SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14110, 12 July 1909, Page 3

SHORT STORY.

DRAMATIC COINCIDENCE.

The sullen blackness of the December sky was unbroken save for the faint glimmer of one solitary star. An icy, penetrating wind swept across the almost deserted park, freezing tho blood of its only remaining occupantsthe outcasts.

Upon the end of a seat, beneath tho branches of a tree that afforded little protection from the piercing breeze, sat a man; his head sunk on his chest, which was in turn supported by his knees.

His tattered garments were too scanty and threadbare to withstand the icy blasts; indeed, they Mere barely sufficient to retain tho small amount of animal warmth his illnourished body contained. He shivered, shrugged his shoulders, and coughed with a vehemence that reverberated through his entire frame. Ho was one of life's failures; a derelict of destiny—penniless, starving, and alone. The darkness of the heavens resembled tho attitude of the world towards him—all a blank; tho one long orb, himself, isolated and solitary. Down, and without & shelter, tho world heeded him not.

He shivered once more and coughed again. To revive the circulation in his benumbed and rigid limbs, ho rose and walked, or rather staggered, in the direction of the Serpentine. The light of a lamp illuminating his features for a moment revealed a face, onoo evidently handsome and refined, but now disfigured by suffering and care. As lie tottered along something seemed to whisper that the end was approaching—the inevitable was at hand.

Passing the Serpentine, he hesitated for an instant—clenched his teeth, and moved on. Too exhausted to proceed further, lie again sank down on an empty bench. A weary drowsiness immediately overcame him, rendering him oblivious of his wretched condition and surroundings. Ho slept— a sleep brightened by visions of happier days. With a start he awoke in response to the pressure t>f a hand on his shoulder. To his astonishment it was not. the expected constable, but an elderly gentleman in overcoat and opera-hat. " Poor beggar." said tho stranger, " you are cold and damn, and thoroughly done up. Take this brandy, it will pull you round until you get some food." "Thanks, thanks," muttered the outcast huskil'% as, handing back the half-empty flask, he felt the warm stimulant rushing through his blood. Heaven reward your kindness to one who can never hope to repay you." " Pull yourself together," replied the other, "you can repay me; but first you must come and have something to eat." Tho outcast was too surprised to reply; too hungry to require a second invitation. Hailing a passing cab at. Albert (iate, they drove in silence through the West/End, alighting before _ some mansions in the vicinity of the British Museum. The stranger led the way into an excellently furnished room. A telegram awaited him, but he only glanced at it, and, with an oath, flung it. unopened, on the table. Motioning the outcast, to a chair, he placed before him a small table containing a flagon of wine, a quantity of fowl, and some rich cake.

"Eat heartily," he commanded, "it will steady your nerves; I will be Ijack in an instant."

I The outcast ate ravenously, the food seemj ing sweeter than any ho had ever tasted ) before. Every particle of it disappeared, I only too rapidly: and he blushed beneath | his dishevelled exterior as ho heard his beneI factor return.

j Wearing a smoking-jacket tho latter • puffed a cigar, a box of which, together j with a revolver, he placed on the table beside his guest., before seating himself on tho I opposite side of the fire.

For a time they smoked in silence, the outcast wondering why he had been brought there, and for what the revolver was intended. He was now able to obtain a good view of the other. The features we-e typically those of a man of tho world. A bloated, sensual face, small crafty eyes, thick neck, a cold, cynical expression; in fact, the whole appearance was suggestive of the unscrupulous but successful financier: a type of individual the outcast bad little reason to esteem.

j " You arc naturally wondering why I have I brought you here," suddenly remarked the | other. Probably you ascribe it to sentij ment; if so, you are mistaken. J am not | exactly a philanthropist; at least, I have never been credited with that failing. But : perhaps I had better not weary you nor j waste your time with useless preliminaries; ! I will be perfectly frank. To begin, I am, or rather was, what is known as a financier. Recognising that to make money I couldn't afford to be scrupulous, I wa-s successful. Of course, a few must have gone down in the struggle, but I that was their look out. they shouldn't have I heeded tempting advertisements. They I tried to pit their feeble minds against mine | and the inevitable. They expected somej thing for nothing and have only themselves I j to blame. j "I had a good run, hut at last luck has j changed. It is my turn now, all my latest • transactions having gone to pieces. My ' last hope has suddenly collapsed, and, as I haven't been too particular, to-morrow will reveal all. Ruined thousands will curse me; j but I will be as much in need of sympathy as they. > - " To-morrow, even if I escape imprisonment, I will be penniless. I can't face it. lam determined I won't but I haven't the nervo to do it myself. In a word, there is only one way out—the revolver. That is why you are here. When we are ready you must shoot straight and make no mistake. You understand. He stopped and took a pull at the brandy. "Surely you are not serious; you can't mean it," exclaimed the outcast in astonishment; "with your business capacities why not make a fresh start and a new fortune, with which you could recompense your creditors?"

