A COVERT THREAT.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6072, 8 January 1898, Page 2

A COVERT THREAT.

(All Rights Reserved.) "Williams," said my host,; " the band won't play to-night, it's raining like the Delude. We can't go out, it s no use knocking the balls about with a man who ought to have been a professional, so tell me a yarn." •' I push back my piate where I had idly collected a pile of nutshells, reach out my hands for one of George's cigars, fill up my glass wifch some rare old port bottled before the world was made brighter by my presence, and look meditatively across the George is younger than I* am— nearly twenty years, I should say. He does not look much more than thirty-five, and I am _well, •my hair is growing very white, and it is not all Chamber work. . • -- - I have run down to Brighton for relief. George has a pleasant flat facing the sea, and nearly every Saturday sees my .legs under his table, glad enough to get away from my quiet rooms in Gray's Inn, and the collection of old bores who haunt my club. Igo back on Monday or Tuesday. Why, I don't know. I have more money now than I can spend, my practice is very exacting, and there is no one to come after me when they set up my tombstone. And tnis — the little dinner, the wine, and, above all, hearty enthusiastic George— just snits me. Yet Monday morning will see me on tlie platform, a Havanna in my mouth, and the Times in my hand, waiting for my train to town. Once you get into harness it is so difficult to get cut, and I shall go on accumulating money fco the end. Then it will all go to George and worry him, for he has fcoo much already. Thafc is the excellent way in which things are managed in this world. George waits for me quietly. He smokes a huge meerschaum, and I watch the big curling wreaths as I run over my rather eventful life. It is the same meerschaum tbat he was smoking when I first met.him in the smoking-room of a little hotel up in the Pyrenees, five years ago. Since then we have been much together. "Did you ever know the Wyndhams of Glenworthy in Devon, George ?" I ask at last. " Let me see," he says, slowly. "Do you mean Fox-hunting Wyndham ?" " Yes, that family." " I knew a little of him once. He was a member of the Carlton— l used to meet him there occasionally. Had a very beautiful daughter — Dorothy, I think her name was. Clever, too, they told me." "Ah, that's it. It is her story I am going to tell you. It all happened over fifteen years ago. Fifteen years! Ah, George, lam getting into the sere and yellow with a vengeance !" " Never mind the moralising, Williams. It is Sunday to-morrow." "I was friendly with the Wyndhams. Jack Wyndham — Fox-hunting Wyndham — and I were at Harrow together, and after he had married and settled down on the ancestral acres, he found me out in my chambers, and insisted on my* going down to his place. After that I spent a good deal of time, off and on, at Glenworthy. I was always a keen sportsman, and even the Inns of Court did not rob me of my love of things sporting. Indeed, in the earlier part of my career, when I used to take a few briefs, the other men used to have wagers on finding a Sportsman or Racing Calendar in my brief bag. When I gave up pleading for Chamber practice, I still read my sporting papers, but then it was in the privacy of my own sanctum. Well, to come to my story, early in December I packed my portmanteau, gave my old clerk a holiday, ran up to Paddington, and took a ticket to Moretonhampstead, fche nearest station to Glenworthy, and went spinning away in the happy contentment born of a misty rain and a gray sky, knowing that Jack's stables would be open to me. So contented was I, that I felt more like a boy of twenty than a sober bachelor of nearly forty with a -legal training, and when we puljed up, at Moreton, and I saw Wyndham's Stanhope and pair of bays, my cup of happiness was full. " I jumped out of the carriage, not sorry to exchange the thick atmosphere of a smoking compartment for the cold, strong air of the moors. The rain had cleared off and the moon was visible. It was only grey dusk, though, and I had no difficulty -.in finding my way. A groom was on the platform — an old friend of mme — who grinned a welcome born of many tips. " Ah, James, a portmanteau and these traps, and — Oh, mind you're very careful with my saddle." I always took my own saddle — it was one of my peculiarities. " Yes, sirj certainly, sir," witn an indulgent grin. I hurried through