SERIAL STORY.

Marlborough Express, Volume XLVII, Issue 142, 18 June 1913, Page 2

SERIAL STORY.

CHAPTER II

THE BLUE TAXI.

—: &

(By A. Wilson Barrett.)

fAi-L Rights Hesebved.]

CHAPTER I. \ Just after chisk on a winter's evening, a young man, smartly , dressed, descended the steps of the ; Oxford and Cambridge Club and j paused for a .moment on the pave- ( ment of Pall Mall, looking up at the building he had just -left. ] "Good-bye," he murmured, addressing the noble but dingy edifice. "That's the last time I shall see you, old chap,' I expect, except froni the outside. Well, I daresay we (Shall both survive." _.''* And he turned away, in the direction of Trafalgar Square. He was a distinctly prepossessing voune man, handsome, broadshouldered, and well-set up. Brownhaired, with keen, clean-shaven features, he had a firm though humorous mouth, and dark grey eyes which, though they usually wore rather a sleepy appearance, missed very little that was going on, and had generally a little twinkle lurking in their corners. At present there was no twinkle observable,- however, but rather a thoughtful 16ok in their grey depths. Crossing the road near Hampton's, he turned up Whitcomb Street, looking about him as he went, and, entering: one or houses showing notices of "Booms to Let," he inquired terms and other particulars from the people within. ' Finding nothing to suit him, apparently, he continued his way, crossing Coventry.. Street and walking xm Wardonr Street, off Which he turned, into the maze of shady and foreign byeways which is nowaday Soho.

In one of these, after some wandering, a notice gummed to the window of a little newsagent's and tsioture postcard shop attracted his attention, and he stopped, examining the outside of the place attentively. "Soho's cheap," he murmured^ And he stepped, inside. "You have a room to let -here? he asked, addressing a stout old lady,. with a broad, good-natured face, who rose at his entrance. j "Yes. dear," replied the dame, looking at him keenly. "But it wouldn't suit ycit." The young man smiled ait her tone. 'It might," he said, "if it's cheap : enough. ; That's the first consideration. And clean. That's the second." The stout lady eyed him agaan. She was evidently puzzled, but his j sood-humored face and frank, steady j eyes reassured her. - "It is five, shillings a week," she said; "and j •you look as if you could pay that. ! That is. if you're not joking, and j the room's for yourself. And as to : clean, well, it's as clean as I have time to keep it, no more and no less. But perhaps you bad better see it." | "Perhaps I had," said the young man. And the stout lady, calling i a sharp-eyed urchin from the recesses j ' of the shop to take her place, opened a door at the side of the shop entrance, and led the way upstairs. Two flights up she opened a second door, one of two on a landing, and looked at the young man interroga'tivelv- '(That's the room," she •said. "The one over the way's let."

The young man looked round. The .room was a fairly large one, aiid -light, and looked on to the street in front. (It was plain and scantily furnished. In, a sort of alcove in. the.. corner, with a curtain which •©crald be drawn over it, stood a bed. In the centre was a plain wooden table, without a. cover. An armchair, rather ' rickety, a few smaller chairs, a bookcase, and a sideboard practically completed the contents. But it was certainly clean. "I'll take it," he said. "Can I come in now ?.'' The stout lady stared. "Well,-.-I suppose so," she said, still obviously; not quite trusting her senses. "But what about your things?" "They consist of a. couple of trunks, merely."' said the young man. "They are at an address I have just left. If you could send for them for. me, I should be obliged. Perhaps your; "boy downstairs could fetch them ml a taxi. 3' He pulled himself up. "I expect two shillings would cover the fare and something for himself?" he said. The stout lady considered. "Well, I daresay it could," she said "Whereabouts is it they are?" The slightest flush tinged the young

