Lb, head was black and waving, a lines t curly, and- random locks of it fell down over Its forehead nearly to the straight brows. He had a pair of merry grey eyes, deep set, nod a mouth that seemed to have been foresd into a sternness of line unnatural to it, despite the firm square jaw beneath. His smile was the sjmh- of a child—l have nevii. own anyone who could resist it—hut abrut his eyes were circles and lines of Hi-living that 'would never be wholly erased. He looked a strange mixture of opposites, of warring dements, this drunken young reprobate with the thrilling voice who pressed his heart under his two hands, and quoted the hue Sir Philip Sydney to a buxom and perturbed Frenchwoman who couldn’t understand.

“ Mais tenez, tenez!” cried the patronne at last, laughing and holding her ears. “Allez vous cm M. Mallory! Yous n’erabarrasez.”

The tall young man turned away with a gloomy wave of the hand, and gazed abstractedly down the room. Ho canght mv ive for a moment and bowed with an impressive dignity. “Drunken swine;’ - growled MacKenzie. “Who is he?”

“ Why.” said I, looking after the tall young man, who had seated himsqlf at one of the little tables by the opposite wall, ““why, he’s a queer lot, a most uncommon queer lot. His name is Mallory, Denis Mallory, and he. comes, I’m told, of a very good family indeed somewhere in Ulster—he’s Irish, of coarse. He was a sub. in a cavalry regiment at one time, hut he got himself into some sent of a scrape, ran up debts that his governor couldn’t or wouldn’t pay off. and he had to sell out. Infancy it broke him up a good bit, made him lose his grip, for he’s been a prettv fairly hard lot ever since. That happened five or she years ago. He’s been the approved type of soldier of fortune for the most pan—the sort you read about in the story hooks. He’s fought from Venezuela to South Africa, and from the Soudan to China. There's no doubt that he’s a good soldier, and I greatly fear there’s little doubt that he’s ;i good nothing else. Yes, he’s the unproved typo of chevalier dTirdi’strie, suck as you mad of, with the difference that, he’s no bettor off for his adventures. The story-book heroes have always a breast covered with medals, and a amassed. Poor Mallory has neither. I suppose there’s no man iu Paris to-day who has fought in more little wars, braved more diverse dangers, or made love to more women, and "yet he’s wh;rf. you see over there—a dissolute young reprobate, with the soul of n. poet, the tongue of an angel, the record of a Cesar Do Bazan, and seldom a franc to bless himself with. He ekes cub a hand-to-mouth Existence,, I’m told, by writing sketches for some London, journal. Aye. aye. he’s a queer lot—a most uncommon oncer lot! Everyone knows him here,, and everyone despises him, and yet—why. curiously enough, everyone has a sucuKmr.' fondness for him too. He’s a rogue, if you like; hut a debonair rogue, it' can’t be denied. Moroover. he 3 nor. a. reourKire]. vou’ll understand, dissipated though he” bo. He’s sti3, in a way, a gentleman. Yo one ever knew him to lie or take, an unfair advantage.” MacKenzie slicok a heavy head. A wasted life.” wnd he. “A man o’ roves to wreck himuelf for the love o’ excitement aid drink. Tis a sad case.”

Colonel Yon Alt dor? was leaning forward, elbows upon the little table. among the glumes, and fingers absently stroking hr? ' ■ -W-h'.i moustache There wn.s a curious cxTtrerdcn wpcm his f.vce—a most canons erpresmon. His eyes, narrowed a bit, were upon young Denis Mallory across the room. Ail at once his thought burst upon, my mind. It was as if he had spoken it by word, I met his eyes excitedly, and for an instant the thing seemed possible.

“■Qur man,’’ raid Yon Altdorf, quietly. “Am no, __ no! ” I cried. “ He—be TTOuldn't do it. Why, man. it’s almost a ofecfcgoards trick, imposing upon a helpless •wranan so. I’ve told yon 'that, lie’s still in si way a gentleman. He’d never play a ■trick upon a voma To, r-c, it’s * o ut of the question. I was mad to suggest such si scheme; it couldn’t bp done—Mallory ■wouldn’t do it anyhow, ”

