THE RECTOR’S GUEST.

Otago Witness, Issue 3870, 15 May 1928, Page 81

THE RECTOR’S GUEST.

By

Gerald Gordon.

(Copyright.—For the Otago Witness. The Reverend Howard Vyse, M.A., rector of Abbots Close, was plainly in difficulties. He was standing at the wicket gate of a great London terminus, holding up a queue of impatient fellowtravellers whilst he vainly searched his pockets for the wallet containing his ticket. But the pocket-book had gone, and, unhappily enough, all his money with it. Mr Vyse was a tall, benevolent man of about middle age, with slightly stooping shoulders that proclaimed the scholar, and at the moment his kindly, ruddy face was puckered in abiect dismay.

“ You must pay the fare, sir, and you’re keeping everybody waiting,” the ticket collector brusquely informed him. “ That’s not quite right." You mayonly ask the gentleman for his name and address,” a cultured voice told the official, and the clergyman turned to see the speaker. He was a smart, wellgroomed man, undoubtedly a gentleman, and one of means. “ Excuse my intrusion,” he said, very courteously, “ but I see you are in difficulties, which I tiust are only temporarj 7 .” The cleric explained, with a comic despair on hi« face, what had befallen him, meanwhile going through all his pockets again. “ Dear me, it’s gone, I’m afraid,” he said ruefully.

“ Well, then, I must be your banker,” the other told him pleasantly, after a word of sympathy. Mr Vyse hesitated for a moment, and looked about him, blinking gravely through his gold-rimmed spectacles. He did not care to borrow money in ordinary circumstances, even from his friends. “ But, my dear sir, you are stranded without money—and it would be a privilege to help the church,” the stranger said. He was very polite and pressing, and had dived a hand into his pocket to produce a couple of treasury notes. “ Just from one gentleman to another,” he urged, holding out the notes. With effusive thanks, the cleric decided to accept the loan, and carefully wrote down his benefactor’s name and address, assurii g the latter that he would be repaid as soon as he reached his parish. Colonel Ansterley genially waved aside the other s thanks, and, putting up his stick for a taxi, was borne citvwards, leaving his companion with the firm impression that human nature was not nearly so unregenerate as he and his reverend brethren supposed. renew my acquaintance with you if you observed in a "postscript when he discharged his debt the next day. When the colonel had read the letter he carefully tore off the add:ess from the top and put it into his poeket. The steely look that crept into his eyes doubtless meant he would probably take the clergyman at his word—when the time came. Sonic weeks later a well-appointed motor car drove down the straggling high street of Abbots Close, and stopped outside the rectory door. To be. precise, it was the day after the great jewel robbery m Regent Street, when the watchman of the shop was found badly battered, and no less than £20,000 worth of jewels and silver was taken. A succession of thefts of this kind had taken place in different parts of the metropolis, but this affair was the climax, and a pronii>>p’>t flajiv paper was asking on its placards all over the country, “Where are the police r ” The rector was writing in his study ■when his visitor was announced. “ Ah rector, you’ve forgotten me already, I see,” he said, entering the room, but the look of inquiry on the clergyman’s face passed in a moment. “ This is a pleasure, Colonel Ansterlev,” he said shaking his hand. “ I’m delighted— very (..flighted, and you will stay for lunch? ” The colonel was sorry, but had to go on. He was _ merely in the district, and thought it an opportunity of rccallin" the pleasure of his brief acquaintance with the rector when the fates weie so unkind. But when Mrs Vyse renewed the invitation to join them in their meal, the colonel hesitated, and then -agreed’ Clergymen’s wives are as susceptible to the charm of a cultured voice and handsome face as the wives of other men, and Mrs Vyse insisted, and she left the two men chatting pleasantly over their cigars while- she went into the kitchen to make suitable alterations in the menu. The luncheon w-as barely a success, however, for the meal had scarcely begun when the guest’s conversation begarT to flag,, and the next moment he almost slipped from his chair to the floor with a violent pain in his side. The rector assisted the unhappy man to the couch, while his wife rang the bell violently for brandy. With his teeth chattering, he explained that it was the effect of a wound, and would soon be all right. Bit of shrapnel loose in me,” he murmured with frequent apologies. Pi esently he arose from the.couch with his hand pressed to his side, to assure his host that there was not the slightet need for a doctor; if he could rest quietly for an hour he would he quite fit again. He w-as begged to abandon his journey till the morrow, and almost beside himself with apologies, he consented, and wad led to the spare room on the arm of the rector. ' The simple clergyman little knew that the man he was assisting into bed was

