THE PROFESSOR’S NIGHT OUT.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXVII, Issue 14285, 1 February 1907, Page 10

THE PROFESSOR’S NIGHT OUT.

(By FRANCIS CRIBBLE.) Author of “ The Special Commission,” “The Things That Matter,” “ The v Lower Life,” etc., cvo.

Professor Tregarthen—Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy in Wales —was dignified, portly,' and imposing : an old Cambridge “ blue,” and as much a man of the world as one could expect a Professor from Wales to be. He knew London fairly well; and when he came to town, he stayed at his father-in-law’s house, in Berkeley Square, where the events related in this story happened. The Professor was sitting up late that night, preparing a lecture on the Absolute, when Lady Carmichael came down into the library in her dressinggown. “ Sir John is very ill,” she said in an anxious whisper. “Dear me, dear me!' 1 “I left Ella with him while I came down to speak to you. All the servants are in bed, and he wants the doctor.** * “I’ll go, of course. What is the address?” She told him, adding; “ There’s something eke. Perhaps I’m more frightened than I ought to be; hut I really think that Arthur ought to be fetched, too.” “You won’t,wait to hoar what the doctor says?” “ I think not. You won’t mind going for him, will you? He said he’d bo late. He’s at his club.” “ What club is it?” “ The Junior Sportsman's Club—2l l, St James’s Place.” “270, St James’s Place —yce, 1 11 remember,” said the Professor, as he unlocked the door, and hurried forth upon his errand, running the two hundred yards or so to the' doctor’s house. Then, having rung the night-bell and shouted up the speaking-tube, he hailed a cab. . .“ 270, St James’s Place. Drive as fast as you can.” ,v“ Ho! ho!, ho!” chuckled the cabman, grimly on his perch. “ Stop that indecent guffawing, and make haste,” said the Professor. “Ho! hoi ho!” repeated the driver, as he whipped up his horse. For, as you have seen; the Professor had made a mistake‘in the number. He had given the address, not of the Junior Sportsman’s Club, but of the Young Sportsman’s Club—which is a club of a ver/ different character. The cabman 'knew the Young Sportsman s Club, though the Professor did not. So all the way through the silent streets he chuckled; (“Ho! ho! ho!” At 270, St James’s Place, the Professor got out and spoke to the commissionaire on guard at the entrance. ■v “.Will you kindly tell Capta.n Carmichael that Professor Tregarthen wishes to see him at once?” “Carmichael? There’s no gentleman ■of that name here, sir,” rep.ied the man in uniform.” “Nonsense,.” said the Professor. /‘.This is 270, St James’s Place, is it not?”' ' ..

