Cuckoos.

Timaru Herald, Volume XIIC, Issue 13974, 7 August 1909, Page 1 (Supplement)

Cuckoos.

(Us- C. H. fiorill.)

Henry Gumbleton was a traveller in cement docks, a "line" in which business,,. though remunerative when it does tome along, is never what one could call really ' brisk.* If Henry gofc an order about every four years or so he reckoned he had done pretty Wjll.

It will readily be appreciated that, ■in the chronically-stagnant condition of the cement market, a conscientious traveller cannot afford to ignore . any chance," however remote, of effecting a sale. Hetiry—whose conscientiousness was so remarkable as to have earned for him amongst Ins. fellow-bagmen the sobriquet of "Ginger"—-thought nothing of posting at a moment's notice from one end of -the world to the other merely on the strength of a rumour that'they were badly off for cement docks, say, in Guatemala or 3X>bolsk.

Quite often. he would travel several thousands of miles with a view to selling cement docks, only to discover he ' had. been misinformed, and that what, the natives really required were clocks or socks. An ordinary man might have been disconcerted at finding he had taken so 'much trouble for nothing ; not so Henry -Gumbleton. He would quiet'y pack up his samples and start, for "home with the philosophical remark that it was far less serious to go toa place and find no business doing-there than to-find out afterwards that' there had been business doing in place and that he. had not gone •thtere; . - .... , • - This-untiring application to his duties raised Henry to a position of such eminence - amongst England's. commercial travellers that.ljefore-he was forty he found himself the father of one of •the largest- families. on the East Coast. I forgpt' liow many there were in it —so did Henry Sometimes:' indeed, it -was one of hiyfavourite mental re- -• - taxations- whilst dragging his bag of samples over the Steppes of Siberia or through'the valleys of Switzerland to ""try and recollect the correct Christian '-names and-'ages of; all his. children, - Tyhgp—trlnVh .» was not- often—ho pot the answer f hc used to S* ve " im " -sclE a handsome iprize. ■ - A' familv' of -such■ gratifying proportions could not, naturally,, be accommodated" in one.ordinary house. Henry " paid the rent of two residences—one r ' !» the wilds of Suffolk: a rambling edifice, the only distinguishing feature at .'.which was the. lopsided appearance it . presented owing to] .the constant acKli- ' tfoii of liew wings to the nursery: the - other a cosy Kttle "flat in Graspan Mansions, West Kensington. ' His wife ..and; -family occupied the (former; at the latter Henry .used to put up -whenever l bis "-.concerts took ; . him _to -London—he made a point- of seeing ' that they did the greatest possible, frequency.;. t ► For one reason, or another the cosy little 'flat, at' Graspan Mansions was •an institution,of ?which Mrs Gumbleton ' by -no means approved ; on- the rare ■t. -nw-arinut .Trhen she and her husband ■;Tmct she neyer failed to speak her mind • frealy-to him about' it. . ~ T ~ do you mean ?" she would <■ - ■•ns-lrl Tirm- qneruiously;-: *' by saying that ■ you '- : must' -'have 2 pomme-de-terre in ' London?"