“It’s got to he" clone,” said Colonel Yon Altdorf from between closed teeth. “I tell yon we’re in a desperate way. It’s plaviug a trick npou a woman to save her reason, H/na don’t, appreciate the state she’s in. It’s a desperate game, hat it’s the only one to lie played, and your young adventurer yonder is the man to play it. After all, it’s no such blackguardly thing, and what responsibility there is will be- shared amongst ns all. If he plays the part it’s wa who lead Mm to it. And the kdv shall he told the truth as soon as she’s able to bear it” I took a long breath. “It's not to my liking,” sold T, but. I corgi; t young Malloryn eve across the rcoro, and raised a beckoning hand. He came over to our table a bit unsteadily, tacking as before, like a yacht in a heavy sea, and stood with a hand upon the back of a chair, smiling down npon us all, the cheery, confidential smile of intoxication—save that with, him it had a certain personal quality, a magnetism, a sort of sweetness. “Mallory.” said I, “I want to present von to Sir (bavin M|jpKcnzie and to Colonel Yon Altdorf, of the Hovodnian service.” Young Mallory bowed easily to Sr (bavin, -and saluted Von Altdorf with an instinctive drawing up, a stiffening into military carriage. Then he lurched into a dtair and smiled again.

“ A congress o’ n-naifons, gentlemen,” raid he. “ A c-conference o’ the Powers. Ton my—my faith, you’ll not find four races in four men gathered mound one table every day. Scotland ” He beamed groggily upon gj r Gavin, “Hoots, mon, will ye no’ dance us a ’fling?” MacKenzie stiffened in his chair, bat I hacked at hia shins under the table, and he sank back again, “ England,’ said young Mallory, and wagged a sorrowful head at me. “Qh, man,_ had joy the sins o’ your country upon your head this night, it’a heavy you’d be! Novodnia —may site never go to fatten the vrliite bear’s belly!” There was a fervent “amen” from Von Altdorf, “An’ old Ireland, Gold bless her green shores! What? A drink did you say, Creighton? No man can boast he’s heard me cry nay to that call A little wine for me stomach’s sake. Egad, ’tis naught else I’ve had for me stomach’s laker SBKeuthe morning. Here garcon, make

that wine absinthe, Pernod, man, an* look sharp! I’m in need of it.” “Great Heaven, Mallory!” said I, “do you mean to say you’ve eaten nothing since morning? Y ou’re drinking on an ♦empty stomach? Why, if« suicide! Absinthe, too, and in the evening. Here, garcon, deux sandwiches pour mousier. tont a I’instant! ’’

He fell upon the sandwiches when thev came, most ravenously, huge, thick, and unpalatable though thev were, and never Pa™*** until he had finished them. .The three of us watched him in silence. Ty el \ when he had made an end, he drew U P with a little sigh of comfort. ‘Lad manners, gentlemen,” said lie, smiling again. He seemed mors himself; the food had .taken off the edge of his intoxication. “ Bad manners, I grant you—but faith, I needed the sandwiches. By some extraordinary mischance I neglected to lunch or dine. I foget the reason. Ah. yes,, 'twas a pour little devil of a model out of work, who needed the dinner worse than I. An' then—why, then, what with a pair of abdntlies on an empty stomach —or muylie three—l—l went off the hook just, a wes hit. fi. may he that I'm a trilie screwed, just a. trilie. hut you’ll not mind — ’tw an accident, not a habit.”

lie caught up the tumbler of opalescent, greenirii-yeilow liquor that stood at his elbow and nailed upon ii loudly. “-My.only friend,” said he in that wonderful, deep, leader voice of his—upon my word, hr might have Iteon mulling love .-peceltos to a sweet heart.

The ojilv friend nut o' them all who’s

.'■food by me, good limes and I ml. You've mvi-i- failed mo yet. Gentlemen, I’ve wrn■■u iv l and I’ve, fought front Caracas toLadyand from Khartoum to Tientsin, ami I’ve chummed up with more people Li an 1 dare say, but on ray faith in Heaven —if I’ve any left—ihere's never a man o' them has stuck by me, never a woman but.’s played me false.” He smiled down upon ihe glinting liquor in the glass. ■ ’io Hie green devil, gentlemen.” he cried: ‘‘the green devil who stands by no-, ‘uir weather or foul, who slaps me on the shoulder when I'm down on me luck, who takes me by the lumd and leads me into Paradise wken the world’s bitterest. lo the little green devil who’s a great green god—may lie ever reign !’’ He tilted the glass till there remained but half ils charge, and dropped back in Ills chair wicli his chin upon lus breast. I leaned over the table and laid a hand upon uis arm.

