SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2842, 2 September 1908, Page 90

SHORT STORIES.

A CONVICT, A CHECK SUIT, : AND A CONIRtrEMPS. By Chabjles Richabds Allen. Let this story be a warning to all yemng men who consider themselves <low<3red at birth with a faculty for iyumour above that of the average baby. As long as he confines his talents to mere verbal quip and crank he will come to no greater harm than to prove himself a bore to one-half of the world and a clown to the other half. But once he becomes involved in the meshes of the practical joke he will most assuredly come to grief as <L did. Let him not- be led jjustray by the happy termination to this, Jny escapade. I am positive he would not meet such a dear, sweet girl as Dora on a similar occasion. I was a notable wag in my younger days, and enjoyed a considerable vogue among a certain section of young men about Liverpool. In matters of dress, too, I was a recognised leader.- Being very young, I enjoyed ni"y Hfctle eminence, all unconscious of the dkeotion in which it was leading me. As each season came! round the young men of Xiverpool would take note of the fact that "Algy was wearing his trousers very tight tliis, spring" (my name is Algernon, i fact for .which I. disclaim any responsibility), and straightway there would be a rending^ of_ seams as -the yonng men found themselves in a position necessitating any violent exertion" of the nether limbs. Or it wtfuld be- "AJgy ie -wearing his collars very high.. .this winter," and in a very short "time ""the young men of Liverpool could be discerned- peering over dizzy e^mineiia/s of white superfine four-fold linen. ' In the . spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of his wardrobe. As the days began to lengthen out, the young men' of Liverpool looked on their leader for the first sign, and the fashionable tailor who enjoyed the hall-mark <rf my patronage welcomed hie bell-wether yato his shop with unfeigned joy, knowing full well that two days after the delivery of my new spring suit he would have the rest of the fllock bleating at his door. "Good morning, eir," the tailor eaid. '.'Our Mr Spedding will be here immediately." (Why is it that a firm of tailors always speak of the members of its staff is if they belonged to the firm, body and "They are catting waistcoats rather lower in town this .year. I thought that •^rould catch your eye, sir.'" This referred to a suit length of a very pronounced, and during check which was lying on the counter^ -It certainly did catch my eye," and once it had caught it, it held on with leech-like tenacity. There was a mesmeric quality in the combination of colours ana the almost uncanny pattern. "This is going to be a great Eeason for checks," the tailor went on, with as much enthusiasm as an Indian civil servant would ■be likely to display in predicting a phenomenal rice and paddy crop. "Nothing else will be worn in t>own." It was the year Piccadilly had the appearance of a drunken chess board. "Oiy: Mr Noakes" (another domestic pet of the firm's stationed in London ac buyer) "was fortunate in securing that piece. It got second prize as a competitive design Qt Hudder&neld, and this was the only length manufactured." 'Til have it made up into a sac suit," I said. "I think it will be the most original thing we have turned out to date," said the tailor, rubbing his hands ; and ho summoned' his Mr Spedding from the •regions above by means of a speaking tube. Had I read Marlowe's '"Faust"' at the time, I might have likened him to Mephistopiioles as lie summoned Faust, who belonged to him body and soul, to the nether regions. _ I decided that the new suit should make its debut at the races at Haydock Park, and thither I started one sharp spring morning. The companion of my choice had developed German measles at the eleventh hour, 6O I had to make the jom-ney alone. I had the morning paper to while away the time on the .way to St. Helens, and after scanning the forecast of the daj''s winners, I glanced at the cable news. There wa6 little of interest there, and I was preparing to throw the paper out of the window of my railway carriage when my eye was arrested by a heading which ran as follows : — DASH FOR LIBERTY AT DARTMOOR. Daring Escape of William Foster, the Clever Forger. I read the details of the escape with some interest, and I found myself hoping that Foster would get away, for a man of his genius was palpablj wasted on a stone quarry. I remembered the amusing way he had hoodwinked a number of men in the oity, and JSow the Old Bailey had been converted into a pla-ee of amusement while the prisoner gave a monologue entertainment which constituted his defence. I woe supposed to resemble him to a marked degree, and one of my greatest fcits at an evening entertainment had been Mi imitation of his almost inimitable style in th* dock. I was picturing the dreadful lonely niaht the poor brute must have •pent on in« moors, wk» the train •topped at St. Helena. 1 am never sure of wh»t happened precisely after I had alighted on to the platform. It is a mist illuminated by a pair of the softest, nic*t. .txJrety brown eyes I have ever seen. "I knew you by your aew check tult. Now, yon mult Id* me." I call heaven to witness that this was wi invitation — nay, more, a command — given unconditionally. I ask any young man io put himself in my place. Here ,was a yoi^'g and beautiful girl, whom, |o the lest I )f my knowledge, I had never

