ON CHRISTMAS EVE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 3711, 21 December 1912, Page 26

ON CHRISTMAS EVE.

encounter the bitter blast of a wind that seemed to cut like a knife. He turned up the collar of his fur-lined coat, thrust his hands deep into the I pockets and set out at a brisk pace towards his lodgings. Tire exercise would keep him warm, he thought, as lie reflected with a rueful smile, there would bo no fire in his room; and not much of which to make one. His j housekeeping bills were somewhat in j arrears, and unless one of the magaj zincs to which he was in the habit ! of sending MSS. decided that a story | then under consideration was suitable for its pages, and so forwarded the ! usual cheque, he thought it very probable his landlady would give him no- ! tice to quit. He laughed a little drearily as he let himself into his room, turned up the gas and looked round. It was clean and not uncomfortable, but he looked strangely out of place in it, and an expression of gloomy , disgust settled on his good-looking face, as he contrasted it mentally with the long, low room, with priceless old Chippendale furniture,, dark velvet hangings ancl soft ’usurious carpet, which had been “his”. last Christmas. To-morrow was Christmas Eve! Visions of merry parties at King’s Chace passed before him, he heard the light laughter of children, the soft voices of women, saw the* quaint old house with its historic calc wreathed with- bright leaves and .sca'rlet holly -berries. Everything would be done as usual to-morrow in the good old-fashioned way to celebrate the season of peace and good-will—and h? would be alone in dingy, cheerless lodgings in London ! Most of the friends he had made seemed to have somewhere to go at Christmas. The Club would he practically deserted, for everyone, except a few forlorn derelicts like himself, had gone “home" for the festive sea-' son.

"Why had he given up tile right to go to King's Chace? he asked himself. Not only for Christmas but for always? For he understood fully that when he flung out of the library after a stormy interview with his grandfather it meant that he would never return as the acknowledged heir unless lie complied with Mr B.qrtruni’s somewhat arbitrary demand that now that be was five-and-twenty he must give up “scribbling’’ and devote' His tune entirety to the management of the estate r.nd the ordinary pursuits of a country gentleman. At first Jack bad laughed and promised good-humoredly enough not to allow his •‘scribbling” to interfere with bis duties either as landowner or neighbor: but "Ten he found -that his grandfather s request was meant in all seriousness, in fact, was something in tlie nature of an ultimatum, he had grown angrv as ee declared he would promise nothing so absurd. The hot temper of -the Bnrtrums flamed on both sides, and after a short, but fiery discussion, .Jack bad flung cut of the bouse declaring lie would never enter it again unless his grandfather, apologised for his intolerable insults. During that stormy interview Jack learned that his mother, whom he dimly remembered, was the daughter of a “wretched scribbler,” as Mr. Rartrum contemptuously termed the clever writer whose talent his grandson inherited. The real cause of his inger lay in the fact that Jack’s father had refused to carry out a ong-avranged family alliance because >f his love for bonny Joan Greatorex, lad married her in spite of threats remonstrances, gone to India and lien without seeing his father again, ;o perhaps it was not altogether surmising that the imperious lonely old nan found it hard to forgive his laugter-in-Law and her relatives for eparating him from his cnlv son.

Jack’s inborn love of writing had i always annoyed his grandfather, but he had been allowed to follow his inclination unchecked, and had already tasted the sweets of small successes, so lie very naturally rebelled against the sudden and peremptory command to cease such “fooling” henceforth, and with youth’s triumphant optimism announced his intention to earn his own living by this same “fooling,” Ids grandfather held, in ouch scornful contempt. But earning his living was a . very different matter from writing for 'his own pleasure, and he found the rejection of his MSS j which occasioned merely a passing feeling of annoyance at King’s Chaco, and a good-natured anathema on all Editors and their wondrous ways with budding authors,' now resolved itself into something of a tragedy when it represented the inability to obtain shelter, food, and clothing. He glanced at his dress suit, which from habit he always wore in the evening. Perhaps last year he would have considered it shabby, now lie was inclined to thank a beneficent Providence that it had been the best he could procure from a famous firm in Bond Street, and so still retained that look which only a. good cut can give and retain. How he should procure fresh clothes when his present stock ran out. was a problem he did

