HIS SLIP OF HONOUR

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4425, 3 August 1901, Page 4 (Supplement)

HIS SLIP OF HONOUR

(By E. M. W. Brookcr.) An almost absolute quiet pervaded the barracks. It was far too hot an afternoon either to speak loudly or move noisily. Even Tommy Atkins had, whore possibie, subsided into peaceiul inertness.

The officers’ mess was deserted save for four men who sat at a card table, and passed the time by pursuing a sedentary amusement. Their intent expressions showed them to be keen on the game; only a quiet, curt remark relative to their occupation broke a silence that was fraught with thought, endeavour, and anxiety. They were all smart-looking men. Captain Johnnie Bonham leant back in his chair, the inevitable cigarette between his lips,, and supercilious expression on his face, that caused him to bo everlastingly misunderstood by strangers. They invariably took a dislike to both cigarette and expression, and credited Johnny with a foolish contempt of all men and things—except nunsolf. As a matter of fact, a stauncher, kinderhearted chap never existed. Frederick Grailtcn Williamson possessed a big name and littlo individuality. lie was of the eminently useful typo of man who would lit in the' spare crevices of life and follow the majority without murmuring.

Perhaps it was partly owing to Captain Spate’s neai-.;et eyes and nearer habits that he had twice changed hi„ regiment, much to the relief of those he left and annoyance of those he joined. On the other hand, tho last of the quartette had been a favourite ever since ho joined his regiment six years before this important, if not most important day of his life. Frank Morris was blessed with a cheery soirit and amusing tongue that made him popular with tho men, and a pleasing manner and general appearance that endeared him to the ladies. But this afternoon his appearance would have called forth the supposition that some misfortune had befallen him. Two of the men at the table were so much engrossed with tfieir game as to fail to notice the mysterious effect the last half-hour had had on Morris. The two who were his friends did not see the ghastly pallor that had replaced his usual ruddy colour, th e horror-struck expression in tho blue eyas that generally sparkled with the frank merriment, of a contented mind. His friends continued their game all unconscious of these changes in their companion. His enemy noted the change, and knew tue cause.

As Captain Spate leant back in his chair his thin lips formed a straighter lino than usual, and the little, mean eyes glittered with a vindictive triumph that could only presage coming evil. Ho watched Morris keenly, barely con" cealing his sneers as Frank’s play every moment became wilder and more erratic.

At last Johnnie Bonham adjusted the eyeglass, which was the crowning eyesore of th e stranger, and directed on Frank a questioning glance that rapidly became perturbed. "My dear chap, why on earth didn’t you say you felt chippy?” “There is nothing the matter with me,” answered Frame gruffly. “I sup* pose I can play badly if I choose.” “Certainly ; but if you are particularly keen on giving us your money, any time will do. "No need to martyrise yourself and play cards when you ought to be consulting the doctor. Aou look as if you had seen a ghost.” “Perhaps he has. or something equally unpleasant.” The quiet tones of Captain Spate held a hidden menace, which Frank was quick to detect. He felt a sickening throb somewhere in the region of the throat. His fears had been correct. Spate had seen, and meant to expose him. He did not answer at once. The short pause seemed like the quiet waters about to burst their dam and rush in irresistible torrents ■■ over the lives of helpless vie" tans. Then he straightened and faced his would-be accuser.

“Well?” Captain Spate’s ill-concealed malice threw off all restraint. He had always hated Morris. To a petty, egotistical nature such as his the easily-won popularity of another man was of itself sufficient to evoke jealous prejudice. Added to this, Morris was paying marked attention to a pretty niece of the Colonel’s, and since Captain Spate was desirous that Kityy Bancroft should be struck with his own many and manifold charms such a formidable rival as Frank was not disqualified from the lists. The Fates had favoured him. As he bent forward his answer to the young fellow’s quiet challenge his voice trembled with suppressed triumph. “You have probably cheated many times before, Morris. It wa s a pity that this afternoon you should have added fool to your knave, and been found out.” If Captain Spate had caused a thun-der-bolt to suddenly crash through the comfortably furnished mess he would not have made a preater sensation than he did by his words. A dull, red flush mounted to the roots of Frank’s fair hair, and his involuntary movement and clenched fist was promptly seconded by Johnnie Bonham. “That’s right'; knock him down,” he growled. But with an effort Frank controlled himself. “The fact that I accuse a man of being a scoundrel warrants my being treat* ed as one,” drawled Captain Spate. “Morris cheated; he can’t deny it.” “Do you think I need any denial from him to <know that you are telling a confounded lie?” Johnnie’s voieft, vibrated with anger. Gone was his eyeglass and supercilious air. His whole-hearted desire to thrash within an inch of his life the sneering little wretch before him was plainly visible on his face. “I call it a beastly shame to say such things, Spate,” said Williamson. Captain Spate shrugged his shoulders. “Ask the mau you are championing with such zeal to deny his guilt. He can’t.” VVhy don’t you punch his head, Frank?” asked Benham. “Because what he says is true.* I did cheat.” In dismayed silence the two men gazed at their comrade in whose honour they had believed as in their own. Frank’s face was white and drawn, but his head was well up, and he met their look unflinchingly. “I won't believe it, old chap,” said Bonham at last, huskily, “not if you perjure yourself from now to doomsday. The thing is impossible.” “I did cheat,” repeated Morris, mechanically. “It was an impulse, and I took care not to profit by it afterwards. Still, what ho says is true.” "And that the regiment does not possess a more honourable man than you is also true,” declared Bonham. “Your friendship is worth having,” sneered Spate. No one answered him, and he added as be sauntered to the door, “I_suppose we shall not play any more this afternoon, so I shall call' at the Colonel’s and exchange the society of a swindler for jnore pleasant company.”