T clapped eyes on before, demanding a kiss as - a right, without the remotest suggestion of a stipulation of any sort. Can one refuse a lady under such conditions? It would be the worst form of insult. How was I to know she was not an impulsive, young lady who had taken an intuitive liking for me, and was trusting in my gentlemanliness to gratify a lady' 6 whim? At any rate, I kissed her (such a dear little mouth it was), and awaited further instructions. She looked me up and down, and I felt bashful, and wondered, half hopefully, if she were going to adopt me for good and all. It would have been a most chastening discipline for those young men who imagine that every girl is dying to throw herself at him (and this I find almost universal in the male young of the human species) to be placed, as I vras, under the white light of Dora's scrutiny. "You're not a bit like your photographs," she said. I admitted that I was a notoriously bad sitter for the camera. "Where's your luggage ?" she asked. I looked blank. She laughed. How shall I describe that laugh? Try and imagine the whole universe shaking itself down comfortably into order. I don't mean to say she roared like a thousand cataracts. The universe was composed of a number of little tinkling things that tumbled joyously over one another. "You don't- mean to say you've lo&t your traps again?" (I was, then, to understand that this was not the first time this sort 'of thing had had to be complained of. I really felt heartily ashamed of myself.) My woe-begone and contrite expression provoked a further disturbance among the components of the universe that tinkled. "I wish I could be there to £cc you and Muriel on your honeymoon. Tho Innocents Abroad won't be in it. You'll have lost every stitch by the time you get to Lucerne." Despite my agitation, I had time to notice that her tiny shoes had patent leather tips to them, and that she pronounced Muriel almost (but not quite) as if it were spelt Muwiel. I know this i 3 a feeble way of trying to convey to you the delightful half-&uspicion of a lisp in her cherubic (I hope that is a legitimate word) voice. But Muriel — honeymoon — Lucerne ! Three unknown quantities in one problem ! If I had been a sensible young man I would have told Dora there was a dog I had forgotten in the guard's van — a King Charles spaniel, a present for Muriel — and that I must see to it, and would be back in a jiffy. Then I could have merged myself in the race crowd, ana extended my stipulated leave of absence from one jiffy (whatever that may be) to eternity. But no such brilliant inspiration seized me. Besides, the conviction was strong within me that here ■ was a situation in which a card like my- . self (I have good reaeon to believe that among my young friends at Liverpool I was voted a "card," "sad dog," "cure," '■ or "break-up," which are all synonymous) should find ample scope for his peculiar gifts. Atid just imagine eternity without any Dora ! We have since agreed that it was a case of love at firet si^ht, so that probably explains everything. It has just struck me that, had I really been Muriel's fiance, it would have been a modern version of Paolo and Franceeca with the lady in the gentleman's place, and vice versa. If I digress any more I shall ' never finich my tale, so we must pick up the conversation where we dropped it. "You're a funny lover. You don't seem very anxious about Muriel," Dora said ac we were eeatcd side by side in a hansom that was speeding me on, a willing victim, to revelations and ructions. Have I mentioned that she was wearing white furs, and that her hair was golden and very soft, and that, if I had been her ' brother. I should have nick-named her ■Flnffy"? i "How is die?" I asked in a sort of bed1 side voice. "I don't think she will live long," Dora it plied And I take no shame in saying ' that I wished there had not been another of thoec shakings-down of the musical elements of the univeiee after she had ; spoken. Recollect, I had never set eyes 1 ou my fiancee. My feelings to wa ids her were exactly tho^e of t-he maiden Fran- ' cesca towirds the hunchback Maleetata. 1 How did I know that Murie! had not a ' hunchback or red hair or advanced views ■ on woman' 6 rights, or some such defori mity? Besides, I was terribly in love ! with Paolo. ■ "The doctor says thai Gorman measles < arc- seldom fatal, and that, now that ' Muriel is convalescent, she may pull i through for another seventy od« year*. > Further than that, he would not like to predict. He ie one of the old pessimistic ecl'-001. But cheer up, Carl. You caJi do a powerful lot in seventy odd years." "It's a good deal longer than one hansom ride," I replied. "Perfectly true, Sir Orac'.e, but rather ' o^ ious. I suppose that's c> result of your ' legal training: 'Expound il:e obvious, ' iHi'istrate the evident, ai'cl expatiate Upon the common plac-a.' I^u't that it?" 1 I was a yoimrt man in the 'aw then. ' iir-Te was something to %o on. '' "Do you think your lujig.xge will ai'rive ' to-night?' 