." - - - . - "-Pied-a-tcrre;- mv. .dear, cnirrcctea : Hienry ; gpntly.::: -.i- ■■ ' - . -"Pied-a-terre or pomme-de-terte, it's all tile same —it's French, i-was Gumbleton's uncompromising replv, uttered in a tone implying the r, as ixx-tbe * mo*- - 'anything which -had- to .be \«SprlsS&lJin;thafc language: "If yon - musfc K gtr .to'.London,. why, can't you ■' ; 'have ever kissed • a .chamber-maid ? fel?" ' ' . . ' vv'fßecausc 1 constitution is not strong enough' to stand tlie heavy drinking which' goes on at . such places;" was-his perfectly truthful reply. '" Also, I dislike-hottels-of any kind. The beds are always damp; and the • chambermaids are, as a rule, so de"'plorahly'plain that I' 'find it some what ■ trying to' conform to the . well-known custom of my 'calling-Jn the matter of kissing them." , . , ~ if Henry Gumbleton'." exclaimed his spouse,'■ almost 'petrified, with horror, ;- do" you - mean to tell me that you have ever -;bissed .a chambrmaid. •"Speaking in round numbers, and ■ neglecting all fractions," said Henry, casting' his njm<i over, a score of- iweltepent- years, on the road. I shouldsay, V have kissed not a cbam--berniaid ley& than fourteen thousand. Ho had i innocently given his wite these statistics .in the ho*>e that they would enable .her to realise some ot the hardships to which a commercial • traveller jvhd'has to make use of ho-tels-is'exposed; and how unreasonable it was of her to object to his haying a quiet little flat, to retire to, where ■" he 1 was not -required' to observe such - -exhausting • customs.:- . . • ; •/ , * Far other, however- was . the effect -produced on Mrs Gumbleton. .From that day forth she becan to entertain the. most- distressing doubts as to the conduct of her husband, who, in' reality, -carried - fidelity to a point : at whicli it almost ceased to be a .virtue. Her insinuations as to the probable purpose for which he Jouncl it necessary, to run a flat in London were at 'times quite -deplorably indelicate. She constantly threatened .that °ne of these fine days" sheviyould pay a surprise ; visit to this precious porome-de-terre —as she persisted in calling it». Thus—Heaven help Henry it her suspicions turned out to have any foirodation in fact! -•'.-, , ' Mrs. Gumbleton wa« not etil.v person to whom tlie No. 4 Gr.soin Mansions, was a source of vexation. Thomas Bmice. the hnll-jjorter an' house-keeper at tJm •Mansions. »*<** sometimes to go aHiost mad with annoyance about, Henry's. i.u'hrn'U-d views on tilt* filiation of sublcttnnc. Thongli he might be «oing i>n a voyaee to T< ami though P°op!e were calling all day long ."t the Mansions, crying to be allowed to occnoy No. 4—if it were only for a fortnight Honrv would have none' of it. "No* Bunce," answered the traveller in \-ement docks firmly when one <lav, iust as be was settmsi out for Buenos Avrcs. the liall-{»orter cauie to him with a more than usnndy tonmting offer for a short "let : "T decline to have peonle wearing out iny furniture and messing my things about during my absence——so there san end | know* hest. of ! course,"'said Bunce regretfully. " B"t it do seem a pity the place should stand vaeint anting its | ,C C" off, so to speak. Come. now. sir, he pleaded, thinking longingly of the very handsome bonus the would-be tenants had promised him if he cur /? them the place for a month. \\on fc you think better of it? The parties are only asking to take the flat for four weeks; and if yon re going all the way to South Ameriky you can t possibly be back for another three months at least." "'That will do. Bunce," was Henry s obstinate rejoinder. "If I w T or '- ,l coming back for three years 1 should not letthe flat. "Understand that And remember —-whenever it. may be that T return—l shall expect to find the place ready for me." ' " Yerv good, sir," said Bunce meekly, sending up to Heaven a _ prayer, none the less fervent for being unepoken, that the dietary scale of some

