LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5563, 10 March 1886, Page 1

LITERATURE.

■AS' GOOD A 8 CANCELLED. } (Concluded.) j "After the man left tho room there was < beard a dull, heavy thud, as though he had ' ■fallen full length in the passage. The policeman hurrying out to see, discovered that Buch was the case. The poor fellow Tiad ruptured a blood vessel, and was evidently in Buch a bad way that it was deemocl prudent to despatch him to the nearest hospital with all speed. His condition when he arrived there was so critical that it waa at first feared that recovery was hopfeleas. Under skilful treatment, ' however, he rallied, aud in a few houra was able to speak, though in but a feeble voice. " I have been J pretty close to kicking the buckeb, haven't j I, doctor ? " he remarked. He waa in- j formed that such was the case, and that he j was by no means out of danger yet. "By that I suppose you mean that I am booked. Tell me if it is bo. It doesn't matter. ! I'd as lief it was that way as 'tother. Only I I wish to know." The reply to this was that it was difficult to pronounce with certainty, but. that if the patient wished to see any friend or relative, it would be as well not to delay sending for them. "I hav'n't a friend in the world," the sick man replied forlornly. Being Bcant of breath here he paused awhile, and a grim smile brightened his wan face ere he continued, "and I hav'n't an enemy. I had only one, and him I've seen the last of. I heard 'era saying in the inquest room that they never saw a dead man with such a frightened face. No ■wonder, — — him ! Drowning was too good for him J" " Are you speaking now," asked the amazed doctor, " of the man to save whose life you made such a brave endeavour P" '"I am speaking of the man, air," replied the invalid, "who struggled with me, and struck me in the river. I had no thought of saving him. This iB no time for me to tell lies. I sprang after him aa a dog springs at a rat. I wanted to get hold of him, that's all. He knew it, and he knew why. That's one comfort ! I could see plainly enough in his eyes what his thoughts were. He thought I meant gripping hold of him to drown him, and that is why he beat me off. He was mistaken. I'd rather have dragged him ashore, and come to a reckoning there. But it doesn't matter now." "Of whom are you speaking ?" "Of Peter Clint, the man they held the inquest on." " You knew him, then P" *' He was my deadly enemy, sir— the bane and curse of my existence. But for him, instead of being branded with infamy — a convict at liberty only on sufferance, by ticket of leave — I might have been respected and prosperous, and my poor Bister been alive. Clint was the man who killed her, sir. "We were fellow clerks in the Bame firm, holding good positions, earning a clear £120 each, and with a fair prospect •of doing better. I had known him for .years. I lived at home with my mother ■and sister, and when my mother died my sister kept house, and Clint, my friend, •came as a lodger with us. Up to that time lie had always seemed to be honest and straightforward, and I never dreamt he was going wrong. He had a pleasant manner and was good-looking, and my sister, who was younger than me, soon had a liking for him and him for her. It was not until he had been with us four months that I was made aware that his affaira were not as they Bhould have been. It was he who told me. He come home late one night, and he came to me in my bedroom in a terrible state of mind, to beg of me to help him. For many months past, as he then informed me, he had been mixed up with horse-racing and card-playing, and had lately been dreadfully unlucky. Not only was he in debt, but he had tempted to make free with twenty pounds belonging to the firm, and which he hoped would not be inquired for for several weeks to come. He found himself, however, unexpectedly called on to produce it the next morning. He was aware that I had some money saved, and he said that he depended on me, as his only friend, not only to lend him the amount in question to save him from ruin, but to keep his secret as well. I thought immediately of my sister, and of the increasing intimacy there had been between them lately. ' There is one person,' I Baid, ' who must bo held harmless in this, and that ia my sister Margaret.' ' How, harmless ? ' he asked. 'The friendship that exists between you inußt at once cease/ I made answer. ' I should be a villain if I allowed it to continue, knowing what I now know/ He grew angry at that, and told me that that was no affair of mine, and I had best not interfere in it. 'In that case,* said I, ' since she shall not be betrayed into doing perhaps what she may regret as long as she lives, it will be better for you to tell her what you hare told me, and leave it to her to decide/ I ought to have judged from the look he gave me then what he was capable of. But he kept the dovil within him down, and apologised. ' Only save me, Ralph, and I will obey you in everything.'. So I gave him the money. I had sixty pounds in five pound Bank of England notes. I took them from a box and gave him four of thorn, and running my finger over the remaining ones, remarked, ' That leaves me with forty pounds, and it is all the money I am worth m the world/ • You have taken the numbers carefully enough, I'll warrant/ he remarked, ' in case you should bo robbed/ ' I couldn't give you the numbers of any one of them for the worth of it/ waa my answer. I thought little enough of the words as I spoke them, but I remembered them well enough afterwards. " He left our house that same week, mak ing it understood by my sister that he waa going for a time to Bhare rooms with a friend, who lived a little way in the coun.try. The money he had taken waa replaced, and he promised to pay me in two pay. ononts out of his next two quarters' salary. We were friendly as ever, except that he did not come homo with me. But the coldblooded scoundrel had my ruin in his mind all the time. After a few weeks, not more than three or four, money was missed from one of the desks. It was in bank notes. It naturally occurred to me, after what had happened, that Clint might know something about it, bat he seemed so much at his ease while inquiry was being made I was convinced that he did not. But that ■same evening, when I reached home, I wa3 ■surprised to findoctf anger there waiting for me. He had not told his business to my sister but when she wa3 out of the room ho informed me that b^was a detective officer, and held a search warrant. ' Have you Any money ia the house ?' he asked. I replied that I had forty pounds, and that it was in notea. 'Of course,' said he; 'I should have found it if ydu hadn't owned to having it. Let me see them, please/ I meed not tell you that I produced the money without hesitation. The roll was-aa whon I had last seen it, and tied round with the same piece of Btricg. The officer took the notes in his hand and looked at them, and then he looked at me, and Baid with a eort of laugh, ' Well, you are a cool customer! You don't give much trouble though, that's one good job. Come along, you will go quietly, I suppose ?• « Where ?' 'Why to the Police station, of course. Hang it/ he continued, noticing my aghast face, 'don't try and come the innocent with all the notes stolen from »and Co/s found in your possession/ " I was stunned and dumb-atricken, and W4at with him without another word. It was just as the officer bad said. Forty pounds in M notes had been stolen from the desk, and tho numbers were known, and those I hod produced from my box were the aame. Who could have placed tbom there but Clint ? It was not known