" Why haven't you made a new start yourself?' asked the financier "simply because without capital it is impossible. I have none; anyhow, it is too late. To-morrow they will be howling for my Wood, but it isn't' them T fenr, it is the disgrace, the ruin, the consequent misery. If I could face it, .you wouldn't be hero to-night. That small purse of gold on tho table will be your reward; it. is all I have left. To me it is nothing, to you it will bo a lot. Come, you will not refuse?"

"Your money iempts me, but I cannot touch it." answered the outcast, shaking his head. "I am sorry for disappointing you; but you must do your own dirty work. I will not stain my hands with such an affair." " It will he nothing," resumed the other: "a few more glasses of brandy will send me to sleep. Then you can put the revolver to my brain and make a short job of it. You needn't look, you can shut your eyes; while for me it will be painless." "But what about the renort?" inquired the outcast, " the noise will be heard all over the house. What guarantee is there that I mightn't swing for the transaction? Everything would be against me; a ease of premeditated murder, nothing could save me."

"Fear not," was the reply, " that is a contingency I have not overlooked. Part, of tho building is empty, and the occupants of the remainder are away. I have given my servant a holiday, so wo are alone. You can leave quietly: no one will ever.dream of suspecting you." "Why not do it yourself if you are so determined?" asked the outcast. "Why pay another?" " Because," was the reply, " during these last few hours I have discovered that I am a coward. I did try, but at the last moment my courage failed. I haven't the nerve to do it, nor the pluck to face to-morrow.

"Besides, I don't wish to give my creditors and the evening papers the satisfaction of gloating over my suicide. I want it to appear that I was murdered; we can toss things about the room as if there had boon a struggle and a big fight for life. It must not be advertised that John L. Saunders was a coward." " John L. Saunders At the sound of the name the outcast started violently and turned pale. Then bis lips quivered and his face grew hard, as if he had made a great resolve. Tho financier was too occupied with the brandy to notice his confusion and the chango in his voice as lie spoke. "You arc sure you are anxious to die?" inquired the outcast. " Yes," returned Saunders, "it is tho simplest solution. Don't increase my misery by refusing to obey. Come, you agree?" "Yes, i agree," was the cold, emphatic reply. " Thanks," answered the other, " it is the only way. Everything has gone to bits these last few days. This afternoon I received three telegrams, each announcing fresh disasters.

" Read that," he commanded, lifting the buff envelope and flinging it across unopened. "I expect it brings news of some final misfortune.' The outcast opened it slowly and read: " Cancel last wire. Mexican Mediums gone up like a rocket. Being biggest shareholder, your fortune is made. Awaiting instructions."

Excitedly the financier jumped up and tore the wire from the outcast's grasp. . The perspiration glistened on his forehead and he gasped for breath as lie devoured the message a dozen times.

Then the colour returned to his face and a great sigh of relief escaped his lips. " Thank heaven!" ho exclaimed with a shudder, you won't have to use that confounded weapon after all." ■ "Oh! don't, mind. mo," answered the outcast, ostentatiously examining and. balancing the revolver in his hand, " it won't be any trouble at all; indeed, it will be a pleasure J assure you, to oblige. In the old days I was a fairly decent shot." .

"But, man," interrupted the financier, "it isn't necessary now. This wire— lucky I read it— changed every thing; I can faco the world once more." )( "But you made me promise just now," replied the outcast, pretending not to understand; "surely you don't want mo to break my word already?" "Mail, you arc mad !"> continued Saunders uneasily; "can't you see I've changed my mind, and that your presence is no longer required in this house?" " Suppose, however, I refuse to go back on my word; suppose I insist on keeping my promise," returned , the outcast, watching the effect of his words on the other's face.

