SHORT STORY.

Otago Witness, 5 December 1900, Page 58

SHORT STORY.

A CASE OF QUITS. "It's risky — perhaps rather mad on my part — but I've never gone m for half measures since I chummed with Tom Nixon ; and — yes, on the whole, they have paid. I'll do it." These words were in Rice Seaton's mind as he sat in the little bay-windowed smoking room of the Hill Top Hotel, near Traverley, and Avatched for Sir Graham Bull's daughter. He himself was but a fortnight settled in Traverley. From the smoking room, where he sat and waited, he could see the gabled villa with the red roof which he had rented, furnisLed, for 'six months certain. Fishing and shooting went^ with the villa, as well as a reaso\iable reputation for worldly importance. "Yet in less than a week Rice Seaton was weary of the easy life. He had seen Eleanoi Bull day after day, and he had decided that she was the girl he would make his wife. So far well. But he could get no farther. He had no credeatials other than that of his money, which, he judged from hearsay, carried no weight with Sir Graham Bull. Moreover, he had exchanged casual words with, the baronet^ and these

had confirmed him in his belief that none but heroic means would procure him Sir Graham's friendship and Sir Graham's daughter's acquaintance. It remained now to try this large measure which he had designed. He was musing, with a- sinister smile, when Eleanor and her cycle glided to the hotel door. Then he hastily obliterated himself : - he did not want her to see him — yet. The landlord's wife had formerly been Sir Graham's housemaid, and Eleanor never passed the door without calling — to kiss the baby. And Eleanor's constitutionals on her cycle of late had been daily in this direction, for an old pensioner had also to be visited on the other side of the Trave. This ran at the bottom of the hill, which dropped' sleepily to the river from the very door of 'the hotel. "Well, my pretty — and will you let me take you from mother and carry you where the little flowers grow " The voice became fainter and fainter. Seaton judged, rightly enough, that baby had no objection to be carried by so sweet a nurse. "Now for it," said Seaton. * He slipped from, the room and so , outside. - The hotel was .in a" lonely 'situation. One glance told him that fortune favoured him. Then he went to Eleanor's cycle, looked about him furtively again, bent over it, and in three or four moments had done his work. It would be a remarkable brake if this one attached to the girl's machine -could now do its work when called upon. Seaton strolled down the hill, lighting a cigar as he went. But he by no means felt as comfortable as lie looked. Was there not .the fear that the girl might lose her head when she found she could not check her machine V In jumping from her cycle she might break her neck, spoil her beauty for life, or — Seaton hoped his hardest for the best possible for himself. He quickened his pace to get to the bottom of the hill in time. And, as it seemed, fortune did favour him. Soon -he heard a faint cry behind. Turning, he saw that Eleanor was doing the correct thing. She had lost all command over her cycle, but was sitting it like the brave girl she was, facing the stream towards which she was rushing at an awful pace. Not for her to-day was the handbridge which served pedestrians. Then Seaton ran his iastest. The Trave,. though "a mere stream, had much water in it just now. And a hundred yards or so down from the road there was the mill pond, into which the current might readily sweep a passive victim. The mill pond was 50xt deep, with weeds as well as trout in it. Seaton's start was only just enoiigh to help him to his purpose. He dashed waistdeep into the wacer a moment^ or two before Eleanor also, reached' it. His arms were ready. She was saved — soaked to be sure, but positively unhurt. And the cycle itself was also unhurt. Then was it Searon's privilege to help her back to the hotel. That is to say, he insisted on. taking charge of her cycle. Nor was this all. "Let me do all I can for you, Miss Bull?" he pleaded. So he was permitted to push the cycle to Traverley House, and there he saw Sir Graham, who was in tine small park in front of the house. Sir Graham's gratitude was a matter, of course. ''1 wonder if you would dine with us tonight, Mr Seaton?" he said at length. "Delighted, I'm sure." '"It's the only way left to an Englishman in these unemotional days to express his obligations to another Englishman," the baronet added. "But you will 'be iniorlrmliy welcome." "liie obligation is all on my side," said Seaton. They then separated — Seaton enchanted with iiis success, Sir Graham Bull somewhat perturbed. "I can't pretend to like that fellow," murmured Sir Graham, as he patted the head of the huge old boaxhound which had come suddenly out to him baying and bristly, as if he .'had just dreamt of a quarry. "What's the matter, Eric?" The hound was sniffing the air with fierce eyes and lashing tail. "Convention has its duties, which require to be fulfilled," said the baronet, with Seaton again in his mind, as he returned to the house. The dog followed him reluctantly, growling, witli' bloodshot glances' to the right and left. 11. It was the quarter of an hour previous to the dinner time mentioned by Sir Graham to Rice Seaton. The baronet, Eleanor, and Dick Kearley were in the small drawing room awaiting him. The hound, a privileged personage, lay stretched on a polar bear skin before tihe hearth. Eleanor's eyes were very bright. They were fastened upon her cousin Dick, a promising young electrician of Leeds, with a head full of high and broad notions. She knew well enough that she herself was the highest of his hopes and the lodestone for all his lesser ambitions. "Strikes me as queer your brake going suddenly wrong like that and being all right again afterwards !" Dick was saying, when he suddenly exclaimed : "Oh, by the way, Uncle Graham, I must tell you. I've an idea by Avhich a man's very thoughts may ba registered unconsciously — reeled off, you know, night and day, for futtire reference. It's moderately intricate, and too technical foi Nell to understand ; but there ought to be a chance for a fellow who can do it, don't you think?" "What an awful idea, Dick!" said Eleanor. 11 Ve — s; it might be t-at with some "of us. Not with you, Nell." The girl's eyes fell before his. "I don't know," she murmured, blushing slightly. "If they could be read like that by others, it would be very — unpleasant." "I could apply it to animals, too — to Eric, for instance. Oh ; its utility is boundless. Look at the beast! It would be interesting to know what he's thinking .of huw,", . , .

