THE OTHER ROMILLY

New Zealand Times, Volume LI, Issue 11874, 7 July 1924, Page 4

THE OTHER ROMILLY

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGED) EWT.j I

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E. Philips Oppenheim.

i y , hor ~ .. Th . Hillman," " A Man and Hit Kingdom," •■ Tht Mvsierloui. Mr.' #, — A Prince ol Sinners.” “ A Maker of H.slory." 4c . 4*. 1 (COPYRIGHT.);

SWWOPSIS OP PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS I. and ll.—Philip Romilly an art school teacher, arrives at Dettoj! Magna from London, and makes his waj to the little cottage where Beatrice AVen derley, the village schoolmistress, lives ’ He notices a ounous change in the fur nishings thereof; from poverty to comparative luxury. Beatrice also ip chang*ed in dress and manner. He seeks and finds the cause of it in his well-to-dc manufacturing cousin, Douglas Romilly, - and dashes the latter’s photo-picture on to the floor, shivering 1 the glass. ’ He and Beatrice discuss the problem oi poverty, and, after she has had her say, he tarns and leaves her. That evening 'there is only one passenger at Detton Magna station. He takes a third to Detton Junction. As the Junction Philip takes a first-class ticket to Liverpool', and indulges in really good food. At Liverpool ho drives to the Adelphi Hotel, and takes rooms under the name of Douglas Romilly Onoe in his rooms he locks his door and examines his neWly-aoquired ■wardrobe. Then he takes a hot bath and goes to bed. CHAPTER HI. The sun was shining into his bedroom wihen Philip Romilly was awakened the next morning by a discreet tapping at the door.. tRe sat up in bed and shouted “Come in.” He had no oooasion to hesitate a . moment. He knew perfectly well where he was. he remembered exactly everything that had happened. The knocking at the door was disquieting, but he faced it

without a tremor. The floor waiter ap-

peared and bowed deferentially. “There ia a gentleman on the telephone wishes to speak to you, air,” he announoed. “1 have connected him with the instrument by yonr side.” “To speak to .me?” Philip repeated. “Are you quite sure?” “Yes, sir. Mr Douglas Bomilly he asked for. He said that his name was Mr Gayes, I believe.” The man left- the room, and Philip took up the receiver. For a moment he sat and thought. The situation. was perplexing, in a sense ominous, yet it • had to be faced. He held the instrument to his ear. ; “Hullo? Who’s that?” he inquired. “That Mr Homildy ?” was the reply, ih a man’s pleasant voice—“ Air Douglas BomiUy?” , “Yes!” “Good! I’m Gayes—Mr Gayes of Gayes Brothers. My people wrote me last night from Leicester that you would bo he*.<j this' morning: You are crossing, aren’t you, -on the Elletania?” Philip remained monosyllalbic. “Yes,” he admitted cautiously. “Can’t ■ you came round and* see us this morning?” Mr Gayes invited. “And ■ ■ look* he*e>. Mr Bomilly , • in any case I ■want - vow to lunch with me at the dub. My oar shall come roundl and fetch you at any-time you say.” “Sorry,” Philip replied. “X am very busy this morning and I am engaged for "lunch.” “Oh, come, that’s too bad,” the < other protested. “I really want to have “ you on business matters, “ Mr-'Rotnilly. Will you spare me, half-; an-bour if I come round?” “‘Tdl me exactly what 'it is you want?”.-Philip insisted. - —“Ohljust the usual thing,” was the -bheerfulsmswer. “We hear you' are off to America, on a buying tour. Our last • advices don’t indicate a very easy mar- • ket over there. I am not at all sure that we couldn’t do better for you here, and give you better terms.” Philip began to feel .mote sure of himself. The situation, after all. was