“ Certainly, eir.” “Then I know that my brother-in- . law, Captain Carmichael, is a member of this club, and I have every reason to believe that ho is in the club'at the present' time.” , “T assure you there's no gentleman of that name here, sir. I take the names of all the gentlemen as they come in.” ... » Then you have made a mistake in not, taking the name of Captain Carmichael.” _ “No mistake whatever, sir.’ “There must be a mistake; and as I am here for the purpose of fetching -Captain Carmichael to the bedside of , his fatheij - who has been suddenly taken ill, I shall com© inside and as- ■ certain for myself whether ho is hero or not.” ' • ' . “ Very sorry, sir. It’s _ against orders to admit strangers, sir,” replied ■■ the commissionaire. f ‘ “ Then let me see the secretary of y-fhe club.” ' . “ Very sorry, sir. The secretary s .'gone home, sir.” W" “ In that case you must f ln the exerri-e cf your own discretion.” ’■ “ I’m sorry I can’t do so, sir; but -I’ve got my orders.” “I will take upon my own shou'dera tthe responsibility of your breaking • them.. I am the Professor of Moral “You can’t pass, sir.” “ What do you mean, man? How ;dare you speak to me like that?” said ■ -the Professor, who was accustomed; to b© obeyed. “ I insist upon coming in.” ; J A man 'of less imposing appearai.ee would, no doubt, have been stopped by force. But the commissionaire hesitated to lay Tough hands upon the Processor, and, instead of stopping him, 1 he followed him, protesting, up the pas- ~ sap©. The' Professor opened the first door -that he came to, calling in a loud voice, as he entered; . Captain Carmichael! Is Captain Carmichael, here?” .'."A ohofusV of'’interjections greeted . , him. ; “What in thunder- —-1 1. Who V” • Thus they' saluted him; and the 1 Professor perceived that he bad inItruded upon a company which had not .expected him. „ , ~ ... ' • He had expected to find himself in >, an , ordinary club smoking-room ; he found himself in an apartment which seemed half gambling and half refreshment buffet. Tip the centre of the room ran a ; table covered with green baize, at which men were playing baccarat; old men. and young, pigeons and_ hawks; -V monev-lender, heavily bejewelled, ;,who doubtless found the place a useful .'vahte-chamber to his business offices. . They were not playing for fish counters, •but for notes and gold. At one end of the room was a refreshment bar, where young men who had already drunk too much champagne were drinking more. On any other occasion Professor Tregarthen would doubtless have felt it his duty to rebuke the gamblers; but how his business was too urgent. “ I fear I intrude upon you, gentlemen” he began politely. “ Not at all, old man. Sit down and nave a drink,” cam© a graceless voice rrom the bar. - , , „ “Be silent!” thundered the Professor; and the graceless on© collapsed. '“I am looking,” he continued,. ‘ for my brother-in-law, Captain Carmichael, of the Royal Horse Artillery. He left ’ word that he would be spending the Jivening here, and I have volunteered o call for him in consequence of the fudden illness of his father. I am the Professor of ” . A sober man—almost the only sober man —left the baccarat table to attend , to the Professor, and explained the mistake into which he had fallen. The Professor thanked him. , “I am obliged to you, sir.” he said. “ No doubt, as you suggest, I shall find ,'Daptain Carmichael at the Junior ' Sportsman’s Club. May I add that it . p a relief to me to know that my Brother-in-law ” 11 Shall I tell the commissionaire to tall you a cab?” continued the sober , man. *' “It will be very good of you, sir,” aaid the Professor. “We may trust you 1 hope,” the -other went on, “ not to give us away.” “ I beg your pardon, sir. _ I don’t quite understand the expression.” “ Not to give us away—not to blow the gaff, you know. You seo you’ve acquired a certain amount of information, and the police ” It was as though the sober man had galled -the police. A whistle was heard. I’hrougb the open door the uniforms of a small crowd of constables were seen ; a rigorous man in evening dress, and *

light Inverness cape over it, came up the passage, and a voice cried— , I “Raided, by George!” 1 The sober man went, back, and the ' Professor wont on, and ran into the man in evening dress, who put up bis I hand to stop him. “Be good enough to let mo pass. I’m in a hurry,” said the Professor. “ Certainly not,” said the other. “ No person can be allowed to leave the premises except in the custody of the police.” Professor Tregarthen explained—- “ You evidently don’t know mo.” lie said. “I am the Professor of ” “I can’t help that, sir. Professors aren’t allowed in gambling clubs any more than other peonlc.” “But ” 1 “They a eu’t really, sir, I assure you.” But I haven’t been in'the place five minutes. I merely came here in search of my brother-in-law, Captain Carmichael, of the Royal Homo Artillery, whose father ” I “ I don’t doubt it’s all right, sir, but ! you’ll have to tell that story at Marlborough Street.” “ Do you mean to say that you have the audacity to—l’ll ” | The Professor nearly said that lie would write to tho “Times” about it; but reflected that eveu that step would I uot save him from looking ridiculous. 1 Before he could think.of an alternative threat the lights went out. In the confusion which followed, he drifted back into the card-room, and was mixed with tho general crowd of gamblers, talking volubly to all who would listen of the scandal which would result if, in consequence of his mistaking one house in ,St James’ Place for another, he should be obliged to stand in the dock at a Police Court. • “ It will be in the papers,” he said. “They’ll have my portrait in the illustrated papers. And what will my undergraduates eay?” ! A young man—the graceless young man who had previously asked the Professor to have a drink—took pity on him.