the little waiting-room and booking-office, and found the Stanhope. Dorothy was perched on the box-seat, her hands pretty full with the high mettled bays, rendered fidgety by the panting engine. " Well, Diogenes ! " she cried airily — she always called me Diogenes out of compliment to what she was pleased to call my cynicism. " Jump up. That's it. No I can't give you my hand. These brutes are pulling like mad. Gently Ncro — so — so ! " She handled the ribbons as well as Jack himself, and that is saying a great deal, for Jack was once a well-known member of the Four-in-Hand. She was a slight, i graceful girl then, just blossoming into a woman. Her hair was a warm brown. She had clear, honest blue eyes, a dainty nose, a small resolute mouth, and a chin that had some of the strength of , her father's. " Let me. see, ' Kitty "—I always called her Kitty because no one else did. "By i Jove, you are growing quite a woman! i Almost given up dolls now ?" " Don't be silly. Or did it mean to be satirical ? Really, Diogenes, you are not i improving. London life doesn't agree with [ you. You are getting dull. James, have , you put the things in the cart ?" " Yes, miss." i "Then jump up." And with a flick of ■ the whip, a gentle " Come along," we rattled s out of the station yard and bowled up the ; hill. [ I took a long breath. The mists, cool, • grey, formless, were creeping up the hills, - the sky was growing clearer, the stars i winked solemnly. The rush of cold air, • as we moved rapidly along, sent my i blood coursing healthily through my veins. r " It's good, isn't it, Diogenes ?" she said . confidentially. 5 "To sit beside you, Kitty ? How I have • longed for this in the weariness of my dull _ chambers," I answered sentimentally. I " Oh, don't ! " she cried, with a ringing I laugh. "lam so tired of all that sort of a thing." L "There are others?" I asked apprer hensively. " I have rivals ? How many, 5 Kitty ? For mercy's sake, how many ?" i She thought for a little whilo. r " Only six ; the others don't count." ) . " Six ! Oh, faithless Kitty ! " i "I can't help it. I don't ask them to go i and make fools of themselves. They just . do it." i " I can hardly call out six men," I said, 1 meditatively. " Besides, duelling is not P good form mow." i " Oh, Diogenes, Diogenes ! The idea of i your crawling out of your tub to dare six i men to mortal combat ! How funny you 3 are ! " 3 " And this is all the sympathy I get ! " ■* " Besides, four of them can't ride." s "Then there is hope. Four from six - leaves two. Who are they ? " 3 " There is Sir George Vernon." b "The man like an operatic tenor with a j bad liver — yes ? " 1 " And the— the other one." ) " Kitty ! " 1 " Well ?" i " It is not well." 3 "That's childish. The repartee is > threadbare. It is not worthy of you." b "How can I think, with this awful man 3 staring me in the face ? " "He's nofc." "Mentally," I said severely. "Who is he" b Is he old?" 3 " No, young." « A mere boy, just out of Eton. . Does he

year turn-down collars and search for a noustache ? " " Mr Harold Bridson must be nearly thirty ," haughtily. " Harold Bridson, the actor ?" "You know him?" I nodded assent. '* How lovely ! Oh Diogenes, this is simply delicious ! " • "I liked him once," I mused sadly. He seemed above the average young man." "Of course ! " "We were friendly — very friendly. The ancient laws of friendship forbid my insisting upon his getting up early and having pot shots at me. I cannot do it — it may be weakness — but I cannot do it. Oh, Kitty, that you should have come between us!" "So you know him. How delightful. We can have no end of a jolly time, we three, you know." "Kitty, this is cruel." " What is cruel ?" " You are simply casting my age in my teeth. Because your father and I were at Harrow together you think me a Methuselah, and actually want me to play propriety to my rival. As a fact, Jack— your father — must be at least six months older than I." „ "My dear Diogenes, you are quite juvenile." "If lam forty " " Nearly," parenthetically. "Well, nearly forty, and my hair is growing a little thin, I have a heart." "No! Really?" incredulously. "Yes, somewhere— l don't know where exactly — and I feel fchis very strongly. Why, I have loved you since you were four." " Yes, and used to bring me chocolates. You never bring me chocolates now." " No, they have a nasty habit of melting and getting mixed with the frilled paper." I patised. "Is there no hope for me ?" I asked