"Oh! I see," laughed his companion nervously, you want the money. Here it is, you are welcome to it, only clear out." "No, thanks," replied the outcast sneeringly. " i am an amateur in these matters. 1 don't wish to dirty my hands.. bloodmoney; besides, 1 am not mercenary, the supper is ample payment." " It is time this nonsense ceased," exclaimed Saunders indignantly; blackmailing won't work with me. When L brought you here I was labouring under a delusion. You must forget all I said, and go; you have wasted too much of my time already." "You forget, mine has also been wasted," was the mocking retort; "like yours, it is so short that I can ill afford to spare any of it."

The financier grew nervous, and his bullying attitude disappeared as he caught the meaning of the other's words and saw tho inflexible look of hatred in his eye-;. Concluding that the man was mad and required humouring, he danced at the door, only to remember that it was locked.

Tho outcast interpreted the glaive. " Not so, quick," lie began; " the revolver you have been good enough to supply me with is loaded, and I observe that only a fourounce pressure is required. Its contents would perforate you before you could reach the door. As you remarked, it is time this nonsense had ceased. Sit down, it is useless to disobey, as the revolver covers your heart. I have a few words to say. so please don't interrupt until I am finished. " First I will introduce myself. My name is Richard Mellison. Ah! I see you recogniso it. You also probably remember certain China, Mexican, and Chili bonds on which you wasted many adjectives and much advertisement space. Except in the minds of those you duped, the shares never existed outside your own swindling imagination.

" I was one of those who listened to your deceptions. A respectable member of society ithen, you see what I am now—my life ruined, ray dreams shattered; but I will

not rake up old memories. It is enough; and lam only one. On behalf of he .others as well as myself I now intend settling accounts. You looked to-night for Homebody with sufficient nerve to obey you. You found me, and, believe me, your instructions shall be observed to the letter."

The financier's face assumed an ashen pallor, and great beads of sweat glistened on his features.

"Surely you are not serious; you don't intend to murder me?" he muttered hoarsely. " Don't call it murder," said Mellison; at the inquest it will simply be ilicide—a case of ' killing, no murder.' You see, lam merely going to obey your own command. You asked me, in fact, bribed me, to do so." " But you will be heard," was the despairing reply; "you will be captured, and then have to swing for it." " You forget the servants are away and the building is empty," answered Mellison mockingly. " I am grateful to you for taking such precautions. It has simplified matters so much." The financier tried to retain his com-

posure, but in vain; horror-stricken at tho other's resoluteness, he was already in a state of collapse. His knees shook and his voice quavered tremulously in search of a loophole of escape. " I will give you back all, even ten times more than you lost," lie pleaded whiningly, " You can start- a new life with sufficient to

I keep you in luxury to the end of it. Think; | if I live, you will have abundance ; if I die, you remain penniless." "Yes, and you will continue your fraudulent deceptions, replied the outcast firmly; " swindling thousands and fattening on the proceeds of their ruin. For tin* sake of them, and those who have already passed through your hands, I must keep my proj mise. Your offer of wealth is nothing to me; ; it comes too late. The best years of my life | are gone, there is no longer anything to live I for."

Spare me! oh, spare me!" implored Saunders, falling on his knees, Ins ghastly face presenting a picture of abject dismay. Tho look of relentless determination on tho other, however, told him his pleadings wore in vain. There was no hope of escape the revolver barred the way. He , cursed his folly for having given tho other possession of it. Still, on the brink of death lie clung 1 despairingly to life. "Be merciful," ,he continued, " give mo another chanco to make amends for the past." " I have already been more merciful with you than you deserve," answered Mellison". "If you had your deserts, you would die as you livedby the instalment .system." "But I am not fit to die," groaned tho terrified Saunders; "leave mo in peace, or at least let mo have time to prepare." " You would never bo ready," was the mocking reply; "better go before additional crimes accumulate. against you. You desire to bo left in neace. It is now thirteen

minutes to two: at tho hour precisely you will find yourself in pieces." A gifsp of dismay escaped the financier as the last, srleam of hope departed from his eyes. His, gaze was riveted on the revolver, and as the minutes flew past ho became almost paralysed with terror; his face betrayed the workings of his feelings "indor the desperate tension. Bereft of speech, he could now only utter an occasional groan. At five minutes to two, reason departed, and a minute later he made his effort. His

right hand, hanging down by the fide of the chair, encountered the spittoon, which in another instant was flying/through the air: but the aim was wild and only the sideboard suffered. Saunders followed it up with a wild spring at his opponent. It was a forlorn hope, hut the revolver defeated it by stretching his lifeless body on tho hearthrug. Two minutes later the same weai>oii spoko again, and then there was silence.