No. 7 SACKVILLE – – SQUARE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3335, 13 February 1918, Page 48

No. 7 SACKVILLE - - SQUARE.

THE NOVELIST.

[All Rights Reserved.]

BY WILLIAM QUEUX. CHAPTER I.—THE MAN WITH THE GLASSES. "Where on earth can I have put those infernal glasses?" i The short, elderly man, George Rathburn, spoke in aiv irritable voice. It was not a pleasant voice at the best of times, but when he was put out or worried, it took on a most disagreeable inflection. His appearance was insignificant. His features were harsh and heavy. The head was fine, the forehead broad,' denoting intelligence beyond the average, the mouth firm, with a suggestion of latent cruelty. The whole face was redeemed from absolute plainness by the piercing dark eyes, in which there seemed to always burn a restless fire. A mass of iron-grey hair matched in colour a carefully trimmed beard. His age was somewhere about sixty. The young mart, his son, Jack Rathburn, laughed pleasantly. "Don't bother about them now, dad. Let yourself be natural for once. V The breakfast is growing cold. Sit down let us,talk. There's plenty to talk about." Jack Rathburn did not resemble his irritable, father in a single detail. He was elegant, where the- old man was clumsy. He was good-looking in a way, with a refined, aesthetic face. His light blue eyes were colourless his voice pleasant and insinuating. ( His- manners were decidedly good, and he was hardly ever ruffled.

The other man did not respond to his son's' genia] mood. "I shouldn't be natural if I hadn't them on," he answered sourly. And he dashed out of the room—he was remarkably active for his age —and went up to his bedroom. ? , At( the end of a few moments he returned- with the spectacles well fixed on his unattractive countenance. Their recovery seemed to appease him somewhat. Anyway, his manner and voice were less brusque. It was a very substantial breakfast, and both applied themselves to it with great gusto. The father ate with an almost wolfish appetite; in. fact, he swallowed rather than ate, with the air of a man who consumes food with the sole purpose of* supplying himself with energy for the day's work that lies in front of him. Jack, on the other hand, took time over his meal. He appreciated as well as consumed. Then, when breakfast was over, George Kathbuorn pulled out his" cigar-case and extracted a big cigar, which he lit with the rapidity that characterised all his movements. "

"Light up yourself, and let us talk," he said brusquely. The son was as leisurely as the'father was abrupt. It seemed ages before he had got an Egyptian cigarette into his mouth and was ready to talk. / "Now, we are both comfortable, let us go ahead," he said in his calm, unruffled accents, and looking fixedly at his parent with his steadfast, colourless, blue eyes.

And, for a quarter of an, hour, they were engaged in very earnest conversation, the elder speaking most of the time, but the younger man cutting in, at appropriate intervals, with a few trenchant remarks or criticisms that were very valuable. Their value was admitted with a sort of reluctant grunt by George Ruthburn. Anybody who met Jack casually would have classed him as a very ordinary young man, endowed with intelligence rather below than above the average. But appearances are misleading. Behind that indifferent and half-ajsthetic exterior was hid a very subtle brain.

There were many things the father did not approve of in his offspring. - He gave too much thought to his clothes, he was very particular about his food. He preferred Egyptian cigarettes to big, wholesome, black-looking cigars. In fact, in many things he la-cked robustness. But there were several other qualities to counteract the defects. In swiftness of thought, in subtlety and insight, Jack was greater than his father. The one point in which the older man scored was rapidity in action. He Mas really the bigger of the two through that fact. While they were in the middle of a very animated argument, the door opened noiselessly, to give admittance to an elderly man, dressed in the garb of a butler. yßut he was by no means a highclass specimen of his profession. His attire was very rusty, and. he shambled rather than walked. The elder man waved his hand impatiently 'and spoke in his harshest voice. "Go away, please. How often have I told you not to disturb me till I ring." A sidlon look came over the man's face, but he withdrew in obedience to his master's bidding. Jack lit another cigarette. "I wish you would be .a ;little "more diplomatic; dad," he said, rather warmly for him. "Grimes is a fool. I admit, but there is no need to put his back up. You could have said the same thing in a way that would have eiven no offence." Rathburn admitted the justice of the remark with a sort of apologetic grunt. He knew as well as Jack that it is unwise to give full rein to an ' ungovernable temper. "I can't stand a fool who will not obey orders; nothing riles me more. It doesn't affect you as it does me."