man's face, but only momentarily. "At 250a, PalJ Mall," he said. "My name is Freek—Charles Freck. They will give them to your boy if he asks in my name." The stout lady wiped her red hands on her apron. "Yon won't mind ■paving a week in advance, dea-rie?" she said. "I will pay two," replied the young man. producing half-a-sovereign and handing it t» her. _ "And here is the money' for the taxi." The stout lady's. face lightened, but she still hesitated. "It's all light, dear, I hope," she said at last, "because we are all qxrite, respectable here." The voting man's eyes twinkled. "It's quite right," he said, smiling. "The\ will give me a very good character in Pall Mall, if you care to ask.* And now, if you'll kindly send for my thinga, I'll make myself at home. The stout lady having ~ vanished upon an1 errand which evidently puzzled her exceedingly, Mr Charles Freck closed the door, and having taken a more comprehensive survey of his new home, a task which did not oeeupv him very long, threw himself into the arm-chair and gazed into the depths of the. empty grate. This occupation not proving very enthralling, and the boy not having vet returned with his trunks, he took some letfers from his coat pocket and commenced idly to turn them over. r One of them, which he had read often enough before, but which ■always interested him, he glanced at ajrain. > "Dear Charles," it ran,— "Yours of the 13th received. I need not say that it was a great shock to me. Your suggestions regarding the Ham Trust and my methods of business are both uncalled-for and unfilial. You have been either listenins to the cackle of a parcel of Radical idiots, or reading articles ! subsidised by personal enemies or ( trade rivals of my own. However, : it comes to this: Either I am your ! father or lam not. Either you wsl ■ obey me, or you won't. While your j sainted mother was alive, whose least ■ wish. I never denied, I was content j for yon io live in Europe with her, co to an English University, frequent society you wGve not born into, ,spend money, and generally have a' good . time. When slip died, I guessed it ' was about time for you to como back

and prepare yourself for rcsponsi-1 bilities which, in tke ordinary course j would be yours. I made you a good i offer. You retort by ... well, I euess the Ham Trust has survived i criticism—some —in it's time, and won't wilt under yours. That isn't the point. The. point is that you I decline to connect with, a business? [ that is good enough for your father,

I and has earned Mm some millions of dollars- You talk straight. Let me talk straight. If you don't like ! the Trust, I can't make you, and" I i wouldn't 'want. But if you don't like it, you don't like what comes from it I reckon—money! At all j events you won't get any. I enclose 1 your month's allowance. You shall hare more when you come back and I earn it—in the Trust 1 Till then, • not a cent. I mean what I say. i And don't try to discount'my death, j oither. I'm not bound to leave my j money to you when I die, and I'm I-good'for twenty years yet, in any : case. You've been a good boy in ! your way, and I'm fond of you, but !to put it clearly, it's Trust or Bust • for you from to-day. j ' "John Freck." I Charles Freck put the letter back in his^-poeket as the sharp-eyed boy entered, drawing a couple of leather trunks after him with as much care as if they had contained jewels or j dynamite, and a look of wondering adtairation at the new lodger. ! "Trust or Bust?" he / murmured, with a glance round the room, and at the ragged back of the urchin, disappearing once more through the i doorway. "Well, it is Bust, that's all. I've said what I thought, and ; I'll stick to it. The Ham Trust is 'an infernal octopus strangling everyj thing it comes in contact with, and 'it is not even an honest octopus. I j guess I can live without it.. And jnow I think I'll go and have some ; dinner. There's one thing the Governor does not know, and that is ' that you can dine very cheaply in Soho." As he passed down the stairs, -he drew aside to make way for a woman who was coming up, and for a moment their eyes met. Only for a moment, yet Charles stood whore he was for quite an appreciable space of time* after the swish of her skirt had ceased and a door higher up on the landing had banged; stood there with sparkling eves. H

Then,'pulling-himself together, he descended the rest of the stairs, pausing at the shop, as he passed it. "Who did you say had the room opposite to me?" he asked casually. -The stout lady gave him a queer, sharp glance. "I didn't say," she replied shortly. Charles hesitated. "The young lady who has just gone up " "That's her," said the stout lady. "Her?" asked Charles. . ' "Her that's got the room," replied his landlady, still more shortly," and she turned away to the back of the shop. / "Oh," said Charles, and he passed cut into the street. "Do they grow them like that in this neighborhood ?" he wondered, as Ihe looked round him for a moment,, pondering where he should diiie. "IE so. I am glad I came, for unless misfortune has turned my brain, that was the prettiest girl I've seen for I a twelvemonth." .

The next morning found Charles Freck seated in his five-shilling

apartment, enjoying a two-for-three-halfpence bloater and examining the advertisement columns of the daily papers. He put down tho journals at last, with a slightly dejected air, and descended into the shop, where he found his landlady engaged in preparing for the day's trading. "Mrs Bloom," he said cheerfully. "Good-morning. lam looking for a job." The stout lady eyed him suspiciously. "Oh, go on wid ye," she said. "I'm busy." Charles nodded. "That's right," he said. "And I want to be. I want work, and I want money for it, Now. what do you advise?" Mrs Bloom looked at the exceedingly wel,l-cut and quite new clothes of the speaker, at his clear skin, well-groomed head and white hands, and shrugged her shoulders. "I should go to your friends " slie began. "I haven't any now, or I don't suppose I have," paid Charles. "And in any case, I shan't bother to find out."