1 fih-e a^ked. "I should say it was extremely doubtk ful," I replied, truthfully enough. ' "Never mind. You can buj - a tooth1 brush at the chemist's at the corner, and > Percy will lend you some pyjamas." I felt grateful to Percy. ' We stopped > at the chemist's to make our purchase. i Dora favoured a neat little brush with ' holes at the back to let the wats* run out. I but I preferred a hideous tortoiseshell ' article in order to prolong the transaction ' as far as possible. I have done much slioppina with Dora since that day, but . I doubt If I have ever enjoyed it .so much, "ulth the poasible exception of the occai f-ion of little Fluffy's outfit on the eve of - her being "shortened.' But I am antici- ; patin-g. > Whc-j wo were eeateJ once more in the , hpnsom th^ conversation turned upon the : escape of Uic convict. Dora was all syni-

pathy for the pov? man. She told me she had cherished a secret attachment for him, and had written for and obtained his autograph during the course of the trial. There was something about the magnificent audacity of the man and the pic-turesque-circumstances of the case that appealed to ladies. There was an atmosphere of lace ruffles, jack-boots, and blunderbuss pistols about the fellow, and he was very handsome. Have I not alluded xo his likeness to me? 1 am afraid my good wishes for the ro^ue cooled down in the face of Dora's adulation, and I began tc think that such a menace to society would be better at Dartmoor after all. When we reached the house, I prepared for storms. But the clouds had not gathered fully yet for the tremendous tornado that war in s4ore for me. The fh\st thing I realised was that the most shrunken suit of Percy's night attire "would be more than ample in size for me, for he was one of the biggest men I have ever seen, and his hand-clasp was like a grip of iron. My mother-in-law-elect was a n-ervous, fussy little body, with Dora's eyes, bedimmed and made distant by a pair of igold-rimmed spectacles. They were all sorry about Muriel's absence. It did seem -hard that she was not there to show me off. I bore it with a brave smile. This fatal calm iefore the storm was making a fool of me. I thought myeelf a tremendous wag as I took iip Carl's photograph from the drawing-room mantelpiece and remarked that the artist responsible seemed to be labouring under the delusion that he was a caricaturist instead of a photographer ; and the dear old lady smiled and said they were much more pleased with the original. I have never related this little incident to Carl, though we are now the best of friends. I do not intend to let mv sense of humour rug. away with me a second time. We were certainly all three wonderfully alike — Carl, the convict, and myself. Then came the crash. I heard a newsboy in the street bawling out in strident tones : "Grite /-ensition ! William Foster at large. Paridin' in, another man's clothes Remarkable rise of double hoidentity!" At the same instant a telegraph boy arrived with a wire for my mother-in-law-elect. She read the massage, and tlie paper fluttered to the ground. She was as white as a ghost, as she pointed to jne. "Who is this man?" she said in a hoarse whisper. Here I lost my head, and made my first false move. I rudied madly for the street door. But I felt Percy's iron grip at my throat and Percy's even tones in mv ear. "No, you don't, my beauty," he said. "Dora, take mother upstairs, and give her a good stiff brandy. Give me that wire firsi" Dora obeyed in a mechanical manner. Sfoe'yeemed stunned, and did not look at me. When they had gone, Percy read the wire, still keeping an affectionate grip of my collar. "Have been victimised by escaped convict. Stole my clothes as I was bathing in the Dart. Have only just managed to persuade these blockheads here that I am not the prisoner, owing to Unfortunate resemblance to him. Tell Muriel all well. Coming by fust train. — Carl D esmond . ' ' The loom began to swim round as Percy read this message in the eaine unemotional tones in which he had informed me that I was his beauty. What diabolical agency was at work? Of cource I should wake "up and find myself in the railway carriage on my way to Haydock Park. "fck> you're the great Foster, are .you?" Percy eaid in the agreeable tone in which he might have asked me^f I knew the Smiths of London. "Indeed, lam not," I gasped. "It's all some horrible mistake. " "You certainly have made an error of judgment this time," Percy admitted with a chuckle. "I can't- understand it. I always understood you were such a wily customer. I can't follow your motive in coming here. But then I have never probed into the secrets of the criminal mind. Jolly 'nterestiug study, 1 should say. Excuse my lugging you over to this bell. I want to get hold of the butler." He proceeded to pilot me over towards the bell, with his hand clown the inside of my collar, after the manner of a policeman. It was too much for me. Humiliation, rage, and fear lent me unusual strength. I made one frantic wrench for fieedom, and the next moment I felt as if I were being hanged. Percy referred to me once more as