A FOOL AND HIS FOLLY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 12853, 29 April 1905, Page 3 (Supplement)

A FOOL AND HIS FOLLY.

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT]

BV G. W. APPLETON, Author of "A Forgotten Past." "A Tragedy of Error," " Doubles and Quits," etc.. etc.

CHAPTER I. Ul' to a certain period I entertained 110 over-kindly regard fur the memory of mv late uncle, James Bracebridge, of Tvyford Hall, in the county of Suffolk, and fur this reason: By will lie devised all his r<?al and personal estate to his only sou Reginald, upon conditions the irksomeness of which, as affecting myself, you will shortly understand.

The conditions were these : That Reginald was not to come into his inheritance until he had attained the age of twenty-live, and that. I. as sole executor and trustee, endued with plenary powers, was to pay him as little or as much as in my discretion 1 thought necessary during this long period of probation. For my services in this respect I received a legacy of £2000. Bv a further clause in the will, should Reginald die without issue the estate reverted to me.

Now, I must frankly admit that at first I accepted my uncle's behest as a very flattering testimony to my superior judgment, and was vastly proud of it. This feeling, however, Mas of very short duration. I had cheerfully accepted responsibilities of which T then but dimly understood the import, but quickly learned after the decease of my uncle.

Reginald, at that time, had just turned twenty and was still at Oxford. He was ten years my junior, and having met him only at rare intervals I knew but little of my cousin's character. He was a handsome young fellow, frank and engaging in his manners, but, to my seeming, of no great intellectual calibre 01 strength of will. This had been my cursory summing up of the lad, and was true so tai as it went. On the day of his lather's funeral, however,. I noticed that he displayed no emotion whatever. At the graveside his face wore a bored expression, and when the first clod tell upon the coffin he turned away with a sense of relief I could plainly see. He stepped briskly up to my side. . " Did you draw up the will?" he asked. "Yes," I answered. "Good," said lie: "let us get the thing over as soon as possible. I wast to catch the next train, back. I've a card party in my rooms to-night. Br the way, who are the executors?" " There is but one—myself," I replied. "Bravo!" said he, slapping me on the back. " The governor has been keeping me on short commons lately. Let me have a hundred before I go. that's a good chap." I looked at the lad in dismay, not tinmingled with supreme disgust. " The callous young monster." I said to myself; then aloud, and in my sternestmanner, " Better -wait and hear the will read. X will discuss the matter with you then." "Oh! all right," said he. "Needn't be nasty about it, though." I made no reply to that, and we returned to the hall in silence. Arrived there he was all impatience to get the thing over, a.s he had termed it, but I did not exert myself over-much to gratify him in this respect. There were various small bequests to old retainers on the estate, and these 1 leisnrely summoned to the library. Quite half an hour was consumed in tkis fashion, during which Reginald sat fidgeting on his chair, looking at his watch at short intervals, and giving mouth to petulant expressions of impatience from time to time. When all concerned were assembled at last I read the will with studied deliberation, nodding pleasantly to housekeeper, butler, coachman, gardener, etc., as I mentioned tlteir names in turn. At last 1 cam? to the clause affecting my cousin Reginald. He listened open-mouthed as I read, and then sprang from his chair. "Oh. here! 1 say," he.shouted, "'this is too dashed absurd, 'you know. I can't stand this at any price." " I am afraid you will have to put up with it," I retorted curtly, and then, haying dismissed the servants. I added : "A our manner. Reginald, shocks. me beyond measure. Have you no sense of decency that you talk .of rushing away to card parties on such a solemn occasion as this?" " What does it matter?" said be. " Where does a sense oI decency come in? The governor is dead. No good to howl over it, is there? It won't bring him back again, will it? And now, why the- deuce did you let him make suet a da/died rotten Mill/ Can't it be upset?" I smiled sardonically, I fear, at that. By whom? Not you, certainly. The presumption of the law is that a sane man can deal with his own property in any wayhe may think fit, when unentailed, as in the present instance. Doubtless he had some gcod reasor lor making the stipulation you seem to object to." "No, he hadn't—at leastthere were one or two scrapes I got into at Oxford which seemed to annoy him a bit. But Lord! Man! Can't youth have its little fling? Why should he hare taken offence at trifles? I feel that I have been very badly treated. But then, you are not a halt bad sort, Frank, and will make thing* pleasant, I am sure. Let me have that- £100," and-ho looked at his watch, " foi I really must be off in a very few minutes now."

