A SHORT STORY.

Marlborough Express, Volume XLIV, Issue 138, 18 June 1910, Page 3

A SHORT STORY.

THE TEMPTATION OF MARY COLVIN. ♦— — (By A. P. Garland.) "Will you come this way, please? 'Mr Muspratt wishes to see you." Mm Calvin rose gracefully and followed the uniformed hoy into the private office of Arthur Muspratt and tjo./the world-renowned bankers and financiers, . afternoon, Miss Colvin,' , said a gentleman; as he half rose from a huge roll-top desk. , Will you Mndly take a chair?" She bowed in reply, and sat down near the door, but not without acer--tain amount of bewilderment. She tad pictured to herself a stern, hardfeatured individual, long past middle age, with keen, grasping eyes and bushy brows. Instead, she, saw a well-built, athletic gentleman, with clean-shaven face and short-cropped, dark-brown hair, without a trace of grey- In reality; he was thirty-six years of age, but he'looked no more than twenty-eight, and, in any case, absurdly young for a man whose financial operations extended over two hemispheres. He looked at his visitor for a moment. ~, , ""From your application," said he, •TT gather that you are capable of filling the p<)st that is now vacarr What I require is a secretary who is at the same time efficient and reliable. She will necessarily learn a good deal about our transactions, and it is of the utmost importance that she should keep such mformation strictly to herself. That is why we offer an initial salary of 2000 dollars per annum, which, you arm agree: is unusually large. OUJ references are very satisfactory, and I shall be glad if you will undertake the post at a month's trial. Are you willing?" ■ * ■ "Yes, thank you," she answered. *Wery well, then;' I shall expect you on Monday morning at 9.30. That is all, I think, for the present. Good afternoon, Miss Colvm." Mary Colvin walked back from Wall Street to the dingy little room in West Fourteenth Street filled with exultation at her successful interview. It might easily be imagined that this was due to her obtaining so important and lucrative an appointment; but, in reality, no pecuniary motive bad any part in her application. Twelve months before she had been a language mistress at a girls' high school on Long Island. She had been educated almost entirely in Europe,, and spoke French and German fluently. She had no friends and but one relative in the world—her father —who eked out a precarious existence as a free-lance journalist.' Under the pseudonym of Henry Wain, he had become fairly well-known in the editorial world'; but his ambition to write epic poetry and similarly uncommercial matter had impeded his efforts to obtain anything like a competency. Hence when Mary completed her schooling and returned to New York at the age of eighteen, she was amazed to discover that her father found it difficult to earn even a livelihood. Eealising the state of affairs, she sought for and obtained a post as assistant mistress, and for two years had made good progress in her profession, when a wire reached her announcing her father's, serious illness. She hurried to New York, but was too late to see him before he died. Mary's grief at losing her father, and being left absolutely alone in the world, brought on a serious illness, which had kept her in bed for several weeks. When she grew convalescent and was able to venture out, the landlady came one day to inform her 'that in clearing up the room after the funeral they had discovered a fragment of a letter in Mr Wain's handwriting, evidently intended for his daughter. The- letter read as follows: "My Darling Daughter,—The doctor tells me that I have at most only a few hours to live, so that I cannot hope to see you again in this world. I have worked hard all my life, to try to ensure that you would not need to earn your own bread. But for some cruel enemies, it might have been so. I want you to remember the name of one man whom, if you get the chance, you must pay back the debt I owe. His name is Arthur Muspratt, and to him is {j ue " There it ended. Her father had written these few sentences, and been overtaken by death before he had finished his message. For some time Mary sat staring through eyes blurred with tears at the pitiful scrawl that represented lier father's last words on earth. Then she bagan to interpret the message. Some enemy had done her father wrong, and he had asked his <ilaxtghter to a range him, The man's

name was Muspratt—Arthur Muspratt—and her mission was to repay this man the wrongsof her parent. A little inquiry soon revealed the fact that her father's enemy was one of the most famous financiers of the day. The sale of her father's effects, together with her own moderate savr ings, made up altogether nearly one hundred pounds. So she studied for some time at a commercial school, until she acquired the necessary knowledge of shorthand and type-, writing; and this, with her language capabilities, soon secured for her an appointment in a stockbroker's office. Here she remained nearly twelve months, until she heard of the vacancy in Muspratt's, and, with her longing for vengeance still unfulfilled, she applied for the post with the result already mentioned. The following Monday morning saw Mary Colvin installed at private secretary to Arthur Muspratt. The life was strenuous and exacting, but the hours were not unduly long, and the work was absorbingly interesting. Gradually she came to understand the marvellous ability that underlay the success of Arthur Muspratt. Foresight, daring, patience—these were'the chief weapons with which he was able to hold more than his own in the daily struggle with the money kings of the earth. Towards his new secretary his attitude was respectful, but painfully distant. His whole soul was absorbed in money-making—a pursuit that gave full scope toi his daring and ruthless character. Mary had failed to discover in what way he had injured her father, but even her short acquaintance with him had proved that those who stood in Arthur's way were broken mercilessly sooner or later. One evening when she had returned

