THE TRUTHFULNESS OF BECKWITH.

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10574, 27 January 1906, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE TRUTHFULNESS OF BECKWITH.

Jason Beckwith awoke suddenly to the oppressing blackness of the night with that strange and yet familiar feeling that some-thing was wrong. Ho sat upright m bed and listened tor a moment. The heavy darkness, hemmed m by the low walls, and ceiling of his room, seemed to bear down upon him and deaden his sense of hearing. It wast only after a determined effort that he could hear the familiar ticking of the old-fashoned clock upon the mantle, which seemed to be running races with the sound that came, though muffled, from his watch under the pillow. Everything seemed as usual, but still he sat listening, straining his eyes m vain to see. A faint smell as of heated metal gradually became apparent, but the sense of a presence other than his own .made itself felt.

"Who's there?" he called. The trifling impediment m his speech came not from fear, but froni habit.

There was a sudden Hash, and then the. steady, imwinkablo glare of a dark lantern, and a tall figure rose suddenly from a crouching position m a farther corner of the room.

"By Jove!"it said, "its Jason — it's little Bunney Beckwith. Don't shoot, old man. Don't you know me?" "I can't very well shoot," repliedJason, "because my revolver is downstairs m the drkwer of the library table ; and your voice is familiar, but I can't quite recall — just let me t-turn on this electric light, will you? That lantern is rather blinding." He groped for a second on the' wall at the side of his bed, found the switch, and the room was suddenly filled with a soft light. The stranger carefully shut off his lantern and removed a small black mask that fitted closely to the upper half of his face. He was a tall man; the bold, strong outlines of his forehead and the long strong curve of jaw were' animated -by. a pair of eyes which were always glancing restlessly about, seeming to see everything at once and resting on nothing long. Beckwith stared at him curiously.

"Give me a moment," he said, "and lam sure to remember you. Why, you are — it can't be — T-tom Loring?" "Tom it is," was the answer, "though not exactly the Tom that you knew so many years ago. If you will recollect, I was top of our class, my junior year." "Yes, yes," rejoined the other; "what a funny old world it is, to be sure !"

He sat staring at the visitor, his hands clasped around his knees, his hair tossed and rumpled, and an expression of amazement m his round, blue eyes.

"Only," he continued, "you ought to wear < that mask thing over the other part of your face. That jaw of yours, Tommy, is t-too prominent to be easily forgotten."

The two men stared at each other reflectively, seriously; then a look of amusement began to grow about the corners of Beckwith's mouth. . .

"I recoUect,' 'he went on, "our last meeting. You had secured a girl 1 wanted for some very particular social function, and I was distinctly angry. But my grudge against you was drowned m the little supper we had that evening, when we swore eternal friendship and wept loudly on being forcibly parted for the night." "That was nearly 20 years ago," said Loring, thoughtfully, "and our foregathering to-night is— well different.'' He stood at the side of the bed* and looked down at Beckwith. "You were always such a confiding little chap, Beck," he said finally. "Whenever I've thought of you I've remembered the time that three of us got you to walk seven miles m that bad storm by telling you . some beautiful and' elaborate piece of fiction about — well, I've forgotten what it was about, but you were easy, Beck."

"I was," assented Beck, cheerfully; "but what of it? Come downstairs and, let me give you something to eat. We can t-talk better there."

He threw back the covers and touched one foot gingerly to the cold, -bare floor. But Loring pressed him gently back on the pillows.

"If it's all the same to you," he said, "we'll stay here. Not that I'm averse to prowling about other people's houses m the night, but I'm not used to being escorted by my host. Besides, I'm not hungry."

Oh, very well. Just toss me a pipe, will you? There are cigarettes and t-tobacco on the table. Light up, Tommy, and' make yourself at home. And if you will" open that cupboard over there you will find something more sub-, stantial than smoke."

Loring foraged until he had found the tobacco, but shook his head at the contents of the cupboard.

"Not just now,' 'he said, "though I won't deny that a man usually talks better with a glass m his hand. Here's your pipe, Beck; now let's be sociable." He sat down on the edge of the bed, tucked under his elbow the pillow Beckwith gave him, and lit a cigarette. The smoke curled up m light, thin, clouds. • "Would you mind t- telling me," said Beckwith, as he examined critically the carving on his pipe — "I'm consumed with curiosity to know — how you came to be a — a — you are one, aren't you?" "I am a full-fledged housebreaker, at your , service," answered Loring, politely. "Why? Oh, 1 don't know — 1 just drifted this way. My talents seem to lie m this direction."