The hound had lifted its head and growled, with, a set expression towards the window which faced the park entrance.. They all three gazed at it. ''Papa," said Eleanor^ "you've never told Dick how Eric saved your life. There's just time before Mr Seaton-' comes. That's why the dear old dog does just what he pleases, Dick.'' "Yes," said the baronet, "and that ex« plains the seam across his chest." "I'd like 'to 'hear 'the yarn, Uncle Graham," said Dick eagerly. "Was it in Jkngland?" "No ; in Australia.* Before I inherited the title. There's not a deal in it. I was bank agent at Wirralong, then, and Eric was a youngster, with, teeth, for a show.I had to drive to Pattenham with a lot of cash, and — well, I knew there were some infernally bad rogues about, and so I took the dog" with me. Sure enough, too, when I was in the darkest part of the bush, aJ bullet came at me, struck me here on the temple, and dropped me like a shot pheasant. Wonder is it didn't do worse. Anyway, I was stunned completely, and knew no more till I found niyself in a shanty called the Woolman's Arms, about two miles out ,of the bush. Eric was lying licking the blood on. that slash of his,- and on-the-table was a' strip' of skin with some flesh to it which the dog had brought along with him — heaven knows why— — " "Papa's got it still in " the "library, under a glass, all dried up. Isn't it horrid," said Eleanor. "Oh, there's "nothing horrid about it now," continued the baronet,' laughing shortly. " It's just a bit of leather. But I guess the man who lost it still misses it, if he isn't dead long ago." The dog seemed to know he was the hero of the moment. He stood up, and again his hair stiffened. The thunder in his throat broke forth afresh. Wheels could bs heard outside. " Oh," said Eleanor, raising her eyebrows, " here he is. I—lI — I wish he wasn't coming." " So do I," answered Dick ; " though it's like my impudence, isn't it? But did the money get through all right with you, sir?'-' Sir Graham shrugged his shoulders. l " No, that went," he said ; " and they never caught' the fellow or' fellows." The dog dashed from the hearth towards the drawing room door, only to be called back peremptorily by Sir Graham^ With a whine and a "heavy frown of pathetic protest, 'the hound slowly returned to the hearth, its head half bent towards the door, its ears cocked and its tail pointing. The door opened. "Mr Seaton ! " exclaimed the servant. Then, with a roar rather than a growl,* the dog pivoted round and sprang for all it was worth. A Japanese screen which, slightly guarded the door was knocked flat, and before anyone could intervene Erie was upon Mr Seaton. There was a loud crash as they both fell to the .floor, the dog uppermost, with its old teeth worryirfg a£ the guest's .throat; 111. Mr Seaton's high collar and immaculate white tie were torn from him in a moment. Whil Dick, Sir Graham, and the servant beat and pushed at the ,dog, the dog itself tried its hardest to fasten its teeth in a. deep red seam which ran obliquely across its victim's throat. " He's choking me," Mr- Seaton gasped. Hs could do nothing, and every moment expected to feel his windpipe rent asunder. But at length numbers prevailed, and the disappointed Eric was overcome and dragged from the room. Then Mr Seaton stumbled to his feet. He tried to laugh. The sight of the scar on. "his throat reflected in a mirror checked his laugh. He saw* too, that Sir Graham* had seen the scar, and was oddly impressed by it. Not a word of apology from Sir Graham, either, which was more odd still. Eleanor stood panting, wild-eyed, and .wondering. Dick Kearley was the first to seem cool. " Good thing' the dog's teeth were blunted with age, sir, ' he said. • ', " Ve — s," Mr Seaton stammered, trying to rearrange himself. A quick dread had come upon Mm. • But the baronet spoke at last. "Will you come with me, Mi Seaton ? " "he said, quietly. He led -his guest not to a bedroom, but to the library. Here, he turned to a glass case in a corner, but before going farther, he said, " Excuse me, "but you have been in Australia, have you not? " " Never sir." "- ; Sir Graham's eyes saw the shrinking in. his guest's face. He -lifted the glass cover, and taking the^ bit of driedskin, offered -it to Mr Seaton. ' "I have more faith in my dog's instinct than in a man's word," he said. "For the sake of" what you did this morning I will hold my tongue. T.ake v it. We are .quits." A week later the villa rented by Mr Rice Seaton was again advertised in the papers.