“Wtevv! it’s a norili-eastorl” said Jack Rartrum to himself, as lie stepped from the doorway of a cosy, if somewhat unfashionable club to

A COMPLETE STORY.

not care to face. Up- to now he had managed to provide himself with food aneb lodgings, but bis rent* was due, and five shillings and a few coppers were Ml that .remained of his last cheque 1 And to-morrow was Christmas Eve 1 Which simply conveyed to Jack the knowledge that lie could not expect further remittances for at least three clays. He sighed as he began to undress, slowly, then his eyes fell on a letter on his writing-table, and with suddenly renewed, hope ho opened it. There was no address, and it began abruptly :

“If John Rartrum is willing to earn £IOO quite honorably will he meet the writer near the" Column, Waterloo Place, to-morrow, Christmas Eve, at three o’clock, p.m.” Jack read this extraordinary note several times with ever-increasing excitement and curiosity One hundred pounds! He was quite willing to earn It. and Ins unknown correspondent would certainly find him at the appointed trysting-place on the morrow. It was impossible to obtain the slightest clue as to the identity or even sex or tho writer of tho noto, for it was posted in the. City, neatly typewritten, and though Jack turned it over I and over and scrutinised it and the envelope most carefully, he was obliged to confess it told him nothing, and he must wait with what patience he might until the next afternoon. Punctually at the time appointed Jack arrived at the Duke of York’s Column from Waterloo Place, and almost at tho same moment a slim, girlish figure came up tho steps from James’ Park. As she caught •Sigiit of the tall figure she hesitated a moment ; then, as if in sudden desperation, advanced" quickly and paused m front of Jack. -“Mr. Rartrum?” she said in a low tone, raising to his a pair of the softest, most beautiful brown eves lie had ever seen.

He bowed and raised his hat. “At your service. You—was it you who wrote to me yesterday?” “\es, it was I—Mary Lennox. I I hope you don’t think it was a very dreadful thing to do?” • Her voice trembled a little, and she looked almost appealingly at the young giant beside her as they walked down the steps. “Perhaps it was a trifle—unusual,” he returned guardedly; “but, no doubt, the circumstances are unusual,” he hastened to add, as he saw her face flushed hotly. “They are — desperate,” she said. “Please—please don’t think! I—Oh! f know you have every right to think awful things; but really I'am in very groat trouble, and the other day I was reading one of your stories, ‘At Midnight,’ it was called, and I thought you were just the mail to help me.”

“I don’t know that I could undertake to swarm clown the water pipe of a five-storey house,” he said gravely. “You see, my hero was a sailor, and—and-—well we writers are allowed a little latitude!” “But your hero did more than that.” she returned, “lie—he personated someone disc!” “By Jove!” ejaculated. “Then you do want me ?” “To personate my brother,” she finished quickly, and again blushing —Jacks hero had personated the heroine’s fiancee, and eventually supplanted him. “Yes?” His tone was interrogatory, and she went on.

“You will promise on your honor not to mention the matter to anyone whether you decide.to help me or not? I must trust you very fully, Mr. Bartrum, and—and I believe you will be worthy of the confidence.”' He bowed. “You have already crusted me,” be said gravely, “and

f promise complete . .silence, on my honor.,”

The romance of the situation was stirring his blood, and he felt at the moment equal to the greatest donrwuius honor could make on a eliivah rous knight for the .sake of his lie°e ladye. . °

,ct his tllG Position,” she said. I live with my grandfather who is merely a tool in the hands of three Unscrupulous men who have managed to gain an extraordinary influence oyer . him. Acting under their advice lie sent Hugh to Africa in the opring presumably to look after some property in Rhodesia, at the same tune making him promise to be here ou Christmas Eve, and threatening tif cut him off with the proverbial shilling if he broke the compact. Hugh laughed at the whole thing, but I feared something sinister lay’ behind and warned my brother to be careful, f need scarcely fell you lie laughed, the more at my warnings, but time has proved my fears correct, for I have heard nothing from him since lie left, and to-night at eight o’clock lie ought to he dining with us at 7, •Rochester Gardens, or he stands to lose—an immense, fortune. Now, Mr Bartrum, will you take his place? Come to dine with us to-night as Hugh Lennox, you are extraordinarily