"You will get no hundred pounds from me to-day," I said, in my sternest manner. "Not on*, dingle halfpenny. For of all the callous, unfeeling young cub-,* I evet heard tell oi' you are easily in tlie lirst flight. 1 am exceedingly angry with you, and not a- little disgusted, too. let me tell you, Don't ;'orget tha you are still in leading strings —and that I am at the end of the strings, and will eiercis- the power vested in me in exact-accordance with your future behaviour. You have made a very bad beginning today." He listened, open mouthed, to this, and then his manner suddenly changed. In a wheedling tone lie said: "Come, come, dear old chap—don't sit or. a fellow like that. Can't 011 make a few allowances under the circumstances.'' What, after all, is a mere hundred pounds, and what does it matter whether you give it. to me to-day or next week? 1 really need it, Frank". Ton honour. I do. lam sorry I have offended you. Upon my word I didn't mean to do it. Its just my sidy, stupid way of doing things— nutting my foot in it. Rome of these days I daresay I'll get it little sense knocked into me. Suppose we call it a pony, Frank. 1 may be able to squeeze through on that." But I was inflexible. "I have said it. Not one single halfpenny today. Send me in an exact list of your debts, and all items of your cash expenditure during the past year, and I will give the matter a careful consideration and determine upon the amount I will allow you in th?. future. ' "Well," said he, with a forced laugh, "it seems a rum .sort of business; hut there is no use in quarrelling with the chancellor of the exchequer. I suppose —1 must borrow a bit. thai is all." With thai he ros: and went t« tht window-.

"Ail! lime is William with t)io trap; iuct. time to catch my train. (.»ood-hye, Frank. Don't treat me too harshly. >011 will find me all right. I'll send on that list to-morrow. T.vta.' . With that l.c was up and away, leaving He to my own reflections, which were far from being pleasant ones. I can assure you. Moreover, 1 suddenly awoke to the startling fact that not only the administration of a .large estate, but "of a somewhat unwieldy domestic establishment. had suddenly devolved iipmi me. and this, I *' a bacheloi like nivseif required a deal of thinking ovei. I? Time, however, does not serve for me to '.!dwell upon this, nor to treat but cursorily |j>f, the events of the nex'< two years, My *tory primarily concerns Reginald alone and

his fantastic doings. My worst fears with regard to the career of that young gentleman proved to be only too well founded. The list of debts lie sent me in duo course from Oxford was a portentous one, and I was forced to take energetic measures at once to prevent the recurrence of such a scandalous state of affairs.

Soou, however, I learned of midnight revels in his rooms— bar-room entanglements —of unseemly escapades of every degree, and the whole wearisome business culminated at last in a letter 1 received from the dean of his college informing me that Reginald's further presence there was undesirable from every point of view—that rustication failed to meet the case—as there seemed no possible chance of his ever taking his degree, and with great regret the authorities had determined upon his expulsion. For a time this sobered him. He wrote me a letter full of contrition, went down to Twyford Hall, lived there qnietlv, and for a time I really began to think that lie bad turned over a new leaf. Eventually, however, lie came up to town, took chambers in the Albany, and fell back into his old courses, and although, as holder of the purse-strings, 1 fairly well kept him ill leash, he was for ever coming to mo to help him out of one ignoble scrape or another; and thus I found much valuable time wasted, for which my uncle's £2000 but poorly compensated me. If at any time you had chanced to he passing through Brunswick Square you might have noticed on the door of Nr. 210 an unpretentious brass plate bearing the following device: —

" Frank Bract-bridge, Solicitor and Commissioner for Oaths.'

So now you know my name and profession. My business was a large and lucrative one. demanding all my time and attention, and. as 1 say, I could ill afford to waste precious hours and even days in extricating Reginald from his mantold difficulties.