exactly how long a time bad elapsed between the robbery from the desk and the discovery — two or three daya it may have i been. My sister had been much from | I home lately, leaving no one in the house ! during the daytime. This must somehow ' have become known to the crafty villain, and, taking advantage of his knowledge that I had £H0 in bank notes of the numbers of which I was ignorant, he had stolen into the house and into my room, and effected the exchange. It may not j havo been done entirely out of spite and malice. His luck at betting may have gone against him again, and here was a way of patting himself in funds and ruining me at the same time. Bat all this was nothing but suspicion without proof. I stated the case to my lawyer, and his opinion was that since I I had not an atom of evidence of Clint's j guilt I should do myself more harm than I good in accusing him, and it might pro bably be the means of bringing on myself a heavier ' sentence than would otherwise be passed on me. 'Besides,' said the lawyer, 'let me tell you, Clint is the best j fiiend you have at present. He is busying j himself all he can in your behalf, and has himself put down .£5 at the head of aßub-* scriptionhe is getting up to provide money for your defence/ When I heard this I waa puzzled, and my belief in his villainy was for a time shaken, until the maddening truth dawned on me — thiß is all part of his scheme. He can well afford to give £5 out of the money he has stolen, and he is paving the way to marry Margaret when you are in prison and helpless to prevent it. I put this view of it before the lawyer the last time I saw him before my trial, and he told me bluntly that he felt sure that I was altogether wrong, and was doing Clint, who really waß a good sort of fellow, gross injustice. " Well, sir, the end of it was that I was tried, convicted, and sentenced to five years' penal servitude. And, worse than that, my forebodings as to Clint's villainous plans proved true to the letter. He married my sister when I had been away about a year, and two years after that, while I was at Portland, I gok a letter telling me she was dead. It was written by a poor woman who had given her shelter and food at the last, and it informed me of the cruel scoundrel Clint had proved to be as her husband. He had loßt his situation and his character as well, and had squandered the comfortable home she had when she married him, and had been twice sent to prison for his brutal behaviour towards her. I swore when I read that letter that when my time expired — well, it doesn't matter what I Bwore, but you make take my word for it it waa not to try and save his life if the next time I sat eyes on him it was in danger." " And the next time you did set eyes on him ? " the doctor asked. " Was that day when I had found a sixpenny job at luggage-carrying," replied the patient. " I had been at liberty with my ticket five months, and had hunted London through in a vain search for him. You know how and when we met and what happened after. And now I've told you all, and my mind is eaßier." And the doctor that same evening told me the above story pretty much as I have here set it beforejthe reader, and promised to let me know next day how his patient was doing. His message was a short one— " The man, Ralph Sheddon, died quietly at three o'clock this morning. His ticket-of-leave was found in a pocket of his clothes and given up to the police officer, who remarked that he supposed it was ' as good as cancelled.' "