This parting remark acted as he intended it should. As the door closed after him Prank’s defiant attitude col*

lapsed, and he buried his head in his arms in utter dejection. “Look here, old fellow, there must be some way out of it. Now that little beast is gone just explain it all. Did you want money ?•’ Frank raised his head indignantlv.

“Money? No, I didn’t want the money; it was a mere impulse. I know it sounds absurd, but that is the truth. I saw how easily the thing could be done, and before I had realised my actions I had done it. If Spate had not been there I should have owned up at once, 4md expected you follows to trust mo; hut I knew how he would take such a confession, and hoped my action had not been observed? ’

“Is that why you played badly and lost systematically?” asked Williamson. Frank nodded. “It was the only thing I could do.” The three men maintained a gloomy silenco for some minutes.

‘‘What wo must consider is how to make Spate Jiold his tongue,” said Bonham at last.

Morris groaned. “Nothing will make him do that. He is no doubt at present relating the whole affair to Miss Bancroft. I don’t care what els e ho does after that.” “Ho could not be such a cad.”

“Oh, yes, he could. Public exposure is not so much what ho will aim at as undermining my position with her. Not that it will matter much. Anyhow, 1 could not ask her to marry a man whoso impulses tend towards swindling.”

“Nonsense. It might have happened to all of us. It was a more abstraction of mind—a mental lapse.” Frank shook his head ruefully. “Most people will call it a moral lapse. Of course, I shall exchange if he lets me olf quietly. I ought to thank you fellows for the way you have treated me, but I can’t. I shall never forget, though.” The men left the mess and dispersed their several ways, inwardly marvelling at the catastrophe a couple of short hours had brought, forth. Captain Spate had carried out his ex* pressed intention, and called at the Colonel’s. Flo found the room fairly crowded, blit Fate again favoured him. Before long h 0 managed to secure a secluded corner, with Miss Bancroft ag his companion. On the principle that it is better to strike while the iron is hot, he led the conversation to card-playing. Then, a s though over-burthened by his afternooifs experience, took her into his confidence, and appealed for advice as to the course of action he should adopt with regard to Frank Morris. Miss Bancroft listened in petrified silence. Once he feared she would faint, but with an effort she rallied, and listened to the plausible expressions of regret with which he interlarded his recital. He knew well that he was causing her pain; but since he had determined to shatter her idol, the more thoroughly it was" don e the better. So he talked on, and the pretty colour faded from Kitty’s cheek and the sweet, saucy mouth quivered pitifully once or twice.

“He is the last fellow one would expect to do such a dastardly .thing,” sighed Spate hypocritically. An angry gleam shot into Miss Bancroft’s eyes. “He is the last fellow to do such a dastardly thing, Captain Spate.” Then, drawing a long breath, as though awaking from a dream, she added: ‘‘l simply don’t believe a word of what you have been telling me.” Rising impetuously she left him, and mingled with the throng of people in the big drawing-room. Captain Spate watched her a moment before slipping away. “Perhaps you will believe me, my lady, when the affair is made a little more public. Morris is evidently a scoundrel, and I am perfectly justified in running him to earth,” he muttered. That night Bonham and Morris had been asked to the Colonel’s after mess to spend a sociable evening and partake of light refreshments. "JL shan’t go,” said Frank when Bonham suggested it was time they left the mess- “iTou must make an excuse for me. Say anything you like.” “Don’t be an idiot. You are simply playing into Spate’s hands. Come along. VVorst come to the worst, you can make a clean breast of it to the Colonel. He would understand, and help us settle Spate.”