“ It’s a shame, sir,” said this young man, “ and I was rude to you just now, but if you’ll let me, I’ll see you through.” “ My young friend,” said tho Professor. “ I am obliged to you, but there is nothing to be done. If the inspector wouldn’t listen to me, is it likely that he would listen to you?” “No but I’ll hide you.’ ’ “Eli?” “And then, when they’ve gone, yon can walk out of tho front door as if .the house belonged to you.” “But, my young friend——” “ Come along, sir. No time to lose. Nip in here behind the bar.” He gripped Professor Tregarthen by the arm, and opened the door of a large cupboard. “ Nip in there, sir, ’’ he said. “But, my young friend ” “It’s narrow quarters, I know, sir; but it’s the largest cupboard we’ve got. We'd have had it made larger if we’d expected you.” He bundled the Professor in, ■ and then there was a pause in the proceedings. In his concealment he reflected. He was not at all sure that he had acted wisely. He could not disguise from himself that, if -by any hazard he should be discovered and dragged forth, he would suffer a graver loss of dignity than if he had faced the music from the first; and he felt tempted to come out and face it now. But the fear of ridicule deterred him; and he clung to the chance of presently slipping out undetected.

Meanwhile the raid proceeded. ' The gas was relit; the gambling implements were taken away; the gamblers were removed. in’ custody; the lights wont out again; the front door was shut with a bang; the rolling of wheels was heard and ceased; silence reigned in the street as in the house.

“Now,” said Professor Tregarthen, “T think ! may venture.” He pushed the cupboard door, and it yielded without much noise; he struck a match, and lit a pair of candles that were standing on the mantelpiece; carrying one of thorn, he found his way to the Front door. But “ Good heavens!” he ejaculated. For not only was the door locked, but the key had been removed. The cupboard 'from which he had escaped was only a prison within a prison after all. He returned to the card-room to reflect. ;

“Dear me!” he meditated. “ I shall need all my wits. Perhaps the young man who so irreverently invited me to drink With him would not mind if I were to——”

There was brandy and soda on the buffet. The Professor drank. His courage returned to him, and ho formed a plan. “ Presumably,” he reflected, “ there is some caretaker on the premises. Perhaps if I were to find him, and explain ” He took up the candle again, and proceeded cautiously on his quest. Room after room was empty or unoccupied, but, in one roora, he found a suit of clothes belonging to the commissionaire.

“If the worst comes to the worst,” he soliloquised, “ I will put on this uniform and escape through the window.” This measure, however, could only be regarded as a last resource. The Professor brought the uniform to his headquarters in the card-room, and resumed his search for the caretaker. It was not until ho had climbed on tip-toe to the attic that he discovered any sign of human life. -Then ho perceived a door ajar, and heard a snore proceeding flora it. He coughed and pushed the door further open. It croaked upon its hinges; and a voice called—-

“ Now then, Tom I Why can’t von make haste and come along to bed?’ Professor Tregarthen took a step backward and replied—- “ My good woman, yui are mistaken, lam not your hr uid. Tam ” A shrill shriek in corrupted him; there was a patfer of footsteps: and the door slammed in his face. He stooped, and putting his mouth to the keyhole, spoke reassuring words—- “ My good woman, do not be alarmed, but pray assist me in my most unfortunate predicament, I am the Professor of Moral ” _ “Go away, you wicked man. If my Tom catches you ” “ Com© now, pull yourself together and be sensible, my good woman, said the Professor. But the answer was mixed with hysterical sobs. It was—- “ If you’re a burglar, take the silver and go, but don’t come murdering a Christian woman who never did you any harm. Oh! oh !oh !”• And the poor woman ran back to her bed, and hid herself under the bedclothes. “Dear me, dear me!” said the Professor. “How foolish people are!” But ho perceived that lie was foiled, and fell buck upon his second plan, of escaping in the < disguise of a commissionaire, carrying nis own garments with him in a parcel. He went back, therefore, to the cardroom, and began to effect the change. But ho had not proceeded far—he had, in fact, only substituted the commissionaire’s cap for his own hat when ho became aware of a faint noise, as of someone creeping about behind the buffet.