his beauty, and said I musn't try on my parlour tricks with him, or he mi,ght be compelled to jive me once round tlie duckyard. I inferred that this was some undesirable form of persuasion on his part, so I modestly withheld my repeitoire of indoor amusements for long winter evenings and al-loM-sd him to ring the bell. I will not dwell on all the humiliating incidents that followed the arrival of the inspector, who di^cu&sed with Percy the dibpoeal of myself (it appeared that the cells at St. Helens Police Station were all full, as a natural corollary of the day's racing at Haydock Park) as if I had been a sack of potatoes. At length I ivas accommodated in a tpare loom with a wire-covered tky light ad *he only possible means of egiess. The inspector turned the key on me, and, leaving a subordinate to guard the door, departed for another field of action, as nothing could be done in my case till the arrival of Carl and the prison officials from the south. I was sitting in my temporary dungeon with my gloomy and uncomfortable thoughts as my sole companions, when the skylight became suddenly darkened. Looking up, I caw Dora's • brown eyes gazing sorrowfully down at me. It was a weird expeiknce. I felt rather like a goldfish in a glass jar with those wondering brown orbs gazing down at me. In a very short time 1 saw that the skylight was stealthily sliding down. In another minute a rope . was dangling within my easy grasp. J "It's fastened round the chimney," Dora whispered,* "you can climb up quite easily." In a jiffy (or maybe half a jiffy, dead , reckoning) I had swarmed up the iope,

and Dora was lugging me through the aperture by the shoulders. A kick, a wriggle, and we were together on the slates. "It was all my fault, my poor man," Dora whispered, "and I am going to save you, if I have to go to prison myself for doing so." She, then, took me for William Foster, too. Even in my extremity I could find it in my heart to feel jealous of that debonair highwayman. "Good lady," I said, "I can see that you take me for William Foster. I am not he." "Not he?" Dora gasped. "Then what are you doing in Carl's clothes? I helped Muriel select that pattern, as a present for him, when we were at Leeds, and the shopman assured us that it was the only suit-length of its kind on earth." Here was the last nail in my coffin. The clothes the convict had stolen were an exact replica of my own new suit. I vowed vengeance on the tailor who had befooled me. With my resemblance to the prisoner, it seemed to my disordered mind that the fellow by some diabolical cunning had succeeded in foisting his own undesirable identity, clothes and all, on to me. I seemed to be bidding a wistful farewell to the happy, thoughtless Algernon who had stepped so blithely into the train at Liverpool, and to be taking on William Foster's premises and goodwill as a going concern. "You don't mean to tell me you really ark Carl, and the telegram is a hoax?" . I thought I detected a shade of d;sappointment in her voice. "I am neither Carl nor the convict. My name is Algernon Spencer, my father is a cotton broker in Liverpool, and I'm heartily sorry for having made such a fool of myself and of you. I would ask you to forgive me if I thought it possible." I expected her to draw herself up (as far as the top of the chimney would allow) and wither me with one glance. To my astonishment and relief, I found that the elements of the universe were once more tumbling helter-skelter into their proper places. By which 1 hope you understand that a silvery peal of laughter startled the house-sparrows. It was promptly dammed up by the hasty insertion of a lace pocket handkerchief into the place where the explosion had occurred. She remembered the policeman downstairs. "Is this a farce, a melodrama, or a tragedy?" she inquired of me. I was unable to say. ' "I think it is Pineroesque drama of a highly flavoured description," she said, evidently .pleased with her powers of classification. "The house-top scene is decidedly Gallic, to say the least of it." "I'm awfully sorry I was such a young idiot," I said. "If I have to complete Foster's time for him at Dartmoor it will serve me jolly well right. But I won't mind that if" I knowi you have forgiven me," "Let me see," said Dora, knitting her brows. "You have taken an unpardonable liberty. But half a minute. I told you to kiss me, didn't I?" "You eaid. ' Now, you must kiss me, I replied, feeling like a man who has been condemned to death and recommended to mercy. "And you thought it would put me in a very embarrassing position if you refused?" I told the truth and shamed the devil. "I did it because I thought it would be so nice." I said. "Well, the question is now, How are we going to get out of thi6 very awkward position?" Dora said, ignoring mv last remark. "According to the rules of drama, we are two young people in a compromising position." i I agreed that that was 60. and suggested that the young people would have to wi'ite the last act of the comedy or tragedy, or whatever it was, for themselves. Two things had to be done. First, I had to riereuade the authorities that I was not William Foster. Second. I had to explain who I was. and what