"BRED IN THE BONE.”

South Canterbury Times, Issue 8228, 8 June 1895, Page 4

"BRED IN THE BONE.”

LITEBAfTHEE.

1 CONTINUED. 1 * You think he was ■ more initiative ?’ Guy asked with a somewhat nettled air. He hated to he thought less individual than Cyril. ‘ Of course he has, my dear boy, Nevitt answered smiling. ‘ He’d use the money at once, without a second’s hesitation.’

* But I haven’t got the money to use,’ Guy continued after a short pause. ‘ Cyril has, though,’ Nevitt responded with'a significant nod. Guy perused his boots, - but made no immediate answer. Nevitt wanted none just then ; he waited some seconds, humming all the l while an appropriate tune. Then he caught Guy’s eye again, and fixed him a second time. ‘ It’sapitywe don’t know Cyril s address 1 in Belgium,’ he said in a musing tone. ‘We might telegraph across for leave to use his money meanwhile. Remember, I’m just as deeply compromised as you, or even more so. It’s- a pity we should both be ruined, with six thousand pounds standing at this very moment to Cyril’s account at the London and West Country; But it can’t be helped. There’s no time to lose. The money must be paid in sharp by the evening.’ ‘By this eveningf Guy exclaimed starting up excitedly. Nevitt nodded assent. ‘ Yes, by this evening, of course,’ he answered unperturbed; * or we become ipso facto defaulters and bankrupts.’ That was a lie to be sure ; but it served his" purpose. Guy was a child at business, and believed any nonsense Guy' chose to foist upon him.

The journalist rose and paced the room twice or, thrice with a frantic air of unspeakable misery. ‘I shall lose my place at our bank, no doubt’ Nevitt went on in a resigned tone. ‘ But that doesn’t much matter. ‘Though a temporary loan—l could pay every penny in six weeks if I’d time—a temporary loan wouldset things all straight again.’ ‘ I wish to heaven Cyril was here,’ Guy exclaimed in piteous tones. ‘ He is, practically, when you are here,’ Nevitt Answered with a knowing smile. ‘ You can act as his deputy.’ ‘ HoW do you mean ?’ Guy asked turning round upon him. openmouthed:

Nevitt paused,and smiled sweetly. ‘ This is his cheque-book, I think,’ he replied in the oblique retort, picking it up and looking at it. He tore out a cheque, as if pensively and by accident ._ ‘ That’s a precious odd thing,’ he went on, ‘ that you showed me the other day; don’t you know, about your signature and Cyril’s being so absolutely identical.’ Guy gazed at him in horror. ‘ Oh, don’t talk about that ?’ he cried, running his hand through his hair. ‘ If I were even to entertain such an idea for a moment, my self-respect would be gone for ever.’ ‘ Exactly so,’ Nevitt put in, with a satirical smile. ‘ I said so just now. You’ve no initiative. Cyril wouldn’t be afraid. Knowing the interests at stake, he’d take a firm stand and act off-hand On his own discretion.

‘ Do you think so ?’ Guy faltered, in a hesitating .voice. Nevitt held him with his eye. ‘Do I think so ?’ he echoed, ‘ do I think so ? I know it. Look here Guy, you and Cyril are practically one. If Cyril were here we’d ask him at once to lend us the money. If we knew where Cyril was we’d telegraph across and get his leave like a bird. But us he isn’t here, and as we don’t know where he is, we must show some initiative ; we must act for once on our own responsibility, exactly as Cyril would. It’s only for six weeks. At the end of that time the unknown benefactor stumps up your share. You needn’t, even tell Cyril, if you don’t like, of this little transaction. See! here’s his cheque. You fill it in and sign it. Nobody can tell the signature isn’t Cyril’s. You take the money and release us both. In six weeks time you get your own share of the unnatural parent’s bribe. You pay it in to his credit, and not a living soul on earth but ourselves need ever be one pennny the wiser.’

Guy tried to look away, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Nevitt held him fixed with his penetrating graze. Guy moved uneasily. He felt as if he had i stiff neck, so hard was it to turn. Nevitt took a pen, and dipped it quick in the ink. ‘ Just as an-experiment;’ he said firmly, yet a coaxing voice, ‘sit down and sign. Let me see what it looks like. There. Write it just .here. Write ‘ Cyril Waring.’ ’ Guy sat down;as in a maze, and took the pen from his hand like an obedient schoolboy. For a second the pen trembled in his vacillating fingers; then he wrote on the cheque in a free and flowing hand, where the signature ought to be, his brother’s name. He wrote it without stopping. ‘ Capital! Capital!’ Nevitt cried in delight, looking over his shoulder. .‘lt’s a splendid facsimile! Now date and amountif you please. Six thousand pounds. It’s your own naturalhand after all. Ah, capital, capital!’ As he spoke, Guy framed the

fatal words like one dreaming or entranced, on the slip of paper before him. ‘ Pay Self or bearer Six Thousand Pounds [.£6,000] Cyril Waring,’ NevitU looked at it critically. ‘ That’ll do all right,’ he said, with his eye still fixed in between whiles on Guy’s bloodless face. Now the only one thing you have still left to do is, to take it to the bank and get it cashed instanter. Guy rose mechanically, and followed him to the door. Nevitt still held the forged cheque in his hand. Guy thought of it so to himself, in plain terms, as forgery. Yet somehow, he knew not why, he followed that sinister figure through the passage and down the stairs like one irresistibly and magnetically drawn forward. Why, he couldn’t let any one go forth upon the streets of London —with the cheque he himself had forged in his hands — unwatched and unshadowed. Nevitt called a cab ; and jumped in, and beckoned him. Gay, still as in a dream, jumped after him hastily. ‘ To the London and West Country bank, in Lombard Street,’ Nevitt called through the flap. At last, after a short drive, durwhich Guy’s head seemed to be swimming most dreamily, they reached the bank—that crowded bank in Lombard Street. Nevitt thrust the cheque boldly into his companion’s hand: (To be Continued)