“The. only difference appears to (:-e,” said Mary smiling, as she finished a detailed account of her -brother's proclivities " and - peculiarities, “that Hugh is not in the very least inclined to be literary. You must forget that part of yourself, Mr. Rartrum. He always, calls grandpapa ‘grand,’ and me ‘Madonna’ sometimes, or any foolish name that occurs to him.” “And is he an affectionate—a demonstrative brother?” asked Jack gravely. A pretty color tinged her cheeks. “Everyone says so,” she returned, “and I —I— You will be Hugh tonight, Mr. Bartrum, so, of course, I shall treat you exactly as I do him.” “Of course,” said jack, promptly, “otherwise the whole affair will be a failure. And after, Miss Lennox ? Am I supposed to stay all night at Rochester Gardens, and how long is my engagement as your brother to last?” She looked up with startled eyes. ‘How stupid and very feminine you will think mo! I had not thought anything about all that. Of course, you must stay all night and you ought to bring a little luggage with proper labels on. The Melrose Castle arrived to-dav.”

“That is fortunate,” said Jack. “For I came borne in tlm Melrose and my bag still has her labels. And then—”

“Then we must be guided entirely by events,” she said, slowly. “If, as I fear, there has been foul play of any kind, my grandfather’s

‘friends’ will (commit themselves in some way. They will be at dinner to-night.” “I see,” said Jack, quietly, though inwardly he thought he was further than over from any light cm this mysterious affair. “Who arc these men,' Miss Lennox?” “Dr. Yordon, Professor Mittle, and Mr. Farston,” she returned. ‘.‘They' call themselves Scientists, and I believe they want my grandfather’s money for their vile experiments. They have done their best to poison his mind against Hugh, and this stupid arrangement was their idea, for unless my brother comes to-night a Will is to be made in their favor. Oh! I know it sounds wild and improbable. but really it seems some scoundrels can persuade people to do anything. My money belonged to my mother, and I know they have persuaded my grandfather that I have sufficient for one woman.”

“Well, we will try to outwit them,” laughed Jack, whose spirits had risen ridiculously during the interview, “Hugh shall put in an appearance to-night, Miss Lennox and—the rest is on the knees of the gods. I foresee an exciting Christmas Eve, where [ had been expecting a dull one, and f thank you heartily for your invitation.” How exciting it was to prove he certainly did not dream. 11. As Jack Bartrum packed his gladstone and made the necessary arrangements for his expedition, he was conscious of a feeling of exhilaration and glad expectancy. . “.What beautiful eyes she lias,” he mused, “soft and brown. And how pretty she looked when she blushed. I shall kiss her to-night. Kiss her !”

1-j.is heart beat quickly, and with a laugh lie straightened himself. “Jack, you fool, you’re in love! With a girl you’ve seen once, and who probably thinks of you as a mere hired domestic, a man who qan be bought for money.” He laughed again a trifle bitterly, then his eyes softened. “You’re a conceited beggar, Jack Bartrum, but you could not mind betting your boots she —liked you at sight, or she would never have applied to you. Anyhow, I’m her man for this business, though hang me if I can see the end. And if there’s foul play I’ll get to the bottom of it somehow.”

Armed with tliis resolve he presented' himself at Rochester Gardens. Pip was warmly greeted by a venerable butler, then he heaul a flutter of skirts and saw Marv, dressed in something white and clinging, descending the stairs. She came forward with both hands outstretched. “Hughdear. old hoy! You are back in time.”