They talked for another five minutes and then Rathburn got up. "Well, I must be off to this old fool, Paske. I shall get' a taxi outside and catch my train comfortably."

The son rose, too. " I can't help wishing there were some other way out. I would have liked to settle down here for a bit. I rather like this dingy old square." "And I loathe it," said George Rathburn with vehemence. " The happiest moment of my life will be when 1 turn my back on it. I'm off." Left alone, Jack sat down and mused. He could not quite explain to himself why he' had given utterance to that sentimental remark. He had been used to sudden changes of residence since his boyhood.

Saville square was one of the gloomiest squares in one of the gloomiest districts of -London. The houses were built around a depresing garden, which even- summer could *not vivify into -any semblance of cheerfulness. The rooms were large and the windows too narrow to light them properly. A woman might have done something with No. 7. She might have filled the sombre rooms with flowers, introduced elegant furniture and bright hangings, diffused a general air of daintiness into the surroundings. Jack might have done something himself in this direction, but what was the good? It would have been wasted on two men centred in their business. They had never had a home in any sense. of the word. They were never likely to have one.' They 'were only birds of passage.

And then he remembered that Grimes wanted to clear away, and he rang the bell. The man in the shabby butler's clothes appeared. The scowl had not- j died away from his face. * Jack observed everything with those steadfast, expressionless eyes. He hastened" to propitiate the elderly servitor. " The governor's in a devil of a* temper this morning, Grimes. Best dp as I do — take no notice'. His bark's worse than his bite." '

But Grimes was in a smouldering mood. "You are all right, Mr Jack, but he's getting more than flesh and blood can stand. He flares out at the slightest thing. I've been faithful to him for ten years, but there are times when I feel I must cut the blessed show for good and all." He busied himself with removing the breakfast things, and went on in a grumbling tone, with just a hint of menace in it.

"And that mightn't be a good thing for him. Maybe I'm a fool. I must be since he has told me so often enough; but' I've been very useful. And clever as he is, or thinks himself, he can't do everything himself." Young Bathburn crossed over and laid his hand kindly on the shoulder of the man in his shabby butler's- attire. He could be very genial when he liked. At heart he was, perhaps, no more sympathetic than his father, but he could convey a much better impression. "Buck up, old man, and don't take it to heart. And, above all, don't talk of chucking us—that's all rot. My father really appreciates you immensely, though sometimes he has a queer way of showing it. And you know I am always here to act as a sort of buffer and see fair? play." The man's face, which was not an unprepossesing one, cleared somewhat. He was really fond of Jack, who had always been courteous and considerate to him.

Young Rathburn noted the change and pursued his advantage. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't now," he said cheerfully. " And, as I said just now, the governor's bark is always worse than his bite. But when he comes back I'll give him a hint, to keep that infernal tempter of his in check." Grimes seemed half coaxed back to serenity with those cheering words. Certainly, when he had finished his work and left the room the scowl on his face had quite disappeared. Jack Rathburn gave vent to an impatient explanation when he was left alone. "As Grimes hints, he gets worse," he muttered. "Half my time is taken up apologising for him and smoothing things over. He'd get so much more out of everybody if he knew how to be pleasant and conciliatory."

He went to the window and looked out on the long narrow plantation that stretched between the tall, gloomy house in. this gloomiest of all London squares. It was a beautiful spring morning, and the sun was shining brightly. In the iong reach of garden there were here and there a few beds, with a parsimonious display of the flowers in season.

But he-was fain to confess that nothing could much relieve the prevailing dullness. There was a want of space in the plantation and the roadway; the architecture of the houses was mean and forbidding. The sunshine, brilliant as it was, seemed to find its, way in with difficulty through the tall buildings. He could hardly account to himself for the reluctance he felt in leaving it. He only knew that, for some undefinable reason, the reluctance was very marked.