Several people were in the room when they arrived, among them Captain Spate. Neither men took any notice of him. For the greater part of the evening Miss Bancroft fairly took possession of Frank, and he, with the dreary words for the last time ringing in his head, gave himself up to the enjoyment of the moment. Perhaps h Q was unwise; but when execution is imminent a man is not prone to consider the feelings of his executioner. By the end of the evening Spate was in a white heat of jealous fury. Evidently Miss Bancroft was trying to show him how little importance she attached to what he had told her that afternoon. Well, when the lover she believed in so proudly was disgraced before his regiment she would realise that the personal liking of a few people was not sufficient to shield a swindler from the punishment he deserved. It was all very well for her and Bonham to declare Frank was owning to what h e had never done, or that if he had done it he was still a saint. How was he, how was anyone to know that Morris had not cheated all his cardplaying life P A cneat is generally suspected, both as to his past and future. Miss Bancroft should have thought twice before treating the man who had found him out with such contempt. 'i'he Colonel was talking to Bonham and Frank on the hearthrug; the other guests had already departed. With a sudden nust of passion Spate told himself that he would wait no longer. Crossing the room, he accosted the Colonel that at first gave that startled gentleman the imnression that he had to deal with a madman. ‘•i beg your pardon, sir. I suppose I ought to wait for a more propitious time, but J. can’t stand the sight of that man’s”—indicating Frank—“effrontery a moment longer. You are probably unaware that he owns to having cheated at cards this afternoon, and that I intend to expose him as a swindler?” “I am sorry to hear you make such a grave accusation. Spate. We will enter into it more fully to-morrow, in the right place, at the right time.” Turning pointedly to Bonham, he continued : ■‘As you were sayinn. Bonham, the Derry golf course is a disgrace to the place.” Captain Spate bit his lip, and somewhat brought to his senses, was turning away, when Miss Bancroft’s clear tones startled the four men. “I think I can save you the trouble, uncle, of investigating Mr Morris’s conduct to-morrow by giving a full exlpanation of the affair at once. Mr Morris will, no doubt, deny what I say, in the hope of keeping my name out of the matter altogether. !But I must beg of you to believe me. “i foolishly pretended to think that men did not cheat oftener at cards because they were nearly sure to be detected. I persisted in such Horrid declarations really to tease Mr Morris, and it ended in his saying he would cheat the next time he played just to show how easy it would be to do so

without being found out. You al! know he did not succeed; but I also wanted you to know that what Captain Spate is trying to use as a means of ruining a fellow officer was merely a stupid joke, for which I am alone responsible.” Bonham seized Kitty’s hand and wrung it heartily. “Bless you, Miss Bancroft; but I did not need anyone to tell me that Frank was, and always would be, the soul of honour.”

Frank looked at him appealingly. “Don’t, Johnnie. Miss Bancroft had nothing to do with it. I— —’’ “It is no use, Air Morris. I insist on bearing the brunt of my own evil deads. Uncle, is it likely that Mr Morris would try to make money by a low trick ?”

“No, my dear, it is not for one moment likely of the Mr Morris we know; but to indulge in a jest of that description would be dangerous to anyone. However, I am sure we are all mod grateful for this timely explanation of a situation that threatened to become serious.”

Having given all the reprimand he deemed necessary, the Colonel walked off Bonham and the anything but grateful Captain to look for their caps. Frank lingered behind, and looked at Kitty’s downcast face for a moment in silence.

“Miss Bancroft, what can I say ? I thought the sense of my own guilt was punishment enough; now, the knowledge that you have told a lie to shield mef makes it almost harder than I can bear.”

Kitty spoke hurriedly. “Don’t talk like that. You know you are not the dishonourable man Captain Spate pretends to think you. Captain Bonham came in just after he had gone this afternoon and told me how it really happened. But I should never have thought that you deliberately cheated to gain money. Your action must have been purely mechanical, and was probiibty indirectly, if not directly, due to our conversation the ofher day.’ Frank’s lip quivered. “You are determined that I shall not look on myself as a culprit; but I would rather do' that than bo 'a ‘whited sepulchre.’ ”

"You shall be whatever you like after Captain Spate has left, which I should think ho would do, all things considered. If the wretched man had not made a mountain out of a mole-heap we should never have had all this fuss. As to my saying that you had determined to test my arguments of the other dav, I don’t regret having put forth the theory for fact in the least, and 1 never shall, although I now know that you are not quite the martyr I thought.” There was something very like despair in Frank’s eyes as he bid her good-night. “I did cheat, you know,” he said sadly. “Spate was quite right from -his point of view. It is I who ought to exchange, and that as soon as possible.” With an effort he released her hand. “If I don’t see you again you can always believe that I shall never forget you or become ungrateful. “If you don’t see me again! Do you mean to say you think of - leaving me after all I have done for von?” Miss Bancroft’s righteous indignation dissipated poor Frank’s hardly kept selfcontrol.

"Kitty, Kitty, I can’t ask you to marry me now!” ... There was a- short pause, until, for one brave moment, Kitty raised her eves to his, “Then I suppose I must propose to you. But—l would so much rather you did the asking.” And in the end, with his arms around her, he did as she desired.