deserving shark miglifc ho improved during Mr Gumbleton's outward voyage. "Hope you will liave a pleasant journey, sir, and como back safo and well."

When Henry had driven off Bunco repaired to his owu quarters and gave Mrs Bmice his opinions at some length on the subject of dogs-in-tlie-manger.

'' I never see such a feller in all my born days," he growled crustily. "There 'e is—off to South Ameriky—can't possibly be back for another six months —and won't allow the flflat to be let for five minutes. Ai for me losing a tenner —to say nothing of tips—by 'is rotten, measly behaviour, why, the beggar don't care that!" "That" was certainly a more startling expression of indifference than the snap of the fingers more usually employed for the purpose; but Mrs Bunco, instead of admiring the terse vigour of her husband's descriptivo style, exclaimed angrily: '"Well, bless my soul! You needn't put the fire out even if you are a bit annoyed! This ain't a tramcar, you 'know, for you to go expecting all over the place. If ■ you're so blessed anxious to let the flat, why don't you .et it —and be 'anged to Gumbleton ? 'Ow's 'e to know anything if he's out in South Ameriky ? None of 'is people don't never come 'ere, and 'e don't 'are nothing to say to the neighbours. . . ' Now it so happened that Henry Gumbleton never got even half-way to South Ameriky. When _ the boat on which he was voyaging put in at the Canaries he made the pleasing discovery that there was quite a famine in cement docks in those islands, and that a new supply was badly wanted at once. In less than a week he had got ■ rid of enough. cement docks to make; it unnecessary for him to do. any work' for another five years to come ; so he gave away his sample-bag and ' took the very next steamer back to England. • ..

