THE SHOW GIRL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13939, 22 December 1908, Page 3

THE SHOW GIRL.

|, PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

— ♦ BY MAX PEMBERTON. Author of "The Iron Pirate." *' Red Morn." " A Puritan's Wife," "The Hundred Days." Etc. CHAPTER XXIV. [In which Henry Gastonard keeps his promise to Martha Warrington.] 4, The Walk, Hampetead, N.W., September 21st, 1905. Dear Martha,—l have owed you a-letter for a long time, but really, my dear cousin, a man whose honeymoon is but a fortnight old has little time to think of the sun—and his day 6 are brief enough. I was sorry to hear that Arthur considers my marriage a "mere scramble on to the banks after a wild plunge into the vortex of sin." I hope he was not eating new bread and butter when he uttered this masterpiece, marriage, I remember, was not made much of by St. Paul, and Arthur used to bo a Pauline untu he met you. What ho is now I have not yet discovered. You, who have broken the box of sweet spices at his feet, are right to complain of the holes in his socks— but as a married man I have no sympathy with you. This is dreadful' news, too, about your Mir. These new dyes are troublesome tenants, and do not take our hair upon a repairing lease. It really was very noble of you to dye it so bright a red for the sake of the Pageant. And now, you say that the dye won't come out, and that you must return to Beldou still wearing the brand of Boadicea. Cheer up, Martha. Have not some of the noblest women in history—chief amongst them our Elizabeth of blessed memory—dressed auburn locks tor posterity and gloried in their possessions.' For my part, had I known of the tact when writing my skit, "The People of the Pageant," I would have mentioned it to your lasting honour. The little book appears to be getting about— had no idea that such a trifle could interest so many. But concerning more serious things. I am living, as you wished me to live, in a box of a cottage upon Hampstead Heath, lhe place is pretty enough, and now that we are married I am putting some comfort into it. This is only to be done secretly and by stealth. Chairs, which were hot there -night, are discovered at breakfast time. A new piano dropped from the heavens, so to speak, and has notes that play. I have bought a splendid brass bed, and the men rigged it up while Mimi was out shopping. She suspects me, but says little. I have not told her in the very word that I am poor; but I have led her to that belief, and her devotion is the consequence. Would it be foolish to tell you, Martha; that I am not wholly happy in spite of all this? The vaguest fears afflict me. I know not from day to day what evil is to overtake me, and yet I am conscious of evil. Perchance it is but the aftermath of golden days, lived in a sunshine I had never hoped to see. Perhaps it is but a lover's humour cannot say, and yet it is as real as any thought that ever dwelt with me.

You must know t<hat old Paddy O'Connell, the wild Irishman with the'thunderous voice and the jet black locks and the magnificent figure, remains, good friend that he is, in London to " see me through it," whatever that may mean. He is lodged at the Jack Straw Castle Inn, on the very summit of the Heath here, and he is with us the best part of the day, and often the bast part of the night. As Mimi refuses (because of my poverty) to engage a servant, and is at once housekeeper, cook, and general servant to the establishment, I welcome Paddy as valet in ordinary, and do not refuse him. At the brushing of a coat or the carrying of a coal-hod he is immense ; while his choice of wines and cigars is not to be questioned. For the rest, he has a new scheme of money-making ready for me every day. His last was as wild as his: firstit "would do cousin Arthur good to hear of it. . -- - Paddy thought be 'had discovered a new furnace and retort for the making of gas. He wished to put a thousand into the thing and for me to work it in his interest. The invention, it appears, was run by a sharp American, who had the machine set up in a mews near Baker-street, and invited us there to witness his experiments. I went by appointment, and, of course, Paddy accompanied me. Apparently, the inventor made gas out of anything you like. He had a small furnace and a retort with a meter attached. I don't know much about the business, but I have a pair of eyes in my head, and I used them carefully while we witnessed the first experiments. Certainly they were wonderful. The inventor lighted a fire with a little bundle of sticks and then put all sorts of things into the furnacebits of paper, bits of cloth, rubbish from dust-bins; and all the time the meter showed that gas -was being made. He declared to us on his word of honour that he could make gas " out of dead cats " if he chose. I went away puzzled, but Paddy was enchanted. " See here," says he, "is it a fortune to ye or is it not?" "My dear Paddy," said I, "fortunes do not come quite so kindly—l want to think a bit." "Think be hanged .'"says he. "'Ti*6 thinking ye have been for five years or more. Will ve starve or make gas?" " Gas," said I, " does not generally starve Paddy. There's a lot of it about in London." "To the devil with it, Harry. Will ye take the man's offer or leavo it?" " I'll tell you to-morrow, Paddy, when we have seen him again." He was very angry at this, and would not come to lunch with me. Of course, I told Mimi all about it, and asked her opinion. She knows less about gas than I do; but she has a wonderful little howl of her own. and her wisdom often puts me to shame, / "i'eople cannot make gas out of rubbish, Harry. lam sure of it. Did you light the fire yourself, or did he?" Oh, he did, Mimi." "Very well; tako some wood to-morrow and offer to light it for him." 1 told her that I would do so, and we changed the subject with a laugh. She had made a wonderful omelet, but had put ou~ instead of salt into it, and I had to confess that a savoury omelet made with sugar was a delicacy to captivate the heart of Brillat Savarin. The afternoon we spent in the lanes on our bicycles, and at night a mollified Paddy came to dine with ua and made no rcferenc3 to the gas, though I observed that he took but a moderate quantity of that commodity with his whisky. Ton o'clock had been the hour fixed for our second visit to Baler-street, and we were there, i..; the Americans say, on time. I don't know whether the inventor took the matter as already settled, but he wore a fine frock-coat and had a pretty white rose in his buttonhole. The usual preliminaries being over, he told me that he proposed to make gas out of a box of child's bricks, an old volume of illustrated newspapers, and a woman's discarded shawl. I listened patiently, and ■''— not interfere until the moment he was about to light the fire; when I stepped forward.and produced the bundle of sticks with which Mimi had provided me. ; "Look here," said I, "if you expect me to put any money into this, I must light the fire to-day." Well, Martha, if a. thunderbolt had hit him the man could not have looked more surprised. And yet his sang-froid did not desert him; ho pretended to acquiesce with the best of good grace. "It is immaterial to me," he said; "you will find the furnace a little dampso many queer things- get into it. Bv all means try, and I will get a pair of bellows to help you." He was out of the room in a jiffy, and we heard him running down the stairs. For my part I made no attempt whatever to light his fire. "Paddy," said I, "he will return with those bellows on the kalends of March. I'll give you fifty pounds if he comes back to-day." Paddy would not hear of it. "What!" cried he, "d'ye mean to say we have met with a swindler?" " Undoubtedly, and a very impudent one." " I'll never believe it. Ye do the man an injustice; 'tis a lie, I say!"