*’ Mallory,” said 1, “ Mallory !” and shook the arm gently. “ Pull together a bit, man. There's work forward; there’s a great game afoot—a risky game, Mallory, a desperate game, such ms yon love. It ■wants a dear head and a ready tongue, aye, and a ready arm too, maybe, in the event of certain contingencies. A bold mans wanted. Come, are you with ns? - ’ “My only friend.’’ said voting Mallory, shaking his head sadly. “ The little green devil who’s a great green god—aye. a great green go<L ’ His voice died aware rn nuirmnrings, and Iris eyes saw beyond us, far beyond the Cafe d’Alwicon—into Paradise, perhaps, I looked at MacKenzie in despair, but MacKenzie was writing upon the back of il v 'sTing caf d. He beckoned a waiter. " The pharmacy at the fool of the Avenue du Maine,’’ said he. ‘‘and quickly.” Ihe distance was short, am] the man was hackjn a jew moments with a small vial, rod labelled. MacKenzie poured a. few drop.; of the liquid into a. wineglass of water. It sent up a keen and pungent oner, as of ammonia.

, ’_’ Drink tub-,’’ said he, setting the glass oHoie young Mallory. And Malloiv drank. his eyes still beyond ns, far bevond the Cine d’Alenccu.

but in a moment ihe eve.-, returned, narrowed, frowned a bu. Re turned to the hoots man nmemslv.

M by, tis a queer drink, your liquor, man—uncommon nasty-*.,,d 1 owe von : you’ve waked me from a in-nit ae 1 i"hUu 1 reverie,'’ itoy smiled across at me.

\nu spoke of a game, Creighton," he ran. a desperate, game. I heard all year rr°. ’ hut— ' ve,L th ". fact is. I was in *’ a ’™ rnomenl, and returnuir was not to thought of. A game, mv’boy? -•e,hear it. I’m none so sure bat I’m tired of games. Out with it.” I guaic'-il at MadKenzus and Yoa Alfcdorf, rK ' <tol. And then, vny briefly, an;, ao.dmg ]um eyes with mine, I told young ill tilo sto! 7 «f Prince Kail of vi-wcanui and of the unhappy bdv who -uni boon made bis wife. Once, during tie !-■* ' . *^oved tlie wine-ofey- toward Alactoenzio, never taking his eyes from mine, a.to. M.-KVAcnzie dropped into it a bit of the pungent fluid fr om |p t[o via qjpq j t up m dU:i\ and nodded u]/pi m ovinulv vcuc-u ihe liishma.u drank-. ° ’’ .. "*>■ ,y°? Hee - -Marioty." 1 concluded, '.iteres bpt the one thing to be done, a doupwate thing maybe, and God knows how it may fall out, but the only thing.” T’w a long time after T finished lie rat sth-iiu. staring at (he wall and chafin'-' Ids u r.o hard.- together gently, as they rotoed rrpcn ho tabic;; edge, but he wandered in no reveries Hus time, he peeped into no heavens led by his great green god. His ram seemed to have changed to that of anotuer man—keen. frownin'- a bit mouthed, and thoughtful, P aT You Altdor-fs eyes glisten excitedly, and even old MacKenzie’s face had gu.ined a bit of eaijer color.

young Mullen- at last, nod(ori" his head. “Yes, you have the trick, it s the only thing to do, though, as votive said' God Ivnow-i how it may fall out. It’s the only thing'—art now, who’s to do it?"’ “ "Why—why Terr. man I cried. “ Win-, Y ,u , of course; didn’t you understand? iO.ure tlie only one could oirrv it through.”

Ho stared at m© an instant amzedly.'' “Ir said ho.. "I?” with, a little’rnbeuoving langh. Gome, man, you’re jokin-r icm don’t mean it sWionsly? Ido the thing? Oli, I say!' and lia.bnrsfc out. in a roar of laughter that died sway cjnicklv. I cTm!i. the uevift co-nrsc of Ins thonehts as '.edl as if he had spoken them. I conld s.e ;um ptetorag the possibilities of the scheme, balancing its risk's, gloating over its danirers. It was jnft the rccldess enterprise to take a:’, rainy. n-« I had known before I called min across the room.

ihen all at once Ljs face Irecaine puzzled. ■” 1- hul, I ."ay ! ho cried, “ whv didn’t om- of you go in for the part? Wliv did .. an ding in;-, into it? VV h y not von, Crckhtur, or you. Colonel Yon"Altdorf? I don’t quae understand.”