"Hence it-'was that Henry Gumbleton found himself in London again, a full three months sooner than be had expected. ■ As lie drove light-heartedly towards Graspan Mansions -he could not help congratulating himself on the perspicacity he had • 'shown in . refusing Bunco's insidious temptations to sublet. "If I had listened to that idiot," he said to himself, " I should have' had to spend to-niglit miserably at • some beastly "hotel or else go down to Suffolk; instead of knowing, as I do now, that there" is "a. comfortable night's rest before me in my oivii cosy little .nest."He had sent no warning telegram to Bunce to make for hist arrival; Henry never - did that. As he very rightlv said, the essence of a. properljconducted pied-a-terre is that it should be ready at all'times for the occupation of its owner, whether lie returned after an absence of two hours or two years.

Bunce hadstrict orders to keep the flat always in that condition,- and, to'do him-justice he obeyed, them with scrupulous-fidelity. Though lie never mentioned the' fact to Henry -r-r Bunce ' was a modest - iellow, not at all given to drawing attention to, his own meri its—the good creature'used even, to-go : the length of airing -Henry's shirts and sheets on his own. back and bed respectively, rather-than that' his employer should be exposed to the risks attends ant on the using- of damp linen: ■ ...The careful way, too,- in which Bunce watched over the wine'and spirit cellar, con- ■ stantly tasting the. 'contents ot the various bottles/-and -unhesitatingly condemning' any- which, - in his judgment,showed the least symptoms -ot spoiling, proved that he possessed-a sensa ot duty very much above'.the .ordinary,..; -,. . "By- the'time Henry arrived, at Graspan Mansions. it wasMiearly midnight. Ho had to let f himself in .the street door, for the faithful Bunce was in the habit mi^retiriMgwto-resfc-—in., -aii. .adjac? dnt saloo"n-bar—at -ten sharp, and • the. landlord-of: nfcher Mansions; considerate man, did not impose-upon his tenants, when they : came home late, the additional weariness of having to wake up a night-porter: .-.- " Htnry closed' the street door carefully behind liim. l " Then, after.-'listen-ing with polite attention to a.,short,. but stirring -valedictory address...-dehv r . ered through the letter box by the cabman from whom he had just -parted, he took himself up in the lift to the fourth- floor. ' ' ■- ••'- . ' Certainly, jßunce was an excellent fel- • low, Henry .told himself-, as he turned up the light in his little hall' and .had a look round. • coiild naVe imagined that'-the flat had not been lived in for more than two months. The f.urniture was. dusted, thcxarpet swept. When Henry went into the dining-room, there, on the table, stood the decanter , of. whisky with s its attendant syphon, just as if the master'of the house had. been, expected home that ; night at his usual time: ;This was the proper way. to do things.; Bunce was a treasure and should have his due reward in the morning. ; . } 1 ; - After mixing - himself a'- very useful drink, Henry began to tliink. that it was about time, for bed. Really, he felt ver>- tired—so tired, indeed, that he found the effort of trying to remember in what part, of; tlie world he had picked up a noisome-looking sombrero he had noticed on the liatstand when lie came in altogether too much for t him.-* He tried the thing on, to see if that' would assist recollection. Tlie l hat proved' to he. so niucli too large I that he came to the conclusion lie must | havo bought it on the morning t'ollowi ing a- grand ceremonial -night at one - of "the numerous foreign masonic lodges of which he was a member. After lie had gone into the little dressing-room, and was exchanging his travel-stained clothes for one of the brilliant sleeping-suits he affected when in London —so very different from the drab, unemotional pyjamas 111 which lie sought the connubial couch down in Suffolk —Henrv found himself confronted bv another exercise in mnemonics. From which of his wanderings had he returned' laden with that somewhat bizarre' pair of trousers lie saw hanging to a hook at the side of the wardrobe.-' He could not for the life of him remember. All he could make up his mind to was that they did not strike him as the sort of trousers in which he should altogether fancy himself now. No—not by any means. That uas the worst of going about the world so much; necessity compelled one at times to purchase clothes which were but illadapted for wear in" England Lnglisli people were so peculiar about clothes. Trousers of so exclusive a pattern as those on the hook—though they be the dermier cri in the Quartier Latin—would probably be considered a case for the police here in London Tired as he was, Henry could notresist "wlie temptation to take them down froni the hook and try them on —just to see how he looked in them. Droll! There was not a doubt ot it! verv droll! "There would be a future for me on 'the halls' in this he muttered to himself, as lie studied the effect produced by the combination ot tho pink pvjama jacket with those wonderful leg-veils. ", It . * C f seeu heaps of comedians not half so funny as these trousers," he went on, as he got under the dressing-table to teel for a pair of bedroom slippers. "(l,cttin" their fifty a week too Hullo! What's that?" He ran out into the corridor and found himself face to face with a big handsome woman, who evidently had her own notions as to what constituted a suitable costume for an call. Kenry, indeed, accustomed to tlie somewhat uninspired night-attire ■ of Mrs Gumbleton. was absolutely taken aback. For a moment or two ho and the unkupwn lady looked at one another

