A CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE

Taranaki Daily News, 17 December 1926, Page 16 (Supplement)

A CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE

BY IVOR NOVELLO. . Some years ago I happened to,be in Paris St Christmas. It was rather dreary being away from home, and I remember I felt pretty, blue, when to my immense relief three young student friends looked in and suggested a parly in the Montmartre.' ' “You must dress up for it, of course,” they explained, rather critically, looking over my sombre, respectable evening clothes. Without ceremony I was bundled into a wailing taxi, add quickly whirled to the studio of one of my friends, where 'my suit was hastily changed fo'r a pair of wide corduroy trousers and a velvet jacket. A brilliant neckerchief took the place of my sober white collar and tie. Then we were off. I got my first thrill as wo entered a big old house in an obscure street, and the dimly lit, obscure stone started feeling our way down stairs to i: deep cellar. My friends let mo walk ahead, and, rather maliciously I thought, I heard them giggle now and again. On the very last step I gave a jump, relieved at last to be or level ground; but the jump ended in a little shriek. I’m ashamed to say—for the floor instantly gave way under me I I did not fall far, however. This practical joke is a feature of the dancing hall to which my friends had taken me. The cellar fs really a converted dungeon, and the trap-door at the foot of the stairs was at one time actually used for luckless prisoners who happened to fall Into the clutches of the man who owned the place. That was hundreds of years ago. of course. Nowadays, the trap drops only a few inches, to give newcomers the kind of shock that I received. The night proved one of the happiest I have ever spent. An exquisitely beautiful lady, who, like myself, was there for a “lark,” did me the honour to dance with m; on several occasions. I have never seen her since; but it has come to my knowledge that she moves in the highest social circles. Can it be wondered that, when I came to write my first play, my memory went back Io that happy evening in the Montmartre, and I gave it a permanent record?