" Very well, Paddy; send out for some lunch and the morning newspapers. We can scon prove it one way or the other." Poor man, he was in a fearful state, for there is no more trusting soul in all Ireland to-day than Paddy O'Connell. I need not tell you, Martha, that the man never came back. The secret of his furnace was the secret of the bundle of sticks with which he lighted his., fire. . These were chemically prepared, and generated the gas which caused the meter to register. And so, alas, poor Paddy! There was no more sorrowful man in Hampstead than my good friend that night. If he made no actual reference to the evanescent subject of gas, I observed that he took plain water with his whisky and uttered certain pious aphorisms concerning the wickedness of this world in general and of its merchants in particular. Forty-eight hours afterwards he had another scheme prepared. I am to set up in London as an art connoisseur—to advise the dealers concerning old pictures and the public concerning new ones. This, he says, will bring me a decent income, at any rate, arid, assure me the friendship of millionaires. " And who knows," he asks me triumphantly, " that one of 'em won't take a fancy to you and make you a, partner in his affairs.' 'Tis a thing that has happened, and not so wonderful. Ye have Miini to keep, and ye may have the children. Will ye be sitting idle while she starves, Harry? Shame on ye for the thought." To which I can make no response, Martha. Idleness has caught me in its iron grip, and lam spellbound. The sunny .days pass so swiftly. There is a crown "of tousled hair upon my pillow when I wake; I see the one face in all the world that should be there when I go to my sleep at night. Mimi herself appears to "live in a kind of wonderland. Sometimes she dreams through long spells of silence; there are other hours when the old life stirs in her blood and all the riot and merriment of the Butte must claim her. Again and again I have spoken to her of her childhood, but can awaken no new memories. A wood, and a lonely road, and a woman's terrible facesuch are her impressions-. To speak of them is to recall those phantoms of fear which have haunted me from the beginning and are not unknown to her. I repeat that they may be the creations of happiness itself, for what is left for me to desire but this possession of all that I have sought— this peace which passeth understanding? Convey, I beg of you, to cousin Arthur such impressions of "my affection as will suit his mood. His sermon on the "Damnable Errors of Modernism " I should have thought a little advanced for the simple lisherfolk at Lowestoft. As for the holi-dav-makers, they must be hard put to it sometimes to discover something new —so I suppose they went in. The main thing is, did you play to capacity. I mean, in ordinary parlance, had you a good collection? It would be cruel to hear that the damnable heresies aforesaid were assessed by Lowestoft at a. sum of seven-and-six sterling—the amount in the plate upon the last occasion when it was * put before —Your affectionate Cousin, Harry.

(To be continued daily.)