He coughed ; but there was no answer to his cough. Then he approached the bullet carefully with long and silent strides. “ Ullo I”

The greeting came from a person of evil countenance, who. with a look that was half leer and half menace, thrust his frea close to the Prcfts or’s.

“Who are you, my man?” the Professor asked in a tone of authority. “ ’Oo are you yourself, if ic conies to that?” replied the other. “Como now, my man, it is quite evident you are hero for no honest purpose,” said the Professor boldly; but the man was not intimidated.

“ Dishonest purpose, is it ?” ho retorted. “Very well, then; and what

price you, coinin’ in ’ere and dreesin’ yerself up like a monkey on an organ, this time o’ night?” The Professor’s eye caught bis own reflrctlon in the mirror, and .e realised that bis appearance was liardly in keeping with his tone of voice. “Just you listen to me, my lad,” the o'her went on. “You’re, thinkin’ 1 don’t look as if I was the landlord of this ’onse. No more don’t you, so fur as that gees. You’re, ’ere for what you can get, same ns what I am. You ain’t anxious to meet the coppers any more than me. Very well. Do we ’ang together and git a wav, or do wo queer each other’s pitch and get copned?” The Professor understood. Unless lie could get away unobserved, he risked having’to face a charge of attempted burglary. On the other hand, ho could hot get away without the burglar’s help. - * Consequently ho must make overtures. “ I certainly shall bo much obliged to you,” ho said, “ if you can indicate a means by which I can leave this house, in which, by a most unfortunate series of accidents ”

“Now you’re talkin'". Give us yer ’and on ft,” interrupted the burglar; and the Professor had to accept the proffered grip of friendship. But the burglar made conditions. “I’m thinkin’,” he said, “that it would look more nat’ral if I was to put on the suit of clothes what you was dressin’ yourself up in. Then if there’s anybody about, it’ll seem as if you was the .gentleman and I was tho servant a-showin’ yer out/'

The Professor agreed, and the burglar made his second condition. “Likewise'l’ll just ask yer to kerry the beg for me, and to stow them cand’esticks in yer coat-tail pocket.” “I shall do nothing of the kind,” answered the Professcr indignantly. “Well. I’ll let yer be copped if yer don’t, and yer carn’t say I didn’t tell yer,” the burglar rejoined; and the Professor yielded. His conscience pricked him, but he controlled its qualms by making good resolution// He would carry the bag only as long as the burglar’s eye was on him; at the last moment he would find a means of leaving it behind. As for tho candlesticks, ho would return them afterwards-by registered parco’s pc<jt, together with an anonymous letter apologising for their temporary removal. “ Come along, cocky,” said tho burglar, and the strangely-assorted pair began their retreat on tip-toe. The burglar led the way into the gloomy bas ment, and thence through a window, from which he had removed the pane by means of treacle and brown paper, into a yard. A wall had to bo climbed, and the burglar pointed to a broken garden roller, and insisted that the Professor should get up and reconnoitre. “ If the copper catches sight o’ you.” he said, “ speak to him in a lordly way, same as yon spoke to me afore you know me"; but don’t let him ketch sight o’ you if you can help it.” “ I’ll see what I can do, my friend,” the Professor answered. In the darkness he slipped the burglar’s bag into the interior of the garden roller. Then, taking off his hat, to bo less conspicuous, he stepped on to the roller, and peered over the wall. He could see no one, except the driver of a crawling cab, some fifty yards away. There seemed a chance that if he were quick he might escape from, his compromising companion by jumping into that cab and driving off. He put his hat on, drew himself up, threw his log over tho wall, dropped, and waved his hand energetically to the cabman.

“Oh, there you are, are you? I’ve been waitin’ for you this half-hour.” The voice was that of a youthful police' constable, who stepped unexpectedly out of tlie shadow. “1 knew you was here,” he continued, “ by the way the moss on the wall was kicked about, and I knew you’d be out again presently, so 1 waited for you. Now you’ll come along to Marlborough Street.” It seemed to the Professor that neither expediency nor justice forbade him to denounce hie companion to the policeman. “ My good man,” he began. “ Who are you calling your good man?”