pathetically. " No, Diogenes, none." "Well, I must bear it- Other fellows have had to bear that sort of thing. What time do you dine ?" Kitty laughed. Ever since she was six, and knew the difference between boys and girls, we had played at flirting. It has occurred to me since that outsiders might have taken it seriously, for, after all, I was little more than twenty years older than she, and that is not so very disproportionate now-a-days. It was more in our own temperaments that the disparity was obvious. I was a confirmed bachelor and cynical— which is rather a nice way of saying selfish— and she— well, she was very much like an honest English-grown fairy, with a strong will and a love of admiration. So we wenfc on making mock love, and beneath all the unreal sentimentality was a very real affection. So Kitty laughed at the mundane finish to my sentimental pathos. "Not until half -past eight. Are you hungry ?" " Hungry ? How can you ask me thafc now ?" "Why did you ask me when we dined ?" "So that I might know when I should see you in the arms of my favoured rival — that is — next his heart, consuming soup." "I did not say there wast a favoured rival." "You rejected me, you crushed this something or other — I am not good at quotations — heart, you spurned my — you know !" " Yes, but surely you have become used to it, Diogenes ?" " There always has been a favoured rival hitherto?" " No !" very emphatically. "Yes!" I went on moodily. "There was Tom Harris — he was the first, wasn't he ? — fair hair, weak eyes, and a cultured taste in toffee." " Oh, if you are going through the whole list, you might as well change places with James !" " Honestly, Kitty, which is it— Sir George or Bridson ?" " I don't know. It is very perplexing, they are so evenly balanced. Sir George is very handsome, and his moustache is really excellent. I think a moustache such an improvement to a face, don't you ? " " Certainly not," I answered stoutly. Being a bairister I was clean-shaven, as is the custom of my kind. "It is useful in the case of a badly cut mouth, that is all." "Of course Mr Bridson is el -in-shaven. He is not handome, strictly speaking, he has a sunny, strong face — I think I rather like it, it makes me think of blacksmiths and sailors — but I am afraid it is too rough, you know, for beauty. " Bridson is much admired as a rule." " Yes, he is an actor. One section of the community always admires actors without respect to faces." " You have not finished your analysis." " No," gazing steadily between the near bay's ears, " Sir George is very rich and Bridson isn't, but that hardly counts. Then Sir George is very attentive and pays compliments in such a delightful manner, as though he meant them, which is so comforting. ]Men should cultivate the art of paying compliments — the modern habit of treating us as though we were rational beings is so absurd." " So absurd," I echoed softly. "That's because you are jealous, Diogenes," she said severely. " Well, Bridson is not attentive, he smokes when he should be dancing with me, he visit!: the stables when I want to play billiards, and studies his parts when I am in the music-room." '• Yet he is in the running ? " " Yes — it's about level, I think. I like Bridson hest in the morning and Sir George in the evening. I think I shall have tc accept them both, and trust to Providence to rid me of one of them." "Or both," I added darkly. "Or both," cheerfully. " Ah, here we are ! " as she rattled the pair up to the heavily frowning doorway of the substantially built house, and drew up with a quick tightening of the reins that nearlj threw the bays on their haunches. On the steps, idly smoking, were Jack Sir George, and Bridson. Jack wa3 leaning indolently against one of the flanking pillars ; Sir George was holding forth on some subject — his dark, handsome face eloquent, his hands graceful in gesture ; Bridson, whose tall, slim, well-proportioned figure loomed rather vaguely in the shadow of the porch, was pulling the ears of a foxhound. As we pulled up, Sir George sprang tc the side of the Stanhope to assist Kitty. Jack roared out a salutation to me, and Bridson looked up languidly, not ceasing his attentions fco the foxhound. I jumped down, and passed into the house, following Sir George and Kitty. " Ah, Bridson," I said, as I passed him, " London is still mourning your absence." " I am afraid that I do not reciprocate," he answered. " By-the-way, Williams, you missed one of the best runs of the year yesterday. We