As he stood there % taxi drove up to the next house—No. '6. After it had waited a few moments a tall woman came out, accompanied by a trim-looking maid carrying a small brown paper parcel, which she deposited in the cab. Before getting in the tall woman turned round to speak to the servant, and presented a full view of herself to the watcher at the window.

She was a very remarkable person, obviously a foreigner. She had a slim and elegant figure, and if vou had been walking behind her you might have taken her for a young woman. But when you looked at her face, artfully as she made it up, or, perhaps, for that reason, you knew she had long ago left youth behind her. Her abundant hair was dyed an exceedingly vivid colour. Her cheeks, rather thin, were plastered with rouge and powder. Her large dark eyes were rendered more prominent by the help of art.

The net result wag one of extreme flamboyance, Rathburn drew back from the window so that he should not be seen watching her. He laughed softly. . " 0!d Mother LcCoq dressed to kill', as usual, and made up "with all the resources of art," he thought to himself. '' She must be fifty-five if she's a minute, and she tries to 'make herself look like eighteen. What a pity she. hasn't found out she doesn't deceive anybody. I wonder what she has in that neat little parcel?" In the meantime George Rathburn was proceeding towards Godalming in a somewhat elow train that stopped irritatingly at unimportant stations. This dilatory progress by no means improved the temper that had been ruffled early in the morning by the hunt for his glasses. Arrived at the station, he hailed a cab. "Do you know Mr Paske'e house?" and on the man saying he did, "Drive me there as quickly' as you can," he ordered.

The driver explained before he mounted the box that Mr Paske's residence was on a hill, and that he could only take him to the foot of it, as the path was too steep and narrow for the taxi to climb. " I know that as well as you do,'' replied Mr Rathburn with his . usual amiability. " Drive me as near as you can, and be quick about it. I've-'lost time enough already in that crawling train."

Arrived at his destination, Rathburn got out, paid the driver, and proceeded to climb the, steep, narrow path leading to the iron gate which gave admittance to Mr Paske's premises. Being stout and scant of breath, it was a task of some difficulty. Before he was half-way to-his goal be had to stand still to recover himself. He was puffing like a grampus, and the perspiration streamed from his face. This severe exercise did not add to his amiability by any means. He cursed the place, and he,cursed Paske for living in a house which could only be reached by a practised mountain-climber. Arrived at the iron gate, the latch of which was stiff, and hurt his fingers in opening it, Rathburn was confronted with a formidable series of steps, which had to be negotiated before he could enter the paradise beyond. ~ At last, however, his troubles were over, and he stood on the summit in a very pretty garden, rioting in shrubs and gay spring flowers. He saw the figure of a young girl kneeling in front of a bed of hyacinths. Hearing footsteps, the figure rose and came towards /him. It was that of Miss Paske, the only child of her widowed father. She advanced with outstretched hand.

"You are Mr-Rathburn, are you not? Your son came here once when you took the house, but I was away when you called afterwards. My father .will be very pleased to see you. It's a bit of a climb, is it not?" . "■ \