with an expression en their faces such as might have been worn by the poet Keats after his lirst dip into Cnapman's perfectly useless crilj to Humer. Then the lady hroko the silence by giving a very good imitation of an express train just about to enter af tunnel.

" I should like to know what you aret doing in my Hat, madam," as>Ked Henry with pardonable curiosity, after satisfying himself that the .drum of his ear was not, as he had at lirst feared, permanently injured. The lady's explanation was a long one, and no doubt very clear and convincing. Unfortunately, it was delivered in a language with which Henry was not familiar, so he shook his head uncouiprehendingly. The lady repeated her remarks, adding one or two new ones which occurred to her as she went along. Then, seeing that Henry still seemed very fairly well pleased with himself, she asked interrogatively: "You no, understand Spanish?"

Henry roused himself with a start. "Were you speaking Spanish? I beg your pardon. I thought it was shorthand. No —I do not tmderstand Spanish—at least, not when it is spoken so quickly," The situation was really rather embarrassing. Henry could repeat fluently, " You ought to have cement docks." "No home is complete without a cement dock"; " I'have the best cement docks in the market" in Spanish, or,, indeed, in any other known language. Outside these few simple phrases and one or two others bearing on the prices of liquid refreshment in. various . parts, of the world, he. was, however, not much of a linguist. .. .' - ' "Then," said the-lady with the air of one making a great painful concession, "I will spik Inglis." While she paused, as if to marshal a mighty linguistic array, .Henry," whose ..memory was really haying a very- worrying time of it this evening, tried hard to remember where he had seen her face before. It was quite familiar to him; but in what connec-

tiori? Suddenly, in a flash, it came to him; His fair visitor was none other than Senora Segrada, the celebrated exponent of» the Salome dance, '.Spanish variety!. It was not to be wondered that he hod failed to recognise her in her robe-ne-riuit. Hitherto : hehad seen her only oil the stage, where she was not' in the habit of wearing •anything'-like so many clothes.

" What you do." asked the Senora in awful tones, my 'usband's t-r-r-r-ousers ?"■ ' . . ■ , " Are these your husband's?" asked Henry cheerfully, looking down at them. "I'm so glad to hear it." / It really was a'relief to learn that, he was not - responsible for having-, .-.selected such fearsome garments.

" Yes,'-' - said the senora; eyeing . the trousers - with an • expression as sad as if she were contemplating a cathedral converted - b.v gross - Vandals into a' ■ furniture o-epository,; " tilien my. 'usband's. What will- he say;if come and see you so?"