“ Your misapprehension is excusable,” proceeded the Professor. “ There certainly has been a burglary. The real burglar ” But the real burglar had also formed a plan of campaign; and his plan, like the Professor’s, included the betrayal of a comrade. Protected by his commissionaire’s uniform, he scrambled on to the wall, bellowing—- “ Stop thief I Ketoh ’im there! ’E’s dropped ’ie beg, but Vs got the kendle-eticks in ’is pocket. ’Old him eight 1” “ You atrocious scoundrel 1” shouted the Professor, aghast at this unexpectr ed treachery, and once more h© tried to explain to the constable: “ Listen bo me, constable. You are stopping the wrong man. lam not the burglar. lam the Professor of “’Old ’im tight, constable I” came the burglar’s voice. “Don’t let ’im go! I’ll run and get help for yer.” And ho jumped from the wall like a cat and bolted like a hare, while the policeman fastened the handcuffs on the Professor’s wrist. “There you are,” he said, “safe and comfortable. Not that I have any illfeeling towards you. Quite the contrary. Much obliged to you for getting mo my first stripe.” It was, inaecd, a terrible situation, and it was in vain that the Professor told the truth, and in vain that he offered bribe*.

“Thank you kindly,” the officer answered. “ But I’d sooner ’av© my stripe.” And then, driven to desperation, the Professor shook himself free from the constable’s grasp, and ran. The countable pursued, blowing his whistle. A (sergeant of police was round the-corner, and the Professor ran into his arms.

“Good Lord!” was the (sergeant’s exclamation.

“ Heavens I Why, it’s Sergeant Llewellyn, of Llangollen.” “ Certainly, sir. Sergeant Llewellyn that you got put into the metropolitan police. Asking your pardon, little was I thinking then ”

“For heaven’s sake, Llewellyn, listen to what I have to say.” Sergeant Llewellyn oould see clearly enough that there had been some inirunderetanding. Whether it was a misunderstanding that oould be cleared up” without a visit to the police station was another matter. But he would try.

Constable Parsons.” he said, “ stand to one side. Now, sir. you tell me what it’s all about.”

At last the Professor had a sympathetic listener, to whom he could relate his night's adventures. Sei-geant Llewellyn listened to the story gravely, removing the handcuffs while he did so. Then he turned upon Constable Parsons.

“ What’s the meaning of this. Constable Parsons?” he asked.

“ Charge o’ burglary, I seed the gentleman cornin’ out o’ the house—” “Yes; and who olwo did you see coming out o’ the house at the same time?”

“ Nobody. Leastways only the commissionaire that was after : im, and went for ‘elp that I didn’t require.” “ Went for help, did ho? Do you see what you’re done, Constable Parsons? You’ve run in a real gentleman, and you’re let a real burglar go. A pretty figure you’ll cut. Constable Parsons, when you toll that story to the Inspector.” “ Well, I dunno,” replied the constable. “ Look in the gentleman’s

pcckete and you’ll find the caudle sticks.”

It was a good point. For a moment the sergeant did not know how to meet it. Then a happy thought struck him.

“Candlesticks! Fiddlesticks!” ho replied. “ When a real gentleman, ss I know this gentleman to be, has candlesticks in his pocket, it stands to reason they're his own candlesticks. How else would you have a gentleman carry hia candlesticks? Do yon expect a gentleman to 'go about with his candlesticks slung round hie neck?” It w_s an unoonsequontial argument but it nerved.

“Well, you're a sergeant, I’m only a constable,” was the answer, io which Sergeant Llewellyn rejoined; “ Constable Parsons, that’s the truest words yon ever spoke. I’m the sergeant, and I’ll trouble you to go back to your beat and leave me to take charge of this case. And, mark my words. Constable Parsons, the less you talk about this night’s foolishness of yours the lees likely you are to got into trouble.”

Then to the Professor: “ I’ll have to take you home, sir, and get you formally identified by your friends and relations. Then, if you wouldn’t mind handing me over tho—er—candlesticks, sir; ” and the Professor produced them. ■ “ Rest assured, too,” he added, “ that I shall find a tangible means of showing my gratitude both to the constable and yourself, if this little matter can be so arranged as to entail no further publicity.” And that, of course, wae how Sergeant Llewellyn managed it.