When, at last, I put on the screw and withheld all supplies, he promptly outoutwitted me by having recourse to certain AN est End Shy locks who very well knew that, my power of veto had' its limits. It was the same with r> Bond-street jeweller or two. and thus his father's well-meant intentions were easily frustrated, greatly. I need not say, to my discomfiture and annoyance.

Matters had gone 011 in this unsatisfactory way for just upon two years. 1 had not seen him for several months. I ascertained, by inquiry, that during this interval he was livincr abroad, mostly in Paris, but failed to loam his address. One morning, however. among my litters T found one bearing the Paris postmark. I opened this at once and read : — , " One who knew Reginald Brace l !)ridge at Oxford and greatly deplored the disgrace which fell upon him there feels if Lis painful duty to write and inform you that lie (Reginald) has fallen among thieves of both sexes here in Paris. "He would strongly urge you. therefore, to come over without delay and rescue the foolish fellow from their clutches before, it is too late. "He lias, or had. a large amount of valuable jewellery with him and has b»en spending money on a lavish scale. You will find him at the Hotel Scribe." This was the last straw, but mv duty ■was nlain. The same evening I took train for Paris. CHAPTER 11. At half-past six on the following morning I arrived at the Hotel Scribe, and, in replv to my queries. I was told that a 31. Bracebridge was stopping there, and was now doubtless in his room fast asleep. He had his coffee sent up usually at nine o'clock, and was rather impatient of being disturbed before that hour. Would Ibe good enough to call again later on? I felt this- to be quite satisfactory. Secure of my quarry, it merely meant dawdling away a couple of hours, than which nothing was easier, during the summer time in Taris. I 'breakfasted leisurely in a boulevard cafe, and then strolled down to the Halles, that wonderful "ventre de Paris," and there spent an hour right pleasantly. Early birds indeed are the Parisians, and by half-past eight tljo whole city had settled down in good earnest to the day's work.

It was just upon the stroke ol nine ■when I returned to the Hotel Scribe and ascertained that M. Bracc-bridge bad not vet rune for bis coffee: so I sauntered! about for another half-hour, and' . called again. M. Bracebridge was still, asleep. At ten I received the same answer. Then, fearing that he had given me the slip, ,I said that my business was imperative. that I was a near relative of his— producing my card in proof of the same— that I had travelled from London expressly to see him— bluntly insisted upon his being called at once. After some further demur instructions were given to this effect. The answer shortly came that M. Bracebridge had evidently spent the night elsewhere, as lie was "tot in. his loom, and his bed was undisturbed. Tliis was very amazing, and T at op.co asked lor pen, ink. and paper, and wrote a note saving that I would return to the hotel at twelve sharp, that 'I had come to Paris purposely to see him on business of extreme importance, and on 110 account/ must lie fail to see me. Ibis I left at the office. with strict injunctions that it I should 'be handed to M. Bracebridge immediately' upon his arrival. Punctually at noon I returned. The polite official in 'he office smiled, shook his head, and point el to my undelivered note. Upon the envelope enclosing the latter I ti;«n wrote, " Back at two —and went out to luii"!). for hungry enough I was bv this time, I can assilre you. At two ] received the same reply. A vague feeling of anxiety now began to creep into my mind, and it was not finite unrninglcd with suspicion either. However, there was nothing for if but to possess my soul ill patience for another two hours, and I left a verbal message to that effect. Upon my return at four the clerk nodded pleasantly. " Knfiii, monsieur," said he, handing me ,i telegram. . It was addresser' to the manager ot the. hotel, and had been sent from Brussels at a-'juartei past three. It read thus: — "Obliged to leave for Berlin at a moment's notice. Retain luggage until my return. and forward my account to Frank Bracebridge. 210. Brunswick Square, London, "who will .settle t.h» same.— BRACKHr.IDGK."' r road this with amazement, and upon looking 11 1 at the clerk I saw that lie held my card in his hand. j This was a pretty ado. Not only had' T come to Paris on a fool's errand but here was T at once confronted with a. virtual demand for moucv which I could not well ignore. It was very exasperating, but I quickly perceived that there was no alternative to making the best of a bad business. 80,' banding the telegram back to the clerk. I said : "It is very amazing. My time is precious. and I have wasted an entire day, out I suppose it cannot be helped. You see, ot course, bv thai card that I am tlifc person referred to in the telegram. Make out the account, at once, and -v'-V you are doing so. I siion like to .see the manager. T was soon closeted with the latter, who expressed his entire willingness to accept mv cheque in liquidation of the account. This, whei* brought in at my request, proved to be ol formidable dimensions, totalling several lhousa.nl francs. As this was bv 110 means unexpected 1 wrote out he cheque without so much as a. glance as the details. To what purpose? I thought; and then I plied the manager with questions as t< Reginald's mode of life, his movements in 'Paris, his associates, etc. ; but, bless von! the bland and childlike ignorance of that hotel manager was an objectlesson to one seeking to know the ways of the world. Not one single grain of information could I elicit from him. It would have been absurd to cavil at thai, but it was verv vexing all the same. I 1 hanked him for his courtesy, and came awav. , At ten o'clock that same evening T ran across the platform of the Gare du Nord, and was just in time to leap into a stdass compartment of the express for Calais as it was gliding out of ths station. I sank into a corner scat, feeling "dead beat"—as the saying goes—after twenty-four tedious and practically sleepless hours spent in a futile question. T 110noticed. in a casual way. that my sole travelling companion, who sat in the further corner opposite, was a woman. I simply made a mental note of tho fact, and within a minute or two was sleeping like a top. As tb:' train pulled up with a jerk at Amiens I merely opened my eyes, and was