Even George Rathburn's chronic illhumour could not stand against this dainty / vision of English girlhood, -with her charming figure, her sunny hair, her soft blue eyes, and musical voice. He took off his hat and mopped his streaming brow. " I daresay it's all right for you, ' he said, speaking as graciously as he could, " but how, your father''at his age ctands it beats me. If I had'to do this climb half a dozen times a week I should be dead before I got to the second week." Miss Paske smiled good-humouredly, disclosing a set of very perfect teeth. "It used to try father a good deal at first, but now he says he has. got used to it. Well, come in at once srid we will give you some refreshment to restore you." She led the way to the house, but before they reached the entrance Mr Paske made his appearance upon the scene and welcomed his visitor in genial tones. " Glad to see you, Mr Rathburn—glad to see you. _ I see you've made acquaintance with my little girl." CHAPTER lI.—THE HAUNTED HOUSE. Mr Paske was the exact opposite of his visitor. While Rathburn was short and thick-set, he was tall and spare. He was , very nearly the same age. but his slimness made him appear ten years younger. In temperament, too, there were th« same opposing qualities. While Rathburn .could hardly keep decently civil for half an hour at a-stretch, Paske diffused geniality all over him, in voice, manner, and person. You could see at a glance he was one of those cheery persons who would make allowances for everybody, and put the most charitable construction on everything. He surveyed Rathburn's inflamed countenance, and perceived that he bad .suffered severely in the ascent of the steep path. ' "The one slight drawback to this place, which, I think, is one of the prettiest nooks in Surrey, is the getting to it," he explained in a tone that was meant to convey that no man of spirit was to be disturbed by such a trifling inconvenience. Rathburn had long - ago made up his mind that his landlord was a fool; he had known that by the easiness with which he had agreed to all the demands of his tenant. As Paske stood there, surveying his * perspiring countenance with a genial and quite friendly smile, he was not only confirmed in his previous impressions, but felt a positive hatred for him. He rasped out in his most disagreeable voice, "I think, for the' benefit of those unfortunate people who have to' visit you, you should make a light railway from the bottom of that beastly path." ' The tones were very offensive, but Paske was so incapable of giving offence himself, that he very rarely discovered offence m others. He laughed heartily, regarding it as a humorous sally on the part of the angry man. "By Jove, that's capital," he said appreciatively. "The idea ought to have . struck me lorig ago." He turned to his

daughter. "Mr Rathburn is quite a humorist, eh, Lilian?" But Lilian Paske pnly responded with a quite cold smile. She had detected in the tones what her good-natured and not too observant father had missed, the brutality that lay at the back of the man's nature. The amiable Paske -went on with delightful ignorance of the growing illhumour of the other. "Well, Mr Rathburn, you shall come into my den, and I will give you a drink that will soon put you to rights, and make you forget that climb. But, first of all, I must show you the splendid view we have from here, not to be beaten in Surrey, or for the matter of that in any other country. Come with me. v ' * He led the way and the reluctant Mr Rathburn had to follow him, inwardly raging. He had come here to talk business, not to stand and gape at scenery. The enthusiastic Paske stood still, and with eloquent hand outstretched, pointed out to his visitor the various beauties of the lovely panorama stretched before them. "That takes a bit of beating, Mr Rathburn, eh?" he queried in a triumphant voice. The man with the glasses felt it was useless being angry with this self-centred creature—anger rolled off him like water from a duck's back. He would" try sarcasm. "I dare say it has all the merits you claim for it, but, unfortunately, I'm no lover of the country. I prefer the Strand and Piccadilly to the finest scenery you can show me." . And even the obtuse Paske began to see that he was in the company of a man with whom he had nothing in common, and a personality' that had no attraction. He only permitted himself one remark. "God bless me, what a remarkable taste I" Then he led the way to the house, where they met Lilian in the hall. She looked first at the visitor, then at her father. . "Mr Rathburn will stay to lunch, of course," she said. She' had taken an intense dislike to the man; but the laws of hospitality had to be sacredly observed, even towards obnoxious persons. Mr Rathhurn seemed to hesitate. Mr Paske warmly seconded his daughter's invitation. . "Of course, of course, I can lake no denial. I can't let you drag up here, and go without partaking of my salt." And Rathburn accepted with the best grace he could muster. He had come here for the purpose, of asking a favour. It 'was now past twelve, and although Paske had proved himself a very easy-going person in the past, he might kick a bit at the unusual request that was about to be pu* to him. Tt. might take some time to secure his consent. He had better affect a geniality that he did not feel. • "Thanks very much. .1 suppose I can get ( a taxi back from here?" '.' "No need of a taxi, my dear sir. As sopn as you have finished your business, settle the tram you are going by, and my car shall run you down." Again the man had to assume a politeness foreign to his nature, and express his thanks to this good-hearted creature with whom he had not a single idea in common, and whom, in his private thoughts, he considered.a fool. _ The affair of lunch having been settled, Paske led the way to what he called his den. It was a pretty modern house, rather of the suburban type. A long wide hall ran the whole length of the dwelling, and from this the three rooms-drawing-room, dining-room, and studylooked on to the gardens. From each one oi the . several windows, the eye rested on that charming view which so delighted the host, and had so annoved the visitor. Lilian had a cosy little boudoir upstairs, over the hall. _When they were closeted in the den 1 aske produced a whisky decanter and soda-water, and passed them to the wearied traveller;

