LADIES COLUMN.

Timaru Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 3382, 29 September 1900, Page 1 (Supplement)

LADIES COLUMN.

A LOGICAL THIEF. (By AGNES THOMAS.) I had come up to London from Bournemouth, and one thing and another had detained me in town; so I determined *o return to my little suburban retreat at Alperton for the night and travel back to the seaside on Mie morrow. It was nearly seven when I arrived opposite my little home. I had to pass it on my way to the general shop, where I had left; the door key for safe, keeping. I 'looked up at my bedroom- window, wflien to my horror and surprise I saw the curtains move, then tv long thin hand, ■\ man's hand, latched tttie window and disappeared. For a moment I felt frightened ; the evening was fast fading into darkness. My cottage ought to have been as I had left it two weeks ago, empty, and yet, unless my eyesight had played me some fanciful trick," there was a hand, and i'f a hand, as a natural sequence, a man. Ido not know what mad© me do it, if it was the outcome of Ifoo'lhardiness or courage, or extreme nervousness, or a mixture of all tfliree, but I marched to the front door and gave a rait-tat-tat that would have roused tthe seven sleepers. If it's a tliief he wild' bolt, I thought, and if — the door opened and a young man in his shirt sleeves stood before me. "Well?" said 'he, interrogatively. " WeK," said I feebly. " Do you want anybody?'' " Yes," I answered. "Is Miss Ohrishine Smythe at home?" ■' O yes, she expected you. Step in," and mechanically I stepped in. " Take a seat in the parlour," he said affably, and there I must apologise to any of my friends w^o read this. I, Christine Smythe, a woman noted for her strength of mind and immunity from feminine weaknesses, I, who had' always derided hysterical and fairtng women, well — I fainted. When I regained consciousness he was standing beside me with some brandy in one of my bes't wineglasses. "Drink a Ktt'le, it will do you good, Miss Smythe." i " You know my name?" "Yes. Now drink." I did so. " I wiH draiw the curtains an-d light the lamp, only don't y«u move or speak." He said the last lihree words in sudh a peculiar manner that I imagined- it better to obey him, but I thought I would give a tremendous scream if I could see anybody passing, and I looked out. olf the window. He had lit. .t!he lamp, and having drawn the curtains turned to me. " I shouldn't do that," he said. "Do what?" I asked. " Scream for help if you saw anybody pass the window. ,1 should have to " and he ■stopped and smiled pleasantly at me. " Have to what?" " Ever see a woman gagged, Miss Smythe?" " No," I answered. I felt quite a creepy sensation all over me. '' You will excuse my shirt sleeves, but I took off my coat when I was working about the house this afternoon." He sat down on tha_easy chair opposite me. He wasn't at all a bad-looking young man, in fact perhaps he was rather handsome, and then his eyes were so ingenuous, his manner so candid. " I suppose you are wondering who I am?" he said pleasantly. I looked round the room, and my accustomed eye missed my silver candle-sticks, my beautiful clock, my bronze statuettes ; even the. Persian hearthrug was rolled up and stood waiting in a corner. " Well," I said, '• I should think you were -' " I stopped. I was alone in a country cottage with a desperate criminal, and candour seemed strangely out of place. '" Go on," he remarked persuasively. " Remember that you are my guest, and that , you will be treated with all the deference and chivalry which your charming sex commands, that is, of course, as long as you don't scream." I did not like to say a burglar, besides, he was so unlike one ; and as tor calling h.m \ a thief, I couldn't, and so 1 compromised matters, and said, " I suppose you — are — • a — robber." " Now that is where you ara wrong, ef\tirelj wrong, and really I am surprised that a voting lady who is not the usual brainless • female— you will pardon the reflection on your sex— but who has written so clearly I and explicitly on the question of capital and 1 labour, and on the division of wealth, should 1 call me a, robber! Surely, Miss Smythe, the ' word is misplaced."