uvv v&wjvty 4uatruLuig. “Very land .of you,” he said, “My 'firran'gemSnta are all made .now,, though, and I can’t interfere -with them.” “Well, I’m going to bother you with a lew quotations, any way. See here, I’ll just run round to see you,' My car is Waiting. at the door how. I won’t keep yoh more than a few minutes.” ,-4,‘Stoftpome before twelve,” Philip begged/ I shall be busy until then.” “At twelve o'clock precisely, then,” was the reply. “I shall hope to induce you,., to change your mind about luncheon. It’s quite a long time since we had you at the dub. Good-bye!” Philip sat down the telephone. He was still in hie pyjamas, and the morning, was cold, but he suddenly felt a great drop of perspiration on his fore-head-.-It was the sort of thing this, which he had expected—had been prepared 'for, in fact—but it was none the less, in its way gruesome. There was a further knock at the door and the waiter reappeared. “Can I bring you any breakfast, sir,?” he inquired. “What time is it?” ‘‘Half-past nine,' sir,” “Bring me some coffee and some rolls and butter.” Philip ordered. He sprang out of bed, bathed, dress ed, and ate his breakfast. Then he lit a cigarette, repacked his dressing-case, and descended into the hall. He made his way to the hall-porter's inquiry

“I am going, to pay some calls in tie city,” ha announced —“Mr Roomily is hiyname —and I■? may not be ablo to get back here before my boat sails. I' am going on! to Elletania. Oan I have my luggage sent there direct?” ‘‘By all means, sir.” “Every article is properly labelled,” Philip continued. “Those in my bed room—number *ixty-sewen—are for the cabin, and those you have in your chai'ge are for the hold.” “That will be quite all right, sir,” the man assured him, pocketing- his liberal tip, “I will see to the-matter myself-' 4 Philip paid his bill at the office, and breathed a little more freely as he left

the hotel. Passing a large window, he stopped suddenly and Stared at his own reflection. There 1 was something unfamiliar ini the hang of his well-out clothes and fashionable Homburg hat. It was like the shadow of someone else passing—someone to whom these clothes belonged. Then he remembered, remembered with a cold shiver which blanched his cheeks and brought a little agonised murmur to his lips. The moment passed, however, crushed down, stifled as ho had sworn that ho would stifle all such memories. Ho turned in at a barber’s shop,_ had Jhis hair out and yielded to the solicitations of a fluffy-haired, young lady, who was dying to go to America if only someone would take lier, and who was sure that he ought to have a manicure before his voyage. Afterwards he entered « nail

office, and rang up the hotel on tin telephone. “Mb Romilly speaking,” lie announced. “Will you kindly tell -VI Gayes, if he calls to see me, tbsA I have been detained paying some calif in the city, and shall not be hack.” The mam took down the message. Philip strolled cut once more into the streets, wandering aimlessly about for an- hour or more. By this time it was nearly one o’clock, and, selecting a restaurant, he entered and ordered luncheon. Oboe more it cams over him, as he looked around the place that he had, after all, only a very imperfect hold upon his own identity. Ir seemed impossible that ne, Philip Romilly, should he there, ordering precisely what appealed to him most, without thought or care of the cost. He ate and drank slowly and with dis • crimination, and when he left the plaoe he felt stronger. *He sought out a first-class tobacconist’s, bought some cigarettes, and inquired his way to the dock. At a few minutes after two, he passed up- the gangway, and boarded the great steamer. One or the little army of linen-coated stewards inquired the number of his room and conducted him below. “Anything I can do for you, sir, before your luggage comes on P” the man asked civilly. - Philip shook his head and wandered up on deck again, - where there were already a fair number of passengers in evidence. He leaned over the side watching the oonstant stream of porters bearing supplies, and the steerage passengers passing into the forepart of the ship. With every moment his impatience grew. He looked at his watch sometimes half-a-dozen time 3 in ten minutes, changed-■ his position continually, started violently whenever he heard an unexpected footstep behind him. Finally he broke a promise he had made to himself. He bought newspapers, took them into a sheltered corner and tore mem open. Column, by column, he searched them through feverishly, running his finger down one side and up the next. It seemed impossible to find nowhere the heading he, dreaded to see, to realise that they were entirely empty of qnv exciting incident. He satisfied himself at last, however. The disappearance of a half-starved art teacher had not yet been blazoned out to a sym pathetic world. It was so much to the good. . . . There Was a touch upon his shoulder, and he felt a chill of horror. When he turned around, it was the steward who had conducted him below, holding out a telegram. “I beg your pardon; sir,” he said. “Telegram just arrived for you.” He passed on almost at once, in search of someone else. Philip stood for several moments perfectly still. He looked at the inscription—-Douglas Romilly—set his teeth and tore open the envelope: Understood you were returning to . factory before- leaving. Am posting a few final particulars to Waldorf Hotel, New York. Staff joins me in wishing you bon voyage.