It was a-difficult; question to ; answer.- ■-

" I don't know, I'm sure," - answered Henry,, trying hard to be bright and intelligent. " Perhaps lie will ask you if you' have made sure .that the. ferns have proper roots?" ■ "My 'usband," s'aid the Senora 'impressively. "Xdusco. Yon know c'em?" ■ Henry knew him very well.'/ Xdu.sco —Or the Galician Giant, as- lie was calle'd by. those who, found his propef surname a littlo ; difficult of acliievejneiit—had quite a .position amongst-itlie .--eight- —ihousaiijl'----undis-puted v wrestling, champions of- -. the world. -'"FTc" was a very large - man; in fact, about tlie largest size of man they make. -■

- "I. expec'- 'eepi fome, 'very nnnute," tllei sftnora/ went on-jsignificantly,: looking contemptuously at 'Henry mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. She thought he was removing- beads of..- terror, from his. brow ; but as a matter of fact lie. was only drying himself after the shower-bath 'to - which anybody within, hearing is subjected when the name' of Xdusco sis properly pronounced. - . - "Then you'd lietter pop off quick," said - Henry.., "It?s very , good of you t-o have called,- but I can't think of detaining you. Your husband might bo vexed if you were not in whenhe got home." ■ . ■ "'Omc; is 'cere!"- flashed - flu l Senora, stamping her foot. "This our flat. 'We have it took b.v month."

'.'What!" shouted Henrv, starting back in astonishment. The- S"nora seized his arm, and with a world of meaning in- her glance demanded insistently: -

" Wbht'my''usband will tink if.-'ee come 'ome and you find?" "I expect-lie' l ! think I've called for the rent," "replied Henry, speaking mo'rei hopefully than' he felt. "No," replied the Senora, shaking her head sadly. " "Ee will tink wor-r-st. And —'ee kill you." MAh, come, I exnect von are taking rather a Pessimistic view of the situation." said Henry, trving to be as. consolatory as he sure you will be. all righ+. Perhap l ' our presence here uiav stril'o liii-i as a little ' od'l at first, but when I explain-^—" ' "Explain! No time you h"ve to explain!": r interrupted the Senora. "'Eo so 'f»alous 'ee ro' listen .until you dead, and then, too late."

• '"Triie," agreed Henrv, coming reluctantly' to the conclusion that_ f r Xdusco nmvt be a very undesirable alien, whose acquaintance, if an attempt were made to thrust it upon him, he would be well advised to dc-li/ic. With the laudible object apparently of making it quite clear exactly what manner of man her husband was the Senora proceeded:

"jf 'ee come home and you find, jt will be like thees

A verbal description of tlic probaljle scene being beyond her limited powers of English, the senora had recourse to pantomime; and for- five minutes or more Henry enjoyed a very pleasing representation! in dumb show" of the pathetic circumstances attending his own early and violent death. At the most interesting point in the performance there was a tiresome interruption. The bell of the flat began to ring. "My 'usbandcried the Senora, turning as white as her complexion would allow. " Dois! AVhat we do ? "Excuse me," said Henry hastily.' '"I just remember that I have left a most important paper under the bed in the dressing-room. I really must get it at once, or I shall forget.' ' "No good!" wailed the Senora, laying a detaining arm 011 his arm. so jealous—'Ee always look under all beds directly 'ee come in. Let 111 c tink . Let me tink!" "I hope you are not trying to think in Spanish?" asked Henry anxiously after a minute or so had gone by without any helpful suggestion emanating from the Senora. "Yon must go out of flat immceately, without my 'usband seeing you, insisted tlio Senora.

"Henry, though he did think it a little hard that lie should have to turn out of bis own comfortable home at that time of night, could not find it in his heart to oppose the .suggestion. The only question was —how was lie to withdraw gracefully? The stairs scarcely commended themselves at the moment, in view of the sort of people with whoni be might have to mix on the way down.