"There, Mr Rathburn, mix yourself a stiff dose of that, and you'll soon forget your climb up here." ° . Rathburn helped himself to a very modest portion, explaining that he rarely took stimulants—that, in fact, his doctor had recommended him to abstain from them altogether. Paske, who, in spite of his slimness, had the constitution of a horse, and was under no medical restrictions, took a more liberal measure and pledged his guest "And now, sir, we have nice time before lunch. Perhaps you might like to go into the business which has brought you here." Rathburn surveyed him keenly through his disfiguring glasses. When "he spoke his manner was much more courteous than hitherto. He could put on courtesy when he had something to gain. . "Before I come to the main point. Mr **u ' Li m afraid T must trouble'you with a little personal history " "No trouble at all, sir.' I sha ll be pleased to hear-#£" . "Well shortly after I took your house m Saville square I began to suffer from unusual symptoms. Up to lately I have always enjoyed robust health. But for some months these unusual symptoms of lasitudo, faintness. and insomnia began to develop themselves in a rather ,alarminc manner." " Been overworking yourself a bit," suggested Paske. " That is what the doctor tells me. I siippose yon have no idea of my occupation." "I cannot say I have, Mr Rathburn. I don't know that I even thought about it. But somehow, I think I had a notion that, like myself, you had retired from business." Rathburn shook his head with a melancholy air. "I wish it were so. I should then have had the rest of which I stood sorely in need. As a matter of fact. I am nn inventor." He paused a moment to allow bis host to take in the fact.