the cleverest jewel thief and the most wanton rogue in London, for whom the police were searching in all his haunts. This polished scoundrel had lived by his wits ever since he was kicked out of his university for cardsharping. So fat he had managed to escape Um viguance of the “ Yard,” his easy manners and suave cultured voice being matched by his gifts of brain - and cunning. For 10 days the “colonel” chuckled to himself in this quiet retreat, enjoying the kindly hospitality of the Vyses no less than the accounts in the papers of the fruitless search which was proceeding for him elsewhere. The rector found him a delightful companion, however, and under his agreeable manner discerned a thoughtful and sympathetic personality. “ A model layman of the church, my dear, church and State all the way through,” he told his wife, beaming. “ A splendid product of our English public schools,” and Mrs Vyse concurred eagerly. On the Sunday morning Ansterley sat with the good lady in the rectory pew, and read the lessors at the service, the many glances bestowed on her and her companion keeping her in a pleasant flutter. She could see the squire and his wife were giving more of their attention and interest to them than to her husband in the pulpit; nor was she altogether displeased, and her thoughts were projected to the usual little pleasant gossip in the church porch after the service when she would proudly present the colonel to her wealthier neighbours. But there was a surprise for Ansterley that roused all the cupidity in him and which, incidentally, brought about his undoing. After the service the rector led him into the vestry. “ Como and see our treasure-trove,” he said innocently, and with childish mystification he slowly unlocked the safe which contained the church plate. The steel doors swung back and revealed a magnificent array of silver. There was a pair of heavy silver candlesticks, a large alms-dish, fully two feet in diameter, heavily flowered in relief, and smaller sacramental vessels, but the piece de resistance was a very beautiful silver chalice, with a bell-shaped bowl decorated with floral arabesque, set on a graceful stem which terminated at the base in a fillet of egg and dart moulding. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and Ansterley’s eyes glistened with the passion of a connoisseur. “ There, I thought you would like it,” the rector said with pride.

The colonel was plainly enraptured, and pronounced it the most beautiful goblet he had ever seen. It had been valued at over a thousand pounds, Mr Vyse told him in 'answer to a question, adding cryptically that “we don’t say too much about its value—in these days;” with which bit of worldly wisdom Ansterley readily agreed. Mr Vyse went on to say in a reverent voice that “ the virgin Queen had herself held it in her hand and had partaken from it, too,” he added. Ansterley took the goblet in his hand, holding it up to the light, and decided at once to steal it. His visit to Abbots Close was not a business one, but this was a chance which his professional acumen could hardly be expected to resist. And the risks were infinitesimal. He handed the chalice back to be locked up again, remarking that the responsibility of having such a treasure was indeed heavy. The key of the church safe was one of a bunch which the rector kept on his pocket chain, he noticed. Mrs Vyse had asked a friend to lunch to meet her guest, but the latter was not in his best form and seemed preoccupied, and the conversation languished.

Two mornings later Mrs Vyse’s housemaid took the colonel’s morning tea and shaving water to his room as usual, to find it unoccupied. She hurried to her mistress, who concluded, at first, that her guest had risen early for a stroll in the garden, or down to the village, perhaps. Then the rector made the disquieting discovery in his dressing room that his keys had gone. The loss of the keys, reviewed together with the continued absence of Ansterley, raised in them both the gloomiest suspicions, and it was a very worried and harassed clergyman who hurried breakfast’ess to church to investigate. The safe was locked as usual, but on inquiry at the garage Mr Vyse learnt that his guest had hurriedly taken out his ear at the hour the establishment opened that day. The makers of the safe were communicated with at once, and later in the long day a representative arrived with a duplicate key. and the safe was opened. “Gone—the chalice gone! ” the unhappy rector moaned, and the poor man collapsed on a bench. Ansterley was arrested a month later trying to dispose of his theft. Several of his recent “ jobs ” were brought homo to him at his trial, and he was sent to penal servitude for a number of years. It was a cunning scheme to gain an entry to a quiet country rectory after his huge haul in the Regent street affair, and had not his instincts outrun discretion he might have escaped the law. The good folk oi Abbots Close will tell you that robbing a shop is one thing and robbing a church another, and it was his sacrilege that caused his traditional luck to desert him. Who knows that they are not right? Though the detective in charge of the case took a more prosaic view of the matter. “We only have to wait long enough and the cleverest of ’em over-reach themselves,” he said.