killed twice — rattling spins, both of them !" " Gad, Bob, you should have been with us ! Old Simmons, the parson, came as beautiful a curler at the Devil's Jump as ever I saw ! I nearly landed on the top of him, but, thank the Lord, I managed to o-et clear. I'm sorry for old Simmons ; but he won't be wanted till Sunday, and we shall get off with a short sermon." Both the men came with me to my room, but Jack left almost at once to give some orders. Bridson was going too, but I atopped him. " Sit down, Bridson, and tell me how the land lies here," I said. " What a cute old lawyer you are !" he laughed. "You are always crossexamining." _ "It requires a lot of cross-examination to arrive at truth." "There area lot of people here— the usual types you know— people without virtues and without vices, mostly. Two young artists, who wile away their spare hours by adoring Miss Wyndham; unfortunately they can't ride, so their adoration is limited." " And you ?" •• Well, I— oh, lam the usual fraud that an actor always is. The idea of meeting a mummer gave a sort of 'pleasant shook te

all the colourless people, which gave way to keen disappointment when they found that I wore an ordinary dress coat and went to ohurch pn Sundays." " How do you like Kitty ? " "She is— look here, Williams, if I weren't an unholy mummer I'd go in for her. As it is, I can't play it so low as that. She is wealthy — awfully wealthy— -and I have only five hundred a year outside my screw. Besides, an actor— —my dear fellow ; what would the world say ? " " Are you in earnest ? " " Earnest ? Look here, Williams, you know some of us behind the footlights. We are not all of us bubbles to reflect passing fancies for the amusement of the gaping crowds. We have hearts — we are flesh and blood; we are probably not worse than those who condemn us." " 1 know that." "Then don't doubt my earnestness." " I do not, if you really mean' it." "Ido ; but uYs no übo. I avoid her as possible. I am ah actor — she is an heiress." " You are a Bridson." " No, my family dropped me when I went on the stage." " My dear boy, you are a fool. No woman is worth more than an honest man's love, and I am disbeliever enough in my experience of men to believe that you are that — an honest man." 1 "Williams, I would not care so much if that man Vernon were not hanging after her. I don't like him." " Jealousy ?" " Perhaps. There's nothing wrong about him, only — only he would not make her happy." " As you would." " You are laughing at me !" " No ; studying the egregious conceit of a man in love." " Well," he continued, rising up from, the bed on which he was sitting, " I have honestly striven to keep away from her, but my will gets weaker every day. Now I must go and dress." At dinner that evening I sat next my host. Kitty was farther down the table, next Sir George, with Bridson opposite. Bridson was in the highest possible spirits, and as the laughter of his immediate circle grew more and more uproarious the frown on Sir George's face grew deeper. Kitty was openly more attentive to her vis-a-vis i than to the baronet at her side. As we were going into the drawing-room I found myself alongside Bridson. i " Going in for the race ?" I asked. He walked on in silence for a moment. " It is the moth and the candle, Williams. I am dazzled, and I suppose I shall singe my wings." All that evening he devoted himself to Kitty. I could see that she was impressed. It was evident that before, he had restrained himself, and now his debonnair wooing came as a revelation. In a corner of the room, where the shaded lamps threw a shadow, Sir George, idly turning over an album, watched the pair with passionate eyes. We were rather a musical party, and the evening passed pleasantly. Sir George only sang once. I think his voice was the most perfect tenor I ever heard. It had the passion of an actor, and the timbre, power, and culture of a musician. He sang " For Ever and for Ever," which is hackneyed enough now, but was then sufficiently fresh for us to admire its passionate abandon. When he came to the line, " Blessing or curse, wliictae'er it b«." he looked up, and there was a fury m his full black eyes as they fell on Kitty and Bridson, sitting together by tbe window, which made me feel uncomfortable. Kitty sang once or twice, bright, sparkling, coquettish little songs, and Bridson busied himself turning over the leaves of the music for her ; but I could not get rid of the uncomfortable memory of Sir George's