I was doing in that house, and how I came to be in the hansom with Dora. • The last • question presented it-self to me as most urorently demanding an answer. The position in which I had placed Dora was an unfortunate one, to say the least of it. And the outrage to the feelings of Muriel and Carir The edifice I had built by mv idiotic pi'opensity for humour ' was labyrinthine in it« ramifications. Whichever way I looked I was confronted by its bulky proportions. "There is only one way out of it," said Dora; "we must become engaged." i "If you were only serious!" I "Is this a time for l'oking' By asking , you to kiss me before asking: for your credentials. I placed you in a position of temptation to which you yielded. Do you really mean you wish I were serious?" "Indeed. I do. Oh, Dora!" "Then lam serious, Algernon. Haven't yon srot another name?" "Clarence; but call me anything you like." "Then T pee a way out. I think. It's too ab«nrd to think that yon wont be able to prove you are not William Foster. Whatever this w, it is not comic opera. Since I am to understand that we are now engaged " "Oh. Dora!" "Let's start being really engaged when we have seen this wretched business ! through," Dora said, widening the strip of date that lay between up, which I had materially lessened in my rapture. "Since'we are really an engaged couple, what is to prevent our nre-dating our engagement by a week' I was in Liverpool at a dance last week. There I met you. It was a case of love at first eight." "That part of the story is tiue, at any rate." "I said. , ' "The love-at-fir*t "iifht part' I br-Wve it i.«. Clarence. Ha\en't you any other name?" "Onil-mp Dick." T ?iiggrsie.-l. '•Very well, Dick. I am known to my family as a notorious practical joker. What nvire natural thing, then, should happen than that I should seize the opportunity presented by Muriel's illnees to -

introduce my fiance to the family in at novel and amusing way ? "

A light dawned on me. " I go to the station to meet my fiance, pretending it is Muriel's man I am going to meet. We were really not sure about Carl's train, 6O 'that lend? plausibility to the story. We really did not know whether he vras coming via Liverpool or Manchester. Then I bring" my lover home, and our little joke if spoiled by this awful mistake about the convict. I can't understand about this suit yet." "I assure you I had this suit made up from a piece of cloth. I saw at my tailor's at Liverpool. He swore that rfc was the only length of its kind that was ever made. I expect they have, really turned out miles of the wretched staff and the man was lying to me." " Tailors are fibbers, and the truth is not in them," Dora remarked. At this point we were interrupted by a. noise in my prison below. Someone hadl opened tits door. It pleases me to remember that Dora clutched my' arm. " How can I ever apologise ? " I heard Percy saving. " Great Scott ! He's gone ! " We listened in breathless silence. ' It's a bloomin' mystery," the inspector said. "One Foster safely stowed away in Bournemouth cells and another Foster at St. 'Elens." ~ " There are three explanations," Percy replied. " Either we were both drunk or suffering from an hallucination, or els© Foster is gifted with some diabolical power of appearing simultaneously in the north and south of England, and disappearing equally mysteriously, or eke thia man I nabbed bears a remarkable resemblance to the convict and was wearing a suit exactly similar to the one Foster stole from Carl. I am inclined to the last solution, though. I- am unwilling to believe that there be twp such suits in England." " Perhaps that opened skylight could explain the mysterious disappearance trick,'" the inspector suggested. " Since they 'aye got Foster safely under lock and key at Bournemouth, 6ir, what do you say to let tin 1 sleepm' dogs lie? Regard the third party as a drunk and 'ush it up. I shall be the laughing stock of the force over this 'ere business." Here Dora popped her head over the skylight. • Perhaps I can explain," she &aid in her silkiest tones. " The gentleman whom you have been maltreating, **ercy, is my fiance. He is now on the roof with me, as it seems the only safe place for him as long 86 you persist in beSaving in this extraordinary way." - " Great Scott ! " said Percy. "William Foster, known as the vaudeville forger, who made such « 'dramatic dash for liberty, and was run to earth on the cliffs at Bournemouth six ago, was released this morning". He has been' snapped up by a music-hall syndicate, who have offered him the princely salary of £200 per week." "I hope that will be sufficient to keep him out of mischief," I said as I concluded this little tit-bit from the newspaper for Dora's benefit at breakfast this morning. "He really is a charming fellow. I see he is to be Dick Tur-pin in the next ballet at the Alhambra." "We must go to town on purpose to see him," Dora replied from behind the coffee urn. " Oh, Fluffy, you dirty little girl ! " I gazed • reflectively at Fluffy, who had both her small hands in the honey-jar. 1 wonder if Fluffy would never have tasted the delights of honey if I had gone in search of that imaginary King Charley spaniel after all.