Paske repeated " An inventor," but made no comment. " It Is not a very paying thing, as I daresay you know, went on Rathburn. "The inventor can do nothing without the capitalist, and it is that gentleman who makes a fortune out of the other man's brains." "I daresay," assented Paske, who was not feeling very much at home on this subject." " Well, to continue. I worked a bit too hard, and instead of going to a doctor in the first instance, as I ought V> nave done, I delayed and delayed till I could put it off no longer. And the doctor's Verdict is thisi I am suffering from a severe nervous breakdown. I must knock off work at once—that I have done, —and I must go abroad for twelve months for a complete rest and change of scene." " I am very sorry to hear of your trouble," said Paske heartily. "But look on the bright side. You appear to me to be a strong man physically. And if you follow the doctor s advice I bet you will come back as sound as ever you were." " That is what he promises. And now I am coming to the point. It depends solely upon you, Mr Paske, whether I can follow his instructions or not." "My dear sir, you bewilder me. I do not understand." "I will explain," said Rathburn quietly. "I took No. 7 for three years certain. ' In the ordinary course my tenancy expires next June twelve months. I am a poor man, and I cannot afford to live abroad and pay rent for my London house as well." "I see," said Paske. "What do you propose?" " What I am going to propose is. I know, hard on you, but you must kindly consider my position. I want to get. away in a week's time. I suggest handing you the key, at the same time paying you an extra six months' rent. " Paske was very good-natured, and also a very generous man. But, truth to tell, Mr Rathburn had not made a good impression on him. And his visitor looked very strong and robust, not at all the sort of person suffering from a severe breakdown. He did not reply immediately, and Rathburn. closely observing him under the unsightly glasses, played his last card. There is a circumstance which, I think, contributed to this illness. I firmly believe No. 7 Saville square is haunted." Paske was fairly astonished. He gazed at him, struck speechless for the moment; then he "burst into hearty laughter. " My dear sir, in this enlightened twentieth century," he began, but the other raised his hand. "I quite understand. Nobody was more sceptical about these things than myself. I told you I began to suffer from insomnia. Well, lying awake at night I have heard strange things in that house, not once or twice, but dozens of times." "Nerves, simply," said Paske, with the firm conviction of a man sound in mind and body. " I have heard voices muttering in the drawing room beneath my bedroom. I have heard footsteps going up and down the stairs. Coming home late at night I have seen lights flashing when all the inmates of the house were in bed." " Hallucination, my dear sir," said Paske. " That marked the beginning of the breakdown.'' Rathburn noted, with a feeling of relief, that his voice was kind, almost pitying, v He persisted. " les, *I should have thought that, too, if there had been no corroboration. But my son, who is as level-headed as you are, heard them, too." For a moment Paske's face wore a puzzled expression. He could not find any explanation of the son's experience. " I told him of these things as I have told you, and he laughed at me as you are really laughing now. Well, I asked him to sit in my room and investigate for himself. The first time he heard nothing. On that occasion I heard nothing myself. The second time it was the same, but I implored him to persevere. The third time he heard them as plainly as I did, and if you go to him or ask him to come here he will tell yon the same." And then, although not a very quickwitted man, Paske grasped the obvious explanation. The . man's voice rang quite sincerely. He was evidently willing to produce young Rathburn if necessary to support these strange statements. Yes, it was quite simple. The son knew his father was in an overwrought condition, seeing visions, and dreaming strange dreams, and in order to soothe him he had pretended to agree with him. To have contradicted him would have been to make him worse. Paske spoke to him in a soothing voice, as he would have addressed an irresponsible child, or a man whose mind was temporarily unhinged. "I quite accept your explanation, Mr Rathburn, and I will do what you want. I will instruct my solicitor, Jay, to draw up the necessary documents. Go abroad for a year, and get back your nerves and strength. Ah, there is the luncheon' gong. Come along." When the meal was over, Lilian left them, and the men sat at the table for a quarter of an hour, chatting, till the arrival of the car which was to take Rathburn to the station. Miss Paske did not appear again. She bad no desire to say farewell to the parting guest. He " was a horriblo, disagreeable, rude old man. She had met him once, and she devoutly hoped she would never meet him again". Rathburn reached home in due course, cursing occasionally at the slowness of the train. But, on the whole, he was in ono of his best moods. He let himself into the haunted house with his latch-key. and went straight into the dining-room and rang the bell. It was answered by the shabby Grimes, who looked very stolid and uncompromising, but still obedient to discipline. Rathburn saluted him in quite a cordial

voice. Ah, Grimes, my good friend. Mr Jack in?" "No, Mr Eathburn. He went out after lunch and said he would not be back till late." "Well, bring up a small bottle of champagne, will you?" Grimes retired, his face having lost some of its stolidity. He entertained a slavish fidelity to the master who generally bullied him, bat occasionally spoke to him kindly as just now. He brought the champagne, and was about to leave. Rathburn motioned him to stop. "Get yourself a glass out of tho sideboard, and fill up. We shall be out of this beastly place directly." Grimes stood with his glass In his hand, waiting for his master to start. He felt he might take a liberty for once, "And when do you think that will be, Mr Rathburn?" "I hope in a week at the latest. Well, now, Grimes, we have got our glasses charged, we will drink a toast together. Success to the Rathburn inventions." "Success to the Rathburn inventions!" echoed Grimes. Then, laying down his glass, he left the room. It was not safe to trust too long to his master's newborn amiability. Tor the next few days there was a great bustle and stir in No. 7 . Saville square. Mr Rathburn was dismantling his house with a vengeance. The greatest part of the furniture was fetched away by a second-hand dealer. One small van-

load was left under the direction of his son, Jack. And this was taken away early in tho morning, in a small van, which had no owner's name on it. The night before the house was abandoned, George Rathburn slipped out about twelve o'clock, and walked very fast in the direction of Waterloo bridge. Arrived there, he leaned his arms on the parapet, and gazed towards St. Paul's. Then, presently, when ho felt there was no danger of observation from the few passers-by at that lonely hour, he swiftly drew a key from his pocket and flung it over tho parapet. He watched it strike and sink into the river, and then went back to Saville square, and stole , noiselessly up the uncarpeted stairs to bed. "There is one chapter closed," he muttered, as he undressed himself. (To be continued.)