"And — was it an accident that you happened upon my place t-to-night?'' "Not entirely. I heard that you were to be alone, and determined to pay you a visit, though I didn't count on your receiving me. You awoke too soon, Beek — m another minute 1 should have left you."

"What would you havo left me?" asked Beckwith, ironically. "My watch, for instance? T-that, at least, I have safe under my pillow." ,

Loring smiled. "I have only your purse," he said, "your studs, and a small package which you were careless enough to leave on the table, and which looks as if it might have come from a jeweller."

"It did," said Beckwith; "it's a ring that I got for my wife's birthday. She's coming home,jta;morrow." He smiled slightly as he thought oi the solid old family plate and jewels safely locked up m the library below. "Sorry -I can't give it back,'' said Loring, "but 1 need the money.'' There was a pause. The smoke was floating m misty layers above and around them. Loring looked curiously at the room, which was not much larger than a ship's cabin, and furnished with utmost plainness. It was, m fact, the only oasis, of simplicity which Beckwith had kept for himself m the desert of crowded ornateness with which hiß wife had filled their house.

"By the way,' said Beckwith suddenly, "how did you get m?" "Window," answered Loring, nodding toward the end of the. room.

"I thought 1 locked it." "You did, but the lock doesn't work. You may connect this with the fact that to-morrow you will have no maid to serve your breakfast."

Beckwith raised his eyebrows. "Such an excellent maid, too," he murmured, regretfully. "1 wish you wouldn't interfere with a man's domestic arrangements. You don't fully appreciate the difficulty of getting good servants."

The smoke thickened, and Beckwith' s silence lengthened into pensiveness. "Look hero, Tom," he said, "I wish you would t-teU me why you're m this. You were not half a bad chap you know, and " "Suppose I should teU you," said Loring, seriously, "that I had a wife who was starving, and that 1 came after your money to-night to save her life?" "Why, 1 should believe you," said Beckwith.

Loring smiled. "You're such a trusting old chap," he said. "That's why I ccainn — m a measure — throw myself upon your mercy. You could manage', 1 suppose, to arose the neighbors-— 1 would'nt exactly have the heart to shoot you." "if you put it that way, Tom," replied Beckwith, "1 must tell you that I've rung the burglar alarm at the head of my bed, and the police should be here now. I have merely been endeavoring to detain you until their arrival." This with an air of conscious cleverness that looked queerly out of place m conjunction with his usually frank and candid expression. "Exactly," returned the other, unmoved; "but your burglar alarm doesn't work, either. Don't you give me credit for any foresight at all i" Beckwith looked resigned and somewhat crestfallen.

"In t-that case," he said, "I shall have to buy -my wife another ring m the morning. But, anyway, Tommy, you could have got away. 1 shouldn't have appeared against you." "I believe you, Beck, of course. But, seriously, you shouldn't go trusting people as you do. It's bad policy. Now that maid of yours, for instance — 1 dare say you have given her innumerable opportunities of decamping with Mrs Becltwith's jewels." "She was such a good maid," objected * Beckwith, plaintively. i "Bhe might have been a good maid," answering Loring, "but she certainly Wasn't a good maid." \ "Tom," Beckwith said, suddenly, "I lon't know how you got into this, and I don't care; but why don't you get out cf it? Drop it all; it can't pay. I'll g\t you work to do if moneys what you w\nt. Perhaps there's a place m the baak, if you'd care to take it." loring looked at his friend admiringly. "You are, game," he said, "but I won't tak. advantage of you like that. Beside*, I like the life. It's an art, m a way, and you can follow it with all the wholesouled devotion you would give to any otVcr art. Aud, then, beyond everything, 5. need ei.-itoni£ri<-5-ttnd got it.''

Again there was silence. In the tiny room tho shaded lights glimmered through the thick blue ha/.o of smoke, like street lamps m a London fog. Suddenly on tho stillness there came a soft, shrill whistle. Loring rose ancl strolled over to tho window, drawing aside the curtain and peering out with his hand over his eyes.

"What's that?" asked Beckwith, start led.