Philip felt his heart cease its pounding felt an immense sense of relief. It was a wonderful thing, this message. It cleared up one point on which he had been anxious and unsettled.. It was taken for granted at the works, then, that he had come straight to Liverpool. He walked up and down the deck on the side remote from the dock, driving this into his mind. Everything was wonderfully simplified. If only he could get across, once reach New York. Meanwhile, he looked at his watch again and discovered that it wanted but ten minutes tp three. He made his way back to his stateroom, which was already filled with his luggage. He shook out an ulster from a bundle of wraps,. and selected a tweed cap. Already there was a faint touch of the sea in the river breeze, and he was impatient for the immeasurable open spaces, the salt wind, the rise and fall of the great ship. Then, as he stood on the threshold of his cabin, he heard voices.

“Down in number 110, eh?” ?‘Yes, sir,” he heard his steward’s voice reply. “Mr Romilly has just gone down. You’ve only a minute, sir, before the last call for passengers.” r

“That’s all right,” the voice which had spoken to him over the telephone that morning replied. “I’d just like to shake hands with him and wish him bon voyage.” Jbilip’s teeth came together in a little fury of anger. . It was maddening, this, to be trapped when only a few more minutes remained between ri+f+i auii T? a^x ty ! ?f s brain worked swiftly. He took his chance of find-, ing the next stateroom, empty, as it. happened to- be, and stepped quickly! inside. He kept bis back, to the door until the footsteps had passed: He heard the knock at-his own state-room, stepped back into the corridor, and o+W l -5 lon § X gangway to the other side of the ship. He hurried up the stairs and, into the smoking-room, ihe bugle was sounding now, and hoarse voices were shouting— Everyone for the shore! Last call for the shore I”

Give me a brandy and soda,” he 'begged the steward, who was iust opening the bar. ‘ ] The man glanced at the clock, and obeyed!. Philip swallowed) half of it at a gulp then sat down with the tumbler in has band. All of a sudden something disappeared in front of one of the portholes. His heart gave a little jump. They were moving! He sprang up and! burned to the doorway. Slowly, but - unmistakably they were gliding. away from the dock. Already a lengthening line of people were waving their hankerohiefa and shouting farewells. Around them in the river the little tugs were screaming and the ropes from the dock had been thrown loose. Philip stepped to the rail, his heart growing lighter a* every moment. His übiquitous steward, laden with hand luggage, paused for a moment. “I sent a gentleman down te your stateroom just before the steamer started 1 , sir," ho announced, “gentleman of tlio name of Gayes. who wanted to say good-bye to you.” “Bad- luck!” Philip answered. “I must have just missed him.” The sitewtard .turned! around and pointed to the quay. “There he is, sir, elderly gentleman in a grey suit, and a bunch of violets in his buttonhole. He’s looking straight at you.”

Philip raised' his cap and -waved it with enthusiasm. After a moment’s hesitation, the other man did the same. Thc> steward! collected ihis helonjrin.es and shuffled off. “He picked you out, sir, aid right,” he remarked, as ho disappeared in the oompan iooway., Philip turned away with a little final wave of the hand. “Glad I didn’t miss him altogether,” he observed cheerfully. Good-after-noon 31r Gayesl Good-bye England!” vrn~ v- j \ l