look, and found myself furtively watching him. The morrow was a hunting day, and the meet some seven miles distant, so we broke up early. I have never been muoh good at early hours, and I always stipulated on smoking in my bedroom ; so when I had bid my host and hostess good-night, kicked off my shoes, poked my fire into a blaze, and in my dressing-gown drawn a huge armchair up to its cheerful warmth, I carefully selected one' of my Havannas, and fell into blissful contemplation. I might have been sitting some five minutes, when I heard a soft knock, and Bridson walked unceremoniously into my room, " That you, Bridson ?" I asked. * " Yes," he answered shortly. He came over to the fire, and putting his elbow on the mantelpiece, looked down at me. He was still in evening dress, and there was a peculiar smile about his lips that made me suspicious. "Camellias are pretty flowers," I said. He was wearing a red camellia in his coat. It wasn't there when he entered the draw-ing-room. " Yes there is something attractive about them," he answered. "So she gave you that, in spite of you being only an actor ? " " Yes," he replied straightly. " How did you guess ?" "My dear boy, when you become a fool and fall in love it does not necessitate blindness on my part. " Diogenes' ! " « Yes— Diogenes ! Bless you, Bridson, that same fellow Diogenes knew the world pretty well, and if he snarled it waa no more than the world deserved. So Kitty gave you a flower, and you gaze into the world as though the world were made oi flowers." "Williams," he'said seriously, coming tc my side and putting his hand to mv shoulder, " don't you think that the world is made up of flowers and weeds, and some of .us see only the flowers and some of us look only for the weeds ? " He paused a moment, and then added. ' " After all Williams, what's the use of studying the weeds ? The flowers are very fair." I said nothing. It is no use -arguing t point with a man who has just learned that a girl lcves him, or heard her say so which, ot course, is the same thing. Yoi may have the wisdom of a Solomon, and he will smilingly wave you aside with ai exasperatingly superior manner. 1 smoked on. There was nothing else t< do. " I began life seeing only the flowers Then someone— for my good— pointed oui the rank, noxious weeds. I saw them they fascinated me. I grew to see nothing else. I was wise you will say. I wai wise, and wretched. Then a light came and glared on the weeds. They no longei fascinated— they were hideous, loathsome Turning from them, the light fell on a lily and in its calm, sweet purity I forgot al "The light was what you call love, tin lily is what you think Kitty." I saw Bridson winced. t> " You are brutal," he said. "Aml? lam tired. lam always bruta when lam tired. The state of being tirec is an animal state, you know," He moved restlessly towards ( my door He wanted me to call him baok. He wai longing to unburden his mind to me. '. knew the the curious nervous irritabilitj of the step. " Going, old boy ?" I said. " Well, good night." He could not stay after that,, so I wai left for the silent ten minutes of communioi with myself and a cigar, which are to be the golden clasps that bind the days. The next morning I came down late Nearly everyone had finished brekfast Jack roared a greeting to me from the fool of the table, and shouted to the footmat to tell the men to bring round the horses Splashes of red looked bright in the lon-; oak-panelled floor-polished breakfast room Most of the men were in pink — one or tw< in lounge jackets seemed quite apart fron the interests of the day. " Bob, what the deuce do you mean b*, being late!" growled my host. "A gre** sky and a soft air. Why, man, the seen will lie as keen as a razor ! You've go Beauty, Bob ; don't spare her. She's rathe: queer-tempered and a bit fresh, but yoi like 'm r bit lively, I know." I nodded acquiescence, and Jack rushec off to give some final directions. I lookec round the room. In the deeply-bayec -window stood Bridson-and Kitty. She wa:

very fresh, very pretty, very wholesome, Btanding there in the grey of the -day. Her riding-habit showed off the grace of her figure, and the smile whicli played on her lips lit up her eyes and made her radiant. Bridson looked absurdly happy. Suddenly I saw Sir George. He was standing before a bookcase watching them, He was very white, even his lips were bloodless, and his fingers were gripping hiß scarlet coat in a Bilent fury. " Lovely morning for a run, Sir George, I said. He did not hear me, although he i was quite close and my voice is fairly, powerful. "Pardon me, Sir George, where do they draw ? I shall probably have to ride to covert by myself." "At Frenchbere," he said, After that he moved away, and presently the whole . party rode off with a clatter and rush pf laughter. Finishing my breakfast in the leisurely manner . I try to cultivate in all things> . Beauty was brought' sound. , . I -mounted and set out on my solitary , ride, yvJadk was.qtxifce right., Beauty was - freah, -and I had enough to do with her without thinking.about Sir George. When I reached French-, here I found that they had so far only drawn a blank. Jack was shouting orders, and overy now and then a plaintive yelp showed that the pack were not far off the | scent. Frenchbere is a curious place. A clump of trees with a lot of undergrowth is perched on the side of a hill which runs rather brokenly down to a fairly broad stream, then swollen with previous rains to a /mountain torrent. It was to this clump of trees that we were drawing, and in a clearing of it I came on Bridson and Kitty. Bridson had dismounted and was standing by her side, holding her hand and look'ng ' into her eyes. She was smiling at him in a playful manner, and every now and then her laugh rang true on the air. » As I rode up Sir George happened to cross in front of me, and caught Bight of ' the picture almost as soon as I did. I eaW ' him set his teeth hard, his hand savagely . jerked the curb, and a terrible anger' blazed from his black eyes. His mount reared in remonstrance, and he thrashed him as I have seen few men thrash a dumb brute. I was riding forward to speak to him when there came a sudden burst of music from the hounds, and Jack's voice in joyful ecstasy, " Stole away!" Kitty, who was near an opening, made a dash for it, and was out in fche open field. Bridson jumped into his saddle, gathering up the reins and settling his hat at the same time. Sir George caught him up just a little in front of mo. " Bridson, by I'll kill you !" he hissed. That frightened me, and I determined to keep the two in view. Down the hill we pelted, the whole field straggling before us. At the bottom, as I told you, was a.Btream, On the near bank was a wall which had crumbled in one place, sufficiently to make a breach practicable for one to jump ata time. The opposite bank was crumbly, and altogether the leap was one very rarely made. There was a gate and a bridge a little lower down, and must of those out had chosen that. Jaok had cleared in his usual impetuous manner, but the men in front and myself were the only ones now heading for the Strait Gate, as it waa called. Bridson led, and the pace was much too heavy down that rough hill. He seemed to realise that, for within fifty yards of the take-off he eased his horse a bit. To my horror, however, Sir George went up to Bridson with a rußh. I clapped spurs into Beauty and lifted her over the ground. "My God, Vernon! What are you doing ?" I cried. It was all over in a moment. Bridson. took the leap, and Sir George deliberately cannoned'nim. It was awful ! I heard the splash and saw the water spray up as I pulled in Beauty for all I was worth. .1 only juet got her in— Bhe would have landed on the top of them in another second. I rode like the wind down the bank, yelling at the top of my voice. When I got to the top of the bridge I jumped off Beauty, and she went careering wildly on. I looked up Btream. I had beaten it in the race, and hurriedly pulling off my coat and heavy boots, I waited. It seemed an eternity, but it could not have been more than a few seconds when a whirl of colour and 3ridson's white face came tearing down. I lay right down and reached out. Luckily, I caught his collar, but the drag was too much, and over I went. He was insensible, which was a good thing, as he lay quite passive. For a little time I went down with that awful water race. I knew there was a fallhalf-a mile below, and the knowledge cooled my head. I waited until' I saw a tree overhanging the river, when I made a grasp at one of its branches. The strain was fearful, but I held on, and presently a couple of men pulled us out. It was touch and go, and the whole affair Bpoilt my coat. Bridson got all right very quickly, and as you know, married Kitty. Sir George was found the next day bruised almost out of recognition. Poor beggar, he waß ; cursed with the worst disease that can i befall a man — jealousy.