^ ' I really felt quite ashamed. "It is not often," he continued, "that 'in the pursuit offlny profession I have the opportunity of a tete-a-lete w.th a charming authoress whoho books have given me sucli great plea- £ sure, and if you will allow me to make use 1 or the opportunity and converse with you, ' I should be obliged. Understand me, mar ; dam, Ido not insist. The few things that I havefthought worthy of collection are now mine, if not legally, at least morally. Shall : we exchange ideas?"' : Involuntarily my eye fell upon a little ! . vack in the comer of the room, peeping out r of the mouth of which I could discern tlie ' only piece of silver I possessed. I sighed. , ''Why. sigh?" he urged. "Surely a lady , endowed with so much philosophy as your- | self has a mind above the trivial exchanges , of everyday life ; or can it be that your books are only a sham ? Why, only lately f i charming little treatise of yours fell into my hands during a professional visit which I : paid one evening to tlie house of a well- ; known money-lender. It was entitled ' The i Inequality c-f Wealth,' a charming pami phlct, most logical, and so true." His cxi pressive eyes dwelt upon me with an admir- » ing glarhje. i I began to feel indignant, i "Surely," I remarked, with asperity, "having robbed me of my valuables, you can now spare me your brutal wit." , "O! madam, you pain me. But, with your permission, I will resume my coat." I made no response, but stared at him in my iciest manner. 1 "Then, madam," and, he put on his coat. 1 'without your permission. But there," he ' continued, " I am forgetting my duties as ' a host. Whilst inspecting the lower legions I discovered sis half-pint bottles of champagne. Three ha;ve gore I—tlie1 — tlie otilier three are here." 1 Ho placed two glasses on the tnble, . fetched .a: bottle from the sideboard, and continued :• " Unfortunately the nippers are downstairs. To'prooure them I should have to ;leave you. I could: not «be :so rude — ergo, we must have recourse to- the poker." He poured it out with a steady hand, nod I noticed, with. a paug, that two rinirs I had foolishly left upstairs decked his aristocratic fingers. "It is rather an inferior brand," he remarked, filling his own glass.". " Accept my apologies. Madam, may I have the, honour to. clink glasses with you?" (i I. tried to freeze him with a glance of supremo contempt. He looked at me re.prnacbfully. "Is it possible," he murmured, " that I am mistaken in you ; that your works, which I have studied with such delight and benefit to myself, are merely theoretical ; that, you, who have propoundi : i'd a-., schenre- perfect in ever}' detail,' a. • ;scbeme by which Dives should share equally • with the poorest, of his brethren bis ill-- ■, gotten riches, that you caonpt. rise superior to the annexation of a silver tea-pot or a I little useless bric-a-brac?" — and he contem- ! plated the empty mantelpiece and the ctei sertad'sideijiKiTd.' 1 . "Great heavens!" lie said, suddenly. i "Why, you must hike me for " arid , he stopped. •<' Do you?' 1 : ," Yes," I answered, promptly. ! •' '• "A thief or a burglar? 1 ' he" asked, i " Both," I replied. i " You misjudge me ; you do, indeed. ' You are very ]) iu d, very hard. The few ; ve'ars thul I have been in my profession I : have had many clients, but never yet. have 1 I- been called a thief.' He heaved a deep i sigh, and added, by way of explanation, ; "You are the first 'one I have met personally." He took out my little silver watch.

You left it on your dressing-table." he lid, suavely, in answer to my look of reag nit ion. \ "• I see I liavo half an ho.ur to spare, and ■will point out to you where you are mis*ken, and if you would like to embody my hart history *in a newspaper article, you ave my sanction," and he bowed graciousf. . . " With your permission I will take one if your essays as the text whereon U> ■hang ny sermon. The essay I refer to is enjtled ' Our Right to Live.' It is a charaing piece of work for a woman — logical, ilenr, and convincing. There is one pasage only to which I will refer. It is imwessed indelibly upon my memory." He ook np the poker, opened another botfly >f champagne, replenished the glasses, taink and proceeded. "The passage is his: — 'All men who can -work and who ivill -work have a right-, a divine right, to ive, not exist merely, tout to liv«. and to share freely in the world's superb abumluice.' Do you remember that excerpt?" I nodded assent. "Well," he continued, ''four years ago t was eighteen. I had just left Ruirby, when my father, who had occupied a hi(.'h position "as a buildins society director, passed unobtrusively away to another sphere, liabilities of an odd million or so. The widow and the orphan., frho Tiiined clergyman—in fact, all the imbecilic idiots who had lost all their saving?