“In spite of your gloomy proph'ecles,” he returned gaily, taking the slight figure boldly into his arms. His heart beat furiously as lie felt the soft hands steal sliylv round his neck. “For Parson’s benefit,” she murmured. , “Parsons is a very old friend of yours, and will show you your room.” When later Jack and Marv entered the drawing-room hand in hand like two chi’dren, there was a decided

like him, sa.like that it was a chance glance at a photograph of you which gave me the idea. You will earn my undying gratitude if you will, and—and—” .“Incidentally a .hundred pounds,” finiislicd Jack quietly, “I will help you, Miss Lennox, because—l want to; but I shall require a little coaching. I have been to South Africa, so can keep my end up with yarns of the right color, but I ought to know something of your brother’s—past, shall I say? His tastes, habits, and other little trifles tha<fc slip out in ordinary eon versa! ion with one’s reflations.” Jack was delighted to find that ho and his double shared many tastes in common.

sensation amongst the group already assembled there.’ “Here lie is, grand,” announced Mary triumphantly, and as the four men turned towards them Jack saw consternation, dismay and anger flash over the faces of three, whilst the fourth leaned forward in his chair. “So you can keep an appointment and a promise, young man,” he said; and the old voice was tremulous and eager.

“As you see,” returned Jack, advancing towards the old man with outstretched hand. “Have you any other task?” he went on. turning to the others with an ironical bow. “This almost sounds like the fairy tales of one’s childhood, grand, when the Prince was set to accomplish impossible feats before he was worthy-'to ask for the hand of the enchanted Princess. Have you a Princess for me ?’’

Mr Lennox chuckled. “I have that, boy, which will unlock most enchanted ’ castles, and give you your choice of Princesses; eh. Mittle?” The Profesor bowed. “Your grandson has proved himself a man or resource, sir. You are to be congratulated. Mr Hugh, upon—many things.” “Thanks,” said Jack carelessly, though he danced sharply at the Professor. The voice was familiar, and ho racked his brain in vain for some time to recall when and where he had seen that dark, clean-shaven face before ; but it was not until they returned to the drawing-room after dinner that it flashed upon him that one evening at the Club the Professor had been one of the most prominent speakers on Hypnotism. No doubt, then, this was the secret of his control over the old man, for that Air. Lennox was greatly under the influence of the two. Jack could see plainly, and his heart ached for his “sister” standing so alone in the world that her only friend was a stranger, hound to her so far as she knew simply because he was paid to serve her. After dinner - Mr. Lennox seemed anxious to talk to his “'grandson,” and though the Professor and his satellites tried several clever manoeuvres to separate them. JTack refused to see, and kept his seat lu- the old man. He was rewarded by a j smile from Mary and a gentle touch from her hand on his shoulder as she

passed him;, then, when the others had gone with a vindictive look at Jack which quite belied their bland wishes for “A Merry Christmas,” Mr Lennox said with a chuckle. “Mary doesn’t like these fellows, Hugh.” “I dont’ wonder,” said Jack heartily enough. “They haven’t improved during my absence, grand. And as for that Mittie ” “Well, what of him?” The tone was sharp, as Mr Lennox glanced at his grandson. “Oh, nothing, except that he dabbles in hypnotism and unholy arts of that kind,” said Jack carelessly, but watching to see the effect of his words. The old man said nothing for a moment, then he put out his hand fee'blv. “Hugh! don’t- leave me again; Whatever I may say, don’t; do you understand? Promise you won’t leave me to them. This evening I begin to see. They know your father broke his word to me over aiid over, and they have tried to persuade me that you were the same. But you have come back in spite of them, and we shall have a merry Christmas after all. And now you must promise not to leave me again.” “I will stay as long as you want me,” said Jack, inwardly wondering how it would all end. Where in Heaven’s name was Hugh Lennox ? "When would lie return? Did these scoundrels know where he was? And if so, why had they not denounced him (Jack) as an impostor at once? He went to -bed completely puzzled. 1 >lll more hopelessly in love than ever. He had held Mary in his arms Again,

hnd felt her soft cheek against his, had kissed her hair reverently, so, come what might, it was worth risking if only for that. He woke after what seemed a succession of nightmares to find himself in a small, poorly-furnished room, whilst out of a misty haze he could see Professor Mittle’s dark face with a malicious smile curving the thin lips, j “He will do now,” said the voice which had seemed so oddly familiar.