WM. you see,” raid I, stammering a lit anc turning color. I’ve no doubt, “yon see, I 9«dfln't do it because ” But Mackenzie interrupted me. «>T Tller,! n ; rc «ce.lh:iit reasons,” raid he. -»o u:e going into them. You arc the man to do it, Mr Mallory. You’re used to deoficuit situations an' dangers. Let he at that! -•;ow. well make it a business matter. We, stand ready to offer you—no, wait, wait a bit, * te cllcr yen one thousand francs a month for your services. ’flint will do awav with your havin’ to follow your regular vocation, for no could not think of hrin■ r i:i’ you into tne afTa.ir, that is rone of vomw on other grounds,”

llm angry Audi died slowlv ;lW av from young Mallory’s face as he considered.

, VH\v, to be sure.” said he thoughtfully, “ 1 va my living to irrdre, such as it hj, am} ■ihi, anil let ire* ont of tir.it enrred nowspaiiep ■ , ' l thousand a month—foriy rpniH—v-hy. t lint’s n luxury. And the checker game again-—lives and deaths. f! v till' sunk:, it gyres- me a genuine thrill. A gnirh .eye and a ready band and a, mind !■>-..;m three ways at once. Done by Gw gods', mnk. gentlemen! Pm your man.” And ho laughed aloud joyously, and put out a hand to MncTCi-nzte oyer the tabid. But -MaeKotzie rw busy with the hi" meerschaum just then.

-As foi Von Altdorf, he was suddenly engaged hi rolling a, cigarette, which seemed to demand his whole attention. And 1 oh, I take no pride in telling it now—l was doing something wholly unnecessuiy to n.y cravat. And my checks burned ml. I was nob grown old in such matters like Afire.Kcnzie and Von Altdorf.

Young Mallory looked at our faces quickly, iu turn, then down at his outstretched hand, and no again. He fi-owned a little, and his- eyes were puzzled, hurt like a child's. He drew the hand back to hint slowly, and touched it with the other, as if he thought there mutt be something wrong with it. °

,I V/hy—gviiilomc-.n,” In- said, in a little surprised, stammering tone, “ I—l don’t under ” Then all at' once he halted aud

remained silent for a long time. His face flushed crimson and paled again. “All!” said he at last, very low, “Ithink I-'geo Fm the—cat’s paw ! You wouldn’t do the thing yourselves, it’s too —low. It’s a bib of dirty work that you think nc—gentleman could bring himself to, so yon wouldn’t do it—and—-and you won’t take the hand of the man who will do the thing. You were looking for a—a blackguard, and yon—chose me! Good God in heaven !” lie dropped his face into his hands for an instant I think I have never seen such shame, such hnxmiliati<m, in any eyes. I couldn’t bear to meet them.

“You—chose me?”* said bo again, in a half whisper. “Why it is a rather blackguardly thing to do, isn’t it, deceiving a woman? She’d trust us—me, utterly, wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t have a suspicion. She’d be happy, 1 expect, beautifully happy with it all, till—till she was told. Oh, it’s damnable!” He caught up the half filled tumbler of absinthe and drained it at a gulp. “ Damnable !” said ho, a little thickly, “ damnable!” Then, alter a moment, he began to laugh, and his eyes grew heavy and a bit glazed once more.

It was as if MacKenzie’s drug had held him for the few moments and then given way, all in an instant, at the first touch of the drink.

“Come, come, gentlemen,” said ho, “wo mustn't quarrel. LIT children love one not,her. We’ve got work to do among us. You think I’m no—no gen’lemaa. I don’t care. Gimme my forty quid a month an’ I’U do the work.” He made a sudden frowning effort to pull himself together, and turned about to MaeK curie with a certain dignity. “ You—your logic, sir, is a bit beyond me.” said he, “If it’s blackguardly for me to do the thing, I can’t see but it’s—■ its blackguardly in you to countenance it. \\ hen do you—when do you wish to commence?”

“We will commence,” said Hie Scotsman, “ at once—to-morrow. Every day’s delay is a pressing danger.” Ho looked down at the glasses before him. Even old MacKenrie couldn’t meet the Irishman’s eyes just tlien. “As for your—your suspicions of our—attitude toward you, you’re quite wrong, of course, of course. We’re equally responsible with you in everything. Now listen carefully, please. You will be presented to madame, your wife— tour wife, you understand?—by rua You will spend an hour or two of each day with her, at my house or in the garden, as she may prefer. The short interview will bo explained to her on the. grounds of her weak .state and nervous condition. Of course, as a matter of fact, she will neither expect nor wish for more at the present, since you’ll meet, ye imderstan’, in a. way o’ spe-akui, as strangers. She’ll not remember you. When she’s well enough and ■strong enough the whole thing shall he explained to her. My place, in ease ye don’t know, is the old convent property with the big garden, between the Rue Denfert Roehereau and the Boulevard Rasfail.”