"No friends?" said Mrs Bloom, in surprise, "and you living in Pall Mall, and with those clothes and ivory hair-brushes and all."

"I am not living in Pall Mall, but here," replied Charles, smiling. "And the hair-brushes are a mistake, I confess. But the truth is, these clothes will soon bo old enough, and they won't be repeated. To be frank. I have had a sudden reverse of fortune, and lost all my money; I've got to turn to and earn my bread and cheese, with one of your excellent bloaters now and then. And the Question is, how? You know London better than I do. What do you advisse?" Mrs, Bloom, a little less doubtful in her mind, looked at him appraisinglv. "Well, what can you do?" she asked. "That's just what I've been asking myself after wading through the columns of half a dozen papers," replied Charles. "Nothing that the advertisers seem to want, I'm afraid. I haven't been a printer or a compositor, or a footman or a gardener, or anything that is in request, apparently. But lam young and strong;, and particularly willing. I can row, and play football, and drive

Mrs Bloom looked up. ■ "Drive a motor, can you?" she asked. "Well, if you're net laughing, and I'm sure I oan't make up my mind about ye, you'd better try cab-driving." "Cab-driving?" asked Charles. Mrs Bloom nodded. "Ah, they tell me &hat taxi-drivers do nothing but smoke and bet and read the papers, when they ain't running us over, and they've always got a sovereign in their pockets." Charles considered- for a moment. "It sounds just the very tiling," he .said at last. "How do you do it?"

"You have to get a license, and, you have to join a class for learning the streets and things., But my niece's young man could tell you more about it than me. He's just going through with it himself." "Well, put me on to your niece's young man, and we'll settle it together," said Charles cheerfully. "I really think you have made an admirable suggestion. Where is he to be found?"

"You'll find him at the garage at Brixton," said Mrs Bloom. "Two, Homiton Street, it is-, and his name is Wicks."

"Mr Wicks and I will get straight at it," said Charles, putting on his hat. "I'll see him at once."

And nodding cheerfully to his landlady he turned Brixtonwards.

As he neared the end of his street he became conscious of a very attractive female figure a short distance in front of him, and going the same way, a figure which in some way or •other seemed slightly familiar to him, but whicih at the moment he coulvj not place.

"I seem to know that figure, and .vet I don't," he thought, watching tlie graceful poise, the swing of the hips, the neat little heels of the girl in front. "But I believe I should like to. She's neat and quiet and, smart altogether and at once, and that's rare. I wish, without being obtrusive, I could get a look at her face."

The Ham Trust, or its money, had been this much good to Charles up to the present, that the wish, with him had generally been to do. For the moment, therefore, he forgot Mr Wicks and taxi-cabs and .manoeuvred cautiously towards the accomplishment of his object—a glimpse of the unknown's features.

But cautious as he had been, it appeared that his intentions had been not unremarked by the object of them, for, quickening her pace, she drew away from him again, and a little raising of her shoulders, a little stiffening of the graceful back before him, seemed to hint that his design had been suspected, and that it was unwelcome.

"She must have eyes in her back —such a pretty back, too," thought Ctarles. "I don't want to be rude, bat I do want to see her face."

In another moment he had his chance, and a second after he almost regretted it. For a motor whizzing suddenly round a coiner, as she was in the act of crossing the road, forced the girl to turn and seek the shelter of the pavement again, and this turn brought iher face to face with Charles.

One swift contemptuous glance, I and she had passed on again, leaving ■ liim reddening, but delighted. j For1 it was the girl of the staircase aaain, his neighbor from across the landing.

"She's prettier even than I fancied," he thought. And then: i "What a look! And I hadn't even . begun to do any tiling at all!" i Standing on the kerb, careless of the jostling crowd, he watched the graceful figure, in its neat tailormade frook, pass out of sight. j "What on earth is a girl like that ' living at Mrs Bloom's for?" he wondered, as he went on his way again. _ But if he had looked at his reflection in any of the glasses in the Coventry Street shops, he could have understood, that she. the unknown, might easily have asked herself the same question.

He did nothing of the sort, howover; he vras not vain. And swinging along to the top of the Haymarket so cheerfully as if he still participated in the Ham Trust's bloated revenues, he jumped on to a Brixton. 'bus.

(To be continued.)