-- vented their r:ige upon me. I was flagellated by the press, cartooned by. the comic papers, and verbally assaulted at eveTV street corner, so I changed my name and disappeared. You would bo surprised at the difficulty a young man fresh from a public school experiences in obtaining employment. In fact, there is none for him. It was then I came across your little treatise." "It has only been written a year, ' I remarked triumphantly. x "Ah, well, someone must have anticipated yon. There are burglars in' the literary line, you know, and he smiled a«t me in a manner that made my blood 'boil. " Well, I determined to' embark in this profession, which 4s merely a question of subtraction and addition. For example, you have evidently a .watch too many. I have none. I subtract one from you, a rod add to my belongings. One woman, one watch. One "man, one watch. Mind you, it is mot a calling to suit a lazy man. I have had to work hard, especially during one three months. Well, I graduated by annexing coats. Then I took rooms in a fashionable locality, and was liberal with my patronage to West End •tradesmen. Then, in the language of the dramatic profession. I rested awhile, although I was not «t liberty. For the last, three years 1 have attaehH myself to this branch of the business. It seems to me so fair, and involves no hardship to anyone. I only visit unoccupied nouses; and when people go away to the Continent or the seaside they take all they want. What they leave they don't want: That's when I call." "You will excuse my interruption," I said. " You have stolen or thieved, or subtracted " — I was very emphatic— " all you want. Now please go." " Pardon me," he said, " but yoti mistake our positions. I am your host, you are my guest," he motioned me bacK. to my seat ; "and besides" — he stopped, and his ingenuous eyes gave an admiring glance at my diamond r'.ng, "we have more subtraction and addition." "Take it," I exclaimed. "You are. a paltry, low, pilfering thief." and I flung my lovely diamond ring on the carpet. "No, rather call me." said he gravely, "a picker up of unconsidered trifles," and my jewel went into his pocket. I had worked myself up into a furious passion, and sat trembling with rage and beating the devil's tattoo with my font. He put his arm on the empty mantelpiece ar.d looked down on me. " Ah, there is no real philosophy in women,' he said sadly. He looked at my watch again. "Well, I must go. O, by the way, were you going back to Bournemouth to-mor-row?" " Yes ; what has that to do with you':" " O, nothing, nothing, only it is most ridiculous of me. lam really most careless. You see, if you are going bock to Bournemouth, naturally you would go back by rail." I looked up at him. " Naturally you would buy your fare," he remarked, as if he were following out some abtruse train of reasoning, " and possibly you have money, and I daresay — now tell me if I am wrong —it is in a purse." I could not speak. 1 was dumb with rage. '• I must bo flunk with you. lam a little ihort now ; in fact, although I have a few things in that sack, they are not immediately negotiable, and you must see the aliMirdii'v of me offering a cabman a silver caudleslick for a fare. It would be undignified, would it not? I hate to trouble you," Mid he held out his hand. I gave it him. " You make my work so difficult ," he said, with a reproachful glance. ' 1 gave him my brooch. : "Shall we never understand e;u-h other? Allow me to unclasp it." The bracelet was gone. " And now, good-bye," lie mid, holding my hand reverently. " I have often thought of abandoning this particular line of the profession and embarking in a more recognised branch. Colleagues of mine tell me there are many openings in the City of London. a? a director or as un outride stockbroker or a company promoter. In that c;ts-;, Miss Smythe, it may Itc only "Au revoir." I trust I have treated you as a gentleman." "You are a contemptible, common thief, and low-clim burglar." "O, Miss Smythe, a low-cliimc burglar might havs kissed you." he K.iid, reflectively. I was speechless with honor. 'But not a gentleman," he continued, and shouldered his sack. "Now, Miss Smythe, 1 must either tie you in that chair aind gag you, i.r else you must give mo your word ih:<t you will not move or speak' for an hour." I gave it. The outer door slammed and I rushed franvticaliy to the -window. " Miss Smythe." "He hadn't gone at all. ™ "I am, so disappointed $i you. I am afraid therv is no honesty tin wimicn- no truth," he remarked, regretfully. "Sit down, and now .no nonsoiiM-, ' am) he gave me one ominoiiK lutik that made me quail aad cower before him. ~ He 'tied my hand* with a. piece of mite, and then quickly and deftly Becurtd me to tlie armchair, r , "I am going to gaij you with tlijk," he took a thick antimacassar. "It won'thurt you. 1 will see you are rehared in an hour." He finished his wuik and stool gazing at me with sorrow. " Ah, woman, inco distent wooicui, philosophy and logic sie impossible to you, and you called me a common burglar." He sighed sadly. " Well, peiliaps I am," and he ki^ed me on tho torclwad. i