Young Mallory canght at the edge of the table.

“ What;” he cried sharply. “What!” Say that again, man! The big garden that backs upon tire Rue Boissonade?”

“lire same,” nodded MacKenzie. “ Great God!” said Hie Irishman, softly, and Ills eyes wore round and strange. “Wait—wait! And the—the Princess walks—sometimes—in Hie garden, tall, very beautiful—brown, bronze hair?” “Well?” queried Sir Gavin. “"Why, I—l have a—sort of studio in tire Hue Eoissonade!” said young Mallory'. It was ;is if 1m spoke to himself.

“‘ I*ve seen the—Princess. I won’t do ’.t!” he cried suddenly. “By Heaven, I'm no blackguard, and yon shan’t make me one! I've done queer things in queer places, and I’m not proud of my life or of what I’ve done with it ; but, by my faith, I'll ii°t plav a scurvy trick upon that woman, of.all people iu the world.”

_ “ Yoa’v.i agreed to do it.” said MacKenzie, qukiiy. "And if you don’t do it that woman will very probably go mad in a week’s or a fortnight’s time.” Young Mallory's dhows were upon the little table, and his bend was between Iris hands.

“It’s fate." said he in a whisper. “By mv soul, it's fate, and none o’ my doing. Actually to know her. touch Ik r hand, look in b<?r eves. And (lod knows bow it- will all fall out! I tell you it’s fate! I’ll do your woik, sir. you never fear. Here, waiter, an absinthe—-and look sharp!’’ MacKenzie put out a protesting kind, bnt the Irishman turned upon him savagely.

“Damme, sir!" he cried, and MacKenzie. no coward. if you like, shrank hack in his chair. “Damme, sir. you’re buying my services for your forty quid a. month—not my person nor my soul I If I choose to take a drink, by my faith I'll take it!” He dashed the water in upon the yellow liqnnr. and gulped it down. Then in a moment his chin dropped forward upon his breast, and he kibbled of little green devils and great green gods and of sights and sounds of Paradise.

MacKenrie shook Ills square Scotch heart with u, sigh. Colonel You Altdorf tugged moodily at his moustaches. There was a crease between hi? brows. In truth, our game seemed but ill opened, and the hand v.t- held a weak one.

“ Come, gentlemen.'’ I cried, in a tone that strove to he cheery ; ‘‘ come, we do no good bv sitting late. To our beds, all of ns! Remember to-morrow." 1 clapped young Mallory upon the shoulder, and bo rove with a jerk. He seemed not badly oil. Ho walked with a fair steadiness, and held his tongue, but his eyes were i;eavy and glazed, the circles under them shockingly black, and the lines about his mouth showed, all at once, haggard and drawn. _ He turned and spoke to one of the waiters, who brought him presently, wrapped in a bit of newspaper, a lump of ice-

" What, wing to keep it up at Lome, old man?” 1 cried “ Olt, I say. remember you've to-morrow to think of !” “Kb?” said young Mallory. turning his sombre eyes upon me ; “ keep—keep what up? I’vo four hours’ work to do yet, man. I’ve three thousand words to get out for my newspaper. The ice is to put in a towel to wrap my head in.” Btit, great heaven, lad!” cried MacKerwcie, “ you’ve no need to worrv about newspapers now ! Chuck them np. * Yon’ro provided for.”

Mallory wrapped tlic bit of paper more closely about his lump of ice and led the way out to the street.

‘‘T promised them the thing,” said he simply. “You wouldn't have me break my word - ? T think we walk the same way, sir. Arc von ready?”

Von Altdorf and I stood under the awning of the terrasse and watched the two up the Boulevard Montpamessc. “ Wouldn’t disappoint his paper because he’d given his word,” mused Yon Altdorf. “ Going to sit op all night with ice on his head to keep a promise, and soaked in absinthe from heels to hair! Oh, well, one lives and 1 earns, my friend. Now, I should have said that man was impossible—out of a story book- One Lives and learns.”

“ I wish I'd shaken hands with him,” said I.

“You'll wish that more heartily still before the last card’s played,” said Colonel You Altdorf. “Yonder’s a man!” (To ba continued.)