Fortunately, tlie woman's wit of the fair Spaniard provided a solution of the difficulty. She dragged Henry towards a window that opened oil to the back of tlio Mansions, and throwing this up she cried triumphantly: "There your chance —fly!' ' Henry looked out a little doubtfully. The nearest terra iirmu was quite fifty feet below. -

" Yes," he said slowly and thoughtfully, "that does seem the only way.' Unfortunately, 1 am rather an indifferent aviator."

The Senora stamped her foot impatiently, and drew liis attention to a! tradesman's liandlift that ran just outside the window. v

"See!" slie cried, pointing to this', flimsy contraption, obviously designed to carry nothing much heavier than a leg of. mutton. "In thees you able go down very, very queeck!" That seemed likely enough; and vet Henry still hesitated. The ringing at the bell had by this time become so persistent as to incline him to the belief that the person at the other end of tlie wire was in a state of some slight irritation. Henry put out one leg cautiously and then hastily drew it back again. ' , "B-r-r-r!" he shivered. "It's too cold!"

The fair Spaniard hastened to assure him that though it might be a little too cold outside, it was quite certain that lie would find it a great deal too hot if he remained inside; and gave him his choice of temperatures. The vigorous Triple Bob Major which the unseen bell-ringer was at that moment performing decided Henry. '."l'm sure I shall get an awful chill going out dressed like this,: 'he murmured plaintively, as he clambered gingerly out on' to the window-ledgtf. " Can't I have a hat?" , i The Senora ran to the.hat-stand and, taking the horrible-looking sombrero off its peg, clapped it.oil to Henry's head. ' " Go—^-go!" slie; murmured imploringly. [f X keep.my 'usband w.aiting anv longer 'ee suspect." ' The little lift creaked so ominously ~ when he imposed the full burden of his weight upon it that Henry, made a hasty attempt to clamber back to , the kitchen: a monoeuvre which the Senora" frustrated by ' quickly shutting the window down in liis face.. ] There was now no help for it! | Squatting down in the little lift, anci,| looking'W all the world like lete.r Pan in the birds' nest boat, Henry ber | gan liis p'erilous descent. As he slowv , ly lowered • himself,, clinging with desperate caution ■ tp- the stay-rope, he .formed tlie opinion that since tlie days of Job no •• mortal- man, had; ever been put upon to quite the same exteiit, as. lie was being at that moment. • lo be compelled to make, a surreptitious escape, at the peril of his life, from his own warm little nest, at tlie. bidding pi alt imperfectly clad she-cuckoo—oil > ..it. was monstrous! If lie lived; to reach the ground^ —wjiiclv was extremely pi oblematical that scoundrel, , Bunce, should cei-tainly 'join, the ranks of tlie. unemployed to-morrow morning. Somehow .'or other Henry managed, to- get to . earth'safely, though the last ten feet' or so of tlio descent were taken rather more accelerando than he had quite intended. On looking about him lie noted with satisfaction that •. there was nobody to be seen in , the. quiet little street at the, back ; of the Mansions. It was his intention -. to make his way unostentatiously < t{) .the... front-door • and tlitn ring up the vil ;unous Bunce and compel liim to find a, lodging. . , As. lie crept along, keeping as much; as lib'ssible in the. shadow of the _wall, . He'nrv became- suddenly aware ui the annoying - fact that a policeman: coming, round the corner. . 'i his was, liasty" complication :: Obtuse though Metropolitan police-constable, might be, he ; was' liot likely to meet anybody clad as Henry was at that moment without wanting to ask questions and make futile entries in, that absurd notebook of his. . ■ . ~ ... A bright idea for keepuig tlie i>ohceina.ii occupied wliilst lie liinise]f "\veiiy round to interview, the hali-porter denly came into Henry's mind. AMnj?ping v the loathsome sombrero ofl ' his head; lie held it to the ground ,as ir imprisoning some object of value beneath its capacious brim. - : • " 'UHo! What game are you after , demanded the constable, suspiciously, as he came uji to where Henry ( was bending, with an ■ affectation of great solicitude, pver the liat. , ' " I'm not after game at all, replied Henry coldly. " I'm, after my canary." ' . • ~. .••:"*'Ere,- no larks,' said .. the. con-stable-gruffly: . : He was comparatively uew.vto tlio Force, and rather .vague as to; what his precise duties might be -in the present novel situation. ~ , • " Oh, no, no: larks at all! ■ replied Henry pleasantly. 1 Just one little canarv, that's all. - I had a rare chase after "liim before I managed to cliucK this hat over liim. ~ , , , •-. " Oh, you've got l nil under that • at, 'ave you ?" snittea the ; policeman. " Well, just you pack 'im Tip and take 'im'-'ome quicks . We can't you walkin' about the streets .in those clothes, you know."" . : . ■ " I can't take him home m the hat, protested Henry in a tone which implied pained surprise at the constable s ignorance of the customs ancl canaries. " I might, pnicli the pool little beggar's epiglottis, then _lie d never be able to sing anothei note. Now 1 wonder if you would very kuidly give me a little help,in my difficulty. 1 should be pleased, to make it worth your while if you would. . . u "'What do you want me to do, sir, asked the constable, changing his tone with remarkable promptitude at tins prospect of an addition to his weekly this hat on the gr < )inid—vx-i-ycareulbv so that the bird doesn t I just nip round to my flat to Ins ca that would be very helpful indeed," Henry said, looking obliquely at the man in blue. I The constable knelt down on the pavement and grasped the bran of the S °"J l " believe I can, feel him stirring, sir," he said, looking up "I daresay," was the reply Uou t move the hat on any account or lie 1 make another dasli /or reec oin He is a most deternuned little bcggai. At that moment a hansom came round the corner at a leisurely tiot, and its occupant, at the ,unusual, sight of a police-constable kneeling on the ground and taking instructions from a gentleman in pyjamas, signalled to the driver to stop. "What is the asked a deep, foreign-sounding voice from the j dark'depths of the cab. M "Nothing. sir, nothing, a little perturbed at being discovered m a , position so much at variance «i "Gentleman's pet canary escaed, normal ponderous perpendicul.u itj. that's all. I'm watching it ere 10. 'im while 'e goes 'ome and gets its ° Oh. dear me!" said the forcigusounding voice. "How vc -'>y '°. 1 ! 10 j t ing to have to be out- m the cold in such thin clothes. Perhaps, he added politely to Henry, ' you ■» ill i >Ll " mit that 1 drive you to your house to uet the cage?" . "No, really, 1 couldn't .think ol troubling you so late at mered Henry awkwardly. Iliese foieigners were really a great deal too sociable and polite. £< No troliblo at all, sir, M'as the hearty reply. "Charmed to be of service. Please io get in." "Yes, jump in, sir, jump ill!"' ur-