dimly conscious that the woman was still there—then back to dreamland again. An bou, or more, must have passed when, fully awake, and glancing at the opposite corner, I found the woman's eves fixed upon me. In them was a look of half-puzzled surprise, not; far removed from one of recognition. Then, as our glances met she smiled; and, with that, my heart leaped to my throat, I lifted my hat, and took a seat beside her. Like a flash it all came back to me again. A year before, during a short holiday trip on the Continent, I heard, one night, at Baden-Baden—in the grounds of the old Kursaal—a cry for help. Running in the direction whence the appeal had come I found a woman fiercely struggling with a great bearded man. At Bight of me she renewed her cry for help, and with a bound 1 was beside her. Now L am a biggish, man—nearly six teet three, and broad in proportion, and when occasion serves I hit very hard. So with a welldelivered under-cut i laid the man . flat on his back, and I knew that he would not get' up again until he had time to recover his rather widely scattered faculties. ]. gave my arm to the lady, who was trembling like a leaf, and escorted her to her hotel. There I saw that she was a re-' markably beautiful woman. She thanked me effusively, and I went my way. I deferred my departure for a day or two— but 1 did not meet her again. " Since that time the beautiful face of th.i; woman had been many and many a tune in my thoughts, and now—lo ! here we were sitting side by side, and alone in the Calais express. The situation was a novel, ant by no means, a disagreeable one. "Surely 1 am not mistaken," I said. "It was at Baden-Baden, was it not?" She extended lie:* hand, frankly. "Yes," she said. "And you rendered me such a service as one can never forget. From the very depths of my soul, I thank you." As 1 held her little gloved hand in mine fov an instant I made a mental inventory of her charms. An adorable figure, a wealth of hair, golden bronze in colour: eves large, dark, and luminous : skin of ivory whiteness, just tinged, in appropriate places with delicate pink: the mouth of a Grecian goddess—with lips ruddier than the cherry, and milk-white teeth ueeping deliriously through. In short, the loveliest woman my eyes, had ever dwelt upon. "i deserve no thanks," I replied. "I simply responded to the cry of a woman in distress. There is 110 merit in that. I trust you were no worse for the adventure. I had hoped to see you again before 1 left Baden-Baden.' 1