Jack struggled to his feet, but before lie could frame a remark or question the Professor had left the room, and Jack heard the key turned from the outside. He sprang up -and rushed to the door, shaking it violently and calling loudly, but there was no response except the echo of his own voice, and the lock remained firm.

He went to the window, and on leaning out as far as he dared found he could' just reach the leads. But supposing he swung himself out, what better off would lie be? He could not emulate the feat of his own hero, for the water pTpc was far out of reach. So far as he could see the house was in a row in a fairly broad street, but one 1 which he did not recognise. Presently from a neighboring church the clock struck the hour

of midnight, and almost simultanebuslv from the far distance came the sound of n no "I n f bolls n'wenndi'n;

the dawn of Christmas. Midnight! Was it, only one hour since he hoU said "Good-night” to Mary Penney 2 Those scoundrels must have concealer 1 themselves in the house and laid their plans very quickly, but Jack

had no time to wonder how his capture had been effected, all his energies were concentrated on escaping from his prison. He went to the window again, and then noticed that a network of wires crossed the house. If he could reach them, it ought to be easy, or at any rate, not altogether impossible to swing himself across the street. What after that he. did not stop to ask, his one idea being to get out of the Professor’s clutches! He was about to start on his perilous journey, when he heard a loud whisper from the further end of the room, “Hello!” “Hello!” returned Jack in the same tone, “Who are you?” He felt he quite expected the answer, “Hugh Lennox, and who are you ?” “Jack Bartrum, though I don’t suppose that name conveys as much to you as yours does to "me. I'our people think .you are in South Africa.” “Great Scott Those villains! I’ve been here all the time. Yesterdav i

tried desperately to get out, but only succeeded in half breaking my leg.” “Where are you?” whispered Jack. “By the door near the window.” “Can you open it?” “No, it’s locked.”

Jack groped his way to the small door, then briefly and rapidly unfolded his plan. “If I got away safely I’ll be hack before daylight,” he finished, “and help you out. Can you get through vour window?” “'Yes.” ' ‘ "Good! Then keep your eves nr.J ears open. Oood-bve. for the present.” “Good luck.” whispered the other ferventlv. , _ Jack was now more than ever anx- | ions to escape! he crept quietly through the window, stood up on the ledge, then slowly drew himself on to the narrow gutter. So far good ! But how to reach th? wires? The slates were covered with frost, everything slippery, and a false step meant instant death on tlie pavement below. Jack had nothing on but his pyjamas. but the perspiration stood* on his forehead as lie commenced his dangerous journey. It was easier than lie anticipated cr desperation made him find finger and foothold where there seeiped to be none, for in a few moments he was clinging panting to the wires, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he swung himself clear of the roof. He was by no means out of danger, but he would not allow himself to think of it. and j went on hand over hand steadily "until he reached the opposite house.* which he was delighted to find had a fiat roof, whilst from a window in the middle of a bright light shone, and Jack could hear the chink of glasses and the sound of voices and laughter. Advancing cautiously he stooped down and as the window was open, he could see and hear plainly all that was going on below. Half-a-dozen young men were sitting in a studio evidentlv celebrating Christmas Eve after the manner of their kind. Jack recognised one as a man he knew slightly, and tapping on the glass lie called out, “Sinclair, help me!” The revellers started to their feet, glancing upwards with startled faces’ then one gave a shout. “'Good heavens, Barfrnm. why are you sky-lark-ing there?” “Help me down and I’ll tell you.” I said Jack, who was now conscious that lie was very cold and unaccountably giddy and sick. Willing hands sot to work, furniture was piled up, and soon Jack was standing on the floor of the studio, the centre of an I astonished, hilarious group. ; "Been sleepwalking, old chap?” !

asked Sinclair. “Mistaken our roof for your bedroom?” laughed another. Jack shook his head. ' /No, I —I —” then lie reeled and staggered blindlv to a chair. , “Don’t laugh, you fellows,-’ lie gasped, when the furniture ceased to dance wildly, and the many voices sounded not so many miles away. “Lend me some clothes, Sinclair, will you, and come with me. Mary—l mean Oh ! dont’ laugh, .vou idiots, it’s a matter of life and death.”