ged the kneeling policeman, as he noticed Henry hesitate. "I don't want to be down here oil my marrow bones all might,, you know. And. you drive quick, cabby," he added. "All right—where to?" asked the cabman querulously. There was a moment's painful pause. Henry was considering whether it would be wiser tot give a true or a false address. He finally: decided' that prevarication might be dangerous, so in a clear voice he said to the cabman: "'No. 4, Graspan Mansions, please." "Whore?" repeated the foreign sounding voice in surprised tones. "Have you not made some little mistake? Surely you did not say 4, Graspan Mansions?" " Pardon me," replied Henry stiffly, having observed out of tlie corner of liis eye that the. policeman was pricking up his ears'suspiciously. " I certainly did say 4, Graspan Mansions. I have just come from there."

"What!" roared the other in a terrible voice, leaping out of the cab as lie spoke. " You say you liave just come in that neglige from the house where not two hours ago I leave my beautiful wife all" alone. Dios!" lie roared again, as lie got a better view of Henry's ensemble, "it is true! Miserable! You have got on my trouser!" ",'Ullo!" said the constable, feeling hastily wjtli his disengaged hand for liis notebook, " I must see into this." " Carramba !" exclaimed the Galacian Giant, as the terrified Henry now only too plainly perceived him to be, " leave this scoundrel- to me, constable ! I will deal wis . liim! I will teach him to make love to my beautiful wife, and then make oft vis my expensive trouser!" Seizing Henry by so much of _the ■ expensive trouser as lie could get into pne of his colossal hands, the Galacian Giant flung liim as if he had been a : Gladstone bag into the cab. Then, leaping in after him, he rqared to tlie driver: ' : " Gaspan Mansions—at vonce ! It seemed but a moment 1 to Henry before he found himself outside the ' door of his-own flat, shuddering, in the grasp of his gigantic captor. As Mr Xdusco felt for liis latchkey, Henry became dimly aware .of the tact that a considerable hubbub was , already hi progress within the flat. . Tlio Senoras quick-firing voice could be heard discharging volleys of abuse at some .unseen adversary. . ■ . v As they entered the hall the Senoia leapt out of the drawing-room like a tiger-cat and confronted her liusbanu. ; -•"•Miserable dog!" she screamed, shaking her clenched fist 111, his face. < "'So—i liave discovered all at last. " Away, Jezebel!" bellowed back her liusbaiidy not to. be yutdone when it came to bandying" terms or endearment. *■lt ■is not, you, . but -1,-, W 'have discovered all! Behold!" He jerked the wretched Hen>-y into view. Explain this, if you. can!" ■. ... .• - " Bali! , Tliat is nothings! snorted, the fair Spauiurd. "I explain with, pleasure, when you...first have explain to mo how, when you married,. une, you said nothings about have wife alYou are mad, woman! What/ do you mean i*- u T as her husband s reply. He had . had a fairly busy past,-but could not definitely remember .anything in-the nature of a previous iwife in it. "To-night, vile deceiver!" said hi* ■wife, fixing him with .a isteelyeye, . I hear •furious ringing . s,'t. >treet-beli. Thinking- it you, that j?su have lorgot your kety, I go down. -..1t is no you '[ see standing at door, but a vi omaii, who tells ,me in English' .■ &he ■. tjiought, as much; that she has long suspected her-- husband -of having wliat she. .califs, a—-'-I cannot it this flat and fcliatj' t'ank goodness, she has.; found you out at last. Noiv, what do you say?" . .. '"ft - k all a' lie. assorted dir.Xdusco- stoutly. , While his wife had been talking lie had been quickly running! over • the; principal events, in .his life-historv. , He now felt fairly confident' that the lady sneaking to him was the only woman he had ever actually led to the altar. "Show me this woman !" he demandetd : fiercely.. The Senora:'flung open tlie drawing-, room -door. , Yi ■Within the room Henry Gumblqtpit saw a sight which made liis weary eyes almost start out. of his head. Mrs, Gumbleton rose, grasping her large, umbrella--very firmly, and advancing, menacingly towards her husband. ''l told' von I should pay a surprise •visit one of these days to this precious Hat of yours, Henry," she said; "and now I've done it. I. knew I. should find a .woman; here—l knew it! Now, what have you and this shameless hussy"—waving her umbrella in the Senora's face—got to. say for ,youiselves?" , ... ''That" —as Henry afterwards remarked when recounting the happenings of the night to his chum, Angus MacSpille'r, a mucli-respei-ted traveller, in the potted liaggis "line" —"thatiust about put the tin hat on my troubles. I assure you daylight -vvas coming through the windows before Id, n ?? ? that blinking, wrestler understa.nd that I wasn't after his wife, and made his wife understand that her. -.husband wasn't secretly mai'ried to my wire.' As for making my wife understand /any-., thirig, I soon gave up trvmg tliat She was in such a state of mind about her first journey to London, and what, she thought she had discovered nt -tlie end of it, that she wasn t capable of understanding anything. In tact, to this hour -he doesn't, seem auiteto have got her proper bearings in the matter. If I up the;flat at "the quarter-day I do honestly lieve she would have sued for a divoice. "What did I do -to Bunco. Ah, Mac, , that was one of the rca^J )l * tP T disappointments of my life. went down to have a cosy littlecat with Bunco, the next morning I. fnuml he'd invested the twenty-five pounds the wrestler and his wife rent in advance in a ticket foi Amci