home from her work she found a typewritten letter awaiting her. The writer of the letter concealed his identity under the name of Mr X. He offered Miss Colvin 5000 dollars if she answered truthfully, so far as she was able, half a dozen questions concerning Arthur Muspratt's financial holdings. If she agreed she. was to reply by means of the enclosed advertisement form through the columns of a metropolitan paper. The letter contained a slip with the words "Mr X. Yes," also a postal order to pay for the insertion. ' Mary read and re-read the letter several times before she realised its importance. Here was the opportunity she had longed for. Muspratt was then engaged in a critical struggle with some of the greatest interests on the Stock Exchange, and a knowledge of his holdings would be invaluable to his rival. She opened a little writing cabinet and took out the fragment of a letter that her father had left behind, and for many hours she pondered. At length came the decision that she could not do this thing. Her father's wishes she still regarded as sacred, and she would strive to carry them out; but she shrank from dealing a stab in the back to the emEloyer by whom she earned her read. One thing, however, she determined. She could no longer remain in Arthur Muspratt's employment; but before leaving she would tax him with his conduct and let him know that she was his enemy. _ Until she knew in what way he had injured her father she found it impossible to fulfil her mission. , The next morning Mary arrived at the office just in time to meet Mr Muspratt at the door. She followed him into the inner office, but did not remove her hat or coat. Her employer looked at her in surprise. "Anything wrong, Miss Colvin?" he asked. She hesitated before speaking. "I—l wish to resign, Mr Muspratt."

"Indeed! I am sorry to hear you say so. And may I ask the reason?" She raised her eyes accusingly to him. "You will understand better when I tell you that I am the only daughter of Henry Wain, the man you ruined." "Henry Wain?" he repeated. "The man I ruined?" "Yes. Can you deny it?^ Here are his own words to prove it " She held out the unfinished letter on which her information had been based. He read it through carefully. "You are altogether mistaken* Miss Colvin. Your father and I were the best of friends. I was _the last man in the world to injure him." "A dying man does not tell lies," she said sternly. "One moment, please," he said, ringing Ms bell;. "Ask Mr to come here," said he to the boy who answered the summons. Mr Knill, the cashier, hurried in from the outer office. "Have you got my private account . book handy?" asked his employer. "Yes, sir; I can get it in a moment." He went out again and returned with a small brown ledger. "Look m the index for the name of Wain." The cashier found the page required and handed the book to Mr Muspratt. "That will do for the present. Thank you, Mr Knill/' said the latter, Mr Knill withdrew,, and Mr Muspratt held out the ledger to Miss Colyin. "I should have much preferred to spare you this, but as you still believe that I was your father's enemyy look there." ' ; Miss Colvin took the book doubtfully, and looked at the entries indicated. Under the name Wain she found a regular recurrence of the amount lOOdolsf at quarterly intervals for a number of years, and by the side of the entry, in each case was the note,, "Daughter's Scnool Fees." The book almost fell from her hands through sheer amazement. :She stared blankly at Mr Muspratt. "Then what (did he mean when he said that you were his enemy?" , "I think that you are making a wrong deduction from his .final message. The only enemies I heard him SDeak of were the literary^ reviewers. It was probably in quite a different light he was referring to me." ■■ ■' Mary took the letter and put it back in her purse. "Then it is to you I owe my education and support for many years, and all the time I was—" "Harboring vengeance ? Well, of course, it was a mistake, but after all you couldn't,tell." "Before I go, I want to ask your pardon, Mr Muspratt. I came here intending to take advantage of what I might learn in order—" v "But you were too honestj after all," said he, with a smile. "Even Mr X. couldn't tempt you." "Mr X? How do you know about him?" "I am Mr X." "You?" "Yes. I ought to apologise for having appeared to distrust you. In reality, I didn't; but as a matter of form, I sent that letter. In: the last two years I ( have had five secretaries, and in three cases the bait took and my employees arranged to betray me; but I can assure you, though I sent that letter, I hadn't the least doubt of you. Can you tell why?" "No," she answered artlessly. "Because I, love you." Some months after the marriage Mrs Muspratt laughingly taxed her husband with his frigid manner towards her when she was his secretary. ."You treated me shamefully. Just as if I had no feeling, Arthur." "My dear Mary," he answered," If you only knew the reason. I was simply afraid to. I didn't know you then, and I had a suspicion that if I made any inquiry about your health you would construe it into an offer of marriage." I "Well, of all the vain people I ever heard—" "That's all very fine, but if you'd been threatened with actions for breach of promise by all your secretaries, you'd be very careful." ' "All your secretaries?" "35-xcept one," he laughed. "She has no need to. She got me." And Mary laughed, too.