“It always is.” “What is she?” “Tell me, Mary,'.how to.woo thee!” they cried in chorus, whilst Jack fe’t he could have murdered . them ali ohcerfullv.

“Now look hero, you chaps.” he said at last. “Do any of you think

it at all likely I should choose a nice warm night like this to take a stroll on your roof in pyjamas just for fun! If you’ll listen I’ll tell you the tale, though I daresay you'll think I’m dreaming,” he concluded ruefully. He then told the whole story, and though one or two were inclined to; scoff, the majority looked serious. “It’s a case of conspiracy, old fellow,” Sinclair, “I should go to Scotland Yard at once.”

“I’d rather go to the nearest Firestation and borrow an escape!” said Jack. “There would be less publicity and delav.”

The proposal was greeted with acclamation, and the party sallied forth at once. The fireman on duty, happened to be well-known to Sinclair, and being young, an ex-sailor, therefore adventurous, was persuaded easily to lend his assistance, so that very soon. Hugh was rescued from his imprisonment, and carried to Sinclair’s studio, where he and -Tack passed what remained of the night. In the morning, Hugh returned to Rochester Gardens, Jack, much to his new friend’s disgust, refusing altogether to accompany him. At° first, Hugh flatly declined to go without him. but Jack remained firm.

“I was—engaged to personate you until your return,” he said, “and it will only complicate matters to have two Richmonds in the field. Air. Lennox would never know ”

“Great Scott! do you imagine for a moment I shall allow grand to think it vas I last night?” said Hu ah indignantly. “He shall know what piecious scamps those ‘'friends’ cf his ars. At least, come round this afternoon. and let Alarv thank vou,” Me went on artfully, as -Jack remained obstinate. “Aladonna's a ripping sister, and awfullv fond of me. ’ "."she is,” said Jack gravelv. "I

was you last night, you know.” "I scarcely know which is mvselr.” said Hugh; “and I daresay Alarv will ha nearly as nice to your’ proper self —for my sake! Como, old man. premise to turn up: unless, of course, you have other friends exneeting you?” Jack shock Ins head, then, after a moment, said slowly, **L'll go to mv cl j cr S' —so? 11 tiic-r-e s. re fiiiv* C hristmas cards. laughing shortiv. “and follow you later.” ° He went to the r heerless room, glanced on the table for letters, more from force of habit than because he expected any, and, to his surprise, saw there was one addressed in his grandfather’s handwriting. His heart gave a bound as ne opened it, and read, with feelings better imagined than described : —- "My Hear Jack.—This is the season of Peace and Goodwill. If you have had enough of independence, ana are willing to forgive an old man’s foolishness, he has had enough of loneliness, and the best Christmas present you can give him wik b c yourself. Accept enclosed cheque for £'lCO with your grandfather’s love.

A. I. B \RTRUM.” “King’s Chare, December 24, 190—. Jack sat down and covered his face with his hands. The revulsion or feeling after his recent nerve-shak-ing experiences was almost too much, and he had much ado to keep from a burst of hysterical laughter. When he had forced himself to some degree of composure, he changed Sinclair’s suit for one of his own, and went to Rochester Gardens.

Mary greeted him most cordially, if a trifle shyly, and Hr Lennox almost overwhelmed him with thanks. There was much to be told and explained on both sides, and it was late in the afternoon before Jack started for “home.” As he held Mary’s hand

at parting, he said in a low tone, iou wen t forget your ‘brother,’ Miss Lennox?”

irfie looked at him reproachfully. “How can I forget you risked vour life for Hugh?”

“Oh. that was nothing/” lie protested. “And as much, for myself as him after all.”

“It was better than your hero,” said Mary, and something in the expression of her brown eyes emboldened Jack to whisper: “I wish I might copy him still further.” “Further?” she murmured.

. “Yes, he married the heroine!” Eventually Jack’s wish was fulfilled. and now he always says the best luck of his life came to him on Christmas Eve.