"Probably your maid," answered Loring, "or my maid, rather. She was to let me know when the coast was clear, m case I couldn't get away before she did. She told mo that your butler had been watching her pretty closely. He's undoubtedly a good servant. You had better raise his wag»s." "I will," said Beckwith, "when he comes back. I let him go away for t-to-night. Oh ! I say, Tommy, did you know that, too? You are a clever chap." He looked at Loring with admiration m his eyes. "But — are you going now? I would like to see you again, Tommy. If your professional duties forbid a call by daylight, perhaps some other night — " Loring shrugged his* shoulders. "Not likely," he said, carelessly. "I'm leaving Leeds to-morrow — it's getting too small for me. I'm for London, with plenty of leisure, and, what is more to the pomt — plenty of cash." He spoke m a rather repressed,, yet exultant tone, that caused Beckwith to look at him sharply. "Are you quite sure that you will get safely away?" he asked. "What's to prevent me, for instance, from putting a description of you into the hands of the police and having the t-trains watched?" "Oh, you won't do that, Beck," answered Loring, gently. "At least, not when I tell you why I am really here. "Say on," said Beckwith. "Well, it's most unprofessional but I will. You see, I - belong to a small and select brotherhood whose object is — to put it with shocking frankness — the acquisition of other people's property, had designated you as a victim of their rather unkind attention, and somehow, Beck, just for the sake of old times, I didn't want'yoirto lose property, and perhaps life, by us. We are — most of us — rather desperate, and there is such a thing as an over zealous defense of even one's own possessions. Now, when it comes to shooting — well, I won't dwell .on it. It isn't pleasant." Beckwith moved his shoulders uncomfortably. "Not so very," he assented. • "And so I voluntered to come — told them I knew the house, or the dog, or something. They will think I've failed when I go back with only these. Besides, Beck, if some one else had come you would undoubtedly be parting with the valuables m your safe down stairs, of which you <are thinking at this moment with such flattering and hopeful calmness." Beckwith leaned forward with a sharp exclamation. "How the devil did you know t-that?" he cried. "Tricks of the trade," answered Loring, "and I'm sorry, but I'll have to take your purse. I can't go back absolutely empty handed." "Take it," said Beckwith, excitedly. "T-take my watch too." He dragged it from beneath the pillow and thrust it into Lining's hands. "Here — t-take everything I've got. It's uncommon good of you, Tom, t-to spare me as you have, I would not lose those jewels and that silver for anything I own." Loring dropped the articles into his capacious pocket. •"I must go now," he said. "I'm awfully obliged t-to you," answered Beckwith, "and you've increased my faith in — " "Don't talk so loud, please," Loring interrupted. "I'm going to raise the window."

He threw up the sash and looked cautiously out before preparing to descend. "Don't break, your neck," said Beckwith, m a loud whisper. "Goodnight Beck," Loring replied. He paused with one leg thrown over, the siU. "You've been very decent about it — quite philosophical, m fact. Sleep well the rest of the night, and — think of me m tho morning." He swung himself freo from the window, and m a moment Beckwith heard a soft thud as he dropped like a cat on the turf below.

Beckwith slept late next morning. He awoke to an unaccustomed stillness m the house, and there was no answer to his summoning bell. He had forgotten the absence of his butler. The events of the night came back to him, dim and dream like, and he realised their truth only when he thrust his hand under the pillow and groped m vain for his watch. Somewhat sleepy and very hungry he went down to the library, where he was wont to find the morning paper laid ready to his hand. He opened the door and paused, staring, upon the threshold. Chairs were pushed about m uncouth order; books and magazines, brushed hastily from tho table, lay m careless heaps upon the floor; and the little safe, its doors swinging wide, was empty. Beckwith stood and looked, his halfsmoked cigarette hanging limply from between his fingers ; then he walked slowly into the room and picked up one of the magazines. It, had been used to muffle the. sound of the blows, and was cut through with jagged holes from the steel chisel. With his fingers he followed mechanically the ragged edges of the mutilation.

So, he thought it was all a ruse; and while Loring had been discussing affairs with hirfi, his friends had been busy on the floor below.' The whistle, undoubtedly, had been a signal of successful departure. As he looked, and realised, a hurt sense of the injustice of it all came over him. If only Loring had not told hun that cock-and-bull story — if only he had not posed as a rescuer and friend ! He turned, finally, at the sound of a step behind him, and checked with a look his butler's horrified exclamation.

"Clear this up, he said, shortly, and waved an indicating cigarette. "Nofirst t-telephone the police. TeU them to look for a t-taU man with a jaw. I don't care about the others."

"And tell them," went on Beckwith, ignoring the . question, "to watch the London t-trains. He said he was going to town."