The words were 110 sooner said than I repented of my boldness; but she took it in excellent part. "1 experienced the same desire," she said. "I feared that in the agitation of the moment. I had not. sufficiently thanked you. But. I was in mortal terror of the man, ancl tied by the early morning train. Had I known your address 1 would have communicated with you." "Then you knew the man?" I submitted. ''Intimately, lie was my husband."' The reply appeared rather odd, but in lieu of anything better to say 1 simply returned : "Oh. indeed!" "You seem surprised," said she. "I can see it in your face. But you will cease to wonder when I tell you that this man lias been a curse, a nightmare, a terror to me. almost from the hour of our marriage." Mv sympathies were at once aroused. "A very great misfortune indeed,' I said at a venture, "though, 1 trust, not beyond the power of redress." " 1 fear it is." she answered sadly. For nearly a year I have been free from bis persecutions, for the simple reason that he was powerless to pursue me. But I never know when he may reappear upon the scene, and what then may happen. 1 have 110 real sense of security whatever." "Can you' not take measures of precaution?'' I submitted. "I know, not by what means I can do so," she answered. "I fear the ease is a hopeless one, and you see in me one of the most wretched women on the face of the earth."

I was about to frame a suitable reply to this when the whistle sounded, the train slackened up —and. to my astonishment, we glided into Calais station. I pulled down the window, and heard somebody shouting: " A telegram for Madame la Baronno Slaviusky." She started to her feet. "What is that?" she exclaimed. I repeated the words. "Call the man. It is lor me. What can it mean?"

I saw that she was trembling with excitement, and at once hailed the official, who at that moment wen f shouting by. I threw open, the carriage door. ' "It is for madame. here," J said, and stepped upon the platform. She followed, clutched the telegram eagerly, and broke it open. I saw her eyes dilate as with horror as she read. Not a. vestige of colour was left, in her face.

"If is just as I feared," she said, turning to me. "I cannot quite explain, but it is impossible for me to go 011 to London tonight. I must return by the next train. Wlia<" am I tc do? Mv trunk is registered through to Charing Cross." "Can i be ot any assistance?" I asked. "Oil. it' you would kindly oblige me," she said, and she opened her purse. "This is the voucher.' she added, bawling it to me. "If you will be good enough to look after it, see it placed in the cloak-room at Charing Cross, and fiend me the receipt, I shall be so, so obliged. You now know my name— Baroness Slavinsky, and my address is the Grand Hotel, Palis. May I venture to give you so much trouble?"

"A needless question, madame," I returned. " I shall be delighted, and I wish the trouble, as you term it, were iniiaiiely greater. There is the question of the Customs. however. The trunk must be opened, you know." To be. sura. My wits have gone woolgathering, I fear," and she handed mo a kev.

1 then saw her and her small belongings into the waiting-room. There her manner entirely changed. She made no further reference to the telegram, and I reflected that something of due import must have happened. In parting, however, her old mood returned. " You have been more than good to me," she said, fervently—"more than good. Some day, perhaps, you may learn all, and that reminds inc. ! do not yet know your name and address." "A thousand pardons," I stammered, turning guiltily red, 1 imagine, as I fumbled in mv pocket for my card-case.. Without so much as glancing a 1 the card T gave her, she slipped it into her purse, and said: " T shall not forget." Then the boat signal sounded, we exchanged a final handshake, and T made a dash for the steamer, my head fairly swimming with strange and unwonted sensations. I duly arrived a-t (.'baring Cross, and, voucher in hand, approached one ot the Cus-toms-house officials. "All right, sir.'' said lie. "Here yon a're." and he pointed to a huge Saratoga, trunk, upon which I noticed one of the Grand Hotel labels. I produced the key, and turned the lock. The Customs officer lifted the lid. and exclaimed: "Mv God!" "What, is the matter?" I asked, very much astonished "Matter! You ought to know what is the matter. Have a. look at your luggage." I looked, and what T saw turned me faint with horror. There, huddled up, in evening dress, was the corpse of my cousin Reginald. his glazed eyes looking up, as if in a dying endeavour to meet mine. (To be continued.) [Another instalment of this very interesting story will be given ill these columns oil Monday next, and continued daily until its completion.]