THE MAN WITH THREE EYES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7000, 16 January 1901, Page 4

THE MAN WITH THREE EYES.

(By WTLOEAM IE QTEEJUXJ. ainllKw of "In mite IteMneay "-Pnnpae and Fine Linen," "Whoso Findtetih a "Wife," "Scribes and Pharisees," eto., etc. i [Ale Eights Reserved.] ■ PeopJe wflro drift ibi£her and tftither on itfhe ceaseless tide of greateD Lonldbn someftimes meet with queer advenboires. Thi9 - story concerns one of ttihezn^ a dioannja in ireaS. life, in -which I unwittingly jteyedl & leading part. . .- My woigh enemy Tvould not accuse <me ox being an imaginativo man. 'Romance does notnouxisili in tihe vitiated: alfonjosphere of the metropolis. lam a plain', dust-stifled, fog-choked Londoner, a cleric in the city, •wfcbse only relaxation from a tearing 1 ,, frantic business life consists in 'two brief weeks in August!, spent upon tihe promenade of (some sea-side resonfc, and to "wmtont "tiae twotflay toolidky at Christmas comes as a weljeon»vrest. 'How lonely a man can be° amid those : bustling million^ only we <wiho teve eccperi- . erased it dan judge. The anon who is mair*!tie*s, who lives in some pleasam* sufouiib Where the "desirable Queen lAmme iresideinoes" each possess ttiheir strip of lawn* and wiho has money, need never wianjb far ficiendla. Not so, however, tihe sfcroggQimg city dlerk, ■whose salary is &r too rnsagnfifioanlb even, |O attract that übiquitous coiffespondenlfc who ■entfe out fommclaDle yell&w pwpeas— tine col- . lector of income tax. I Trtis a mian -wii4«>Tit an income. Mly gaiajy, reckomed "by slhiMings per "weeik^ was never sufficieait to excite envy,, bufo » few weeks prior to the 3aefc Ohii^tnnaa it ceasea; owing to -tihe deatih of my emdloyen, an agent for Lyons sdlks, wtio oocopiea a ceilar—lbasement it ■was oalled— in Fore Sbreet. Tfliiuai in the dark December diays I fouandl myaelf driMng aJbou* London -with onSy a few Shillings 3a my podket, and mtb an appaffling lul for board and iodgin®. fflfiy age was thirty, I was sound in wind aawi !bm!b, smart »t adoountta, and eager ftxr any tEre^h emjpSoymentb. Bu* tflie desk's Eie in London is mtfortranialbely not a briffliamlt one-4fhexe are too mfeuay Genmans onnr^a-days. To advertisements in the daily papers for " clerics wanted " I had replied! toy the score, but all my applications remained unanswered. From end to end. I trod' black dismal !London>, wrapped as it was in gloom and fog, but cotdd find nothing whatsoever to do. Only when one is without employment does one fully realise the fierceness of the ffcroggle to Eve. Fortunately I <was a Smdhelon, and my laxudHady, a worthy dame of that " respectable person. " genus so -wellknown to the C&ty clerk who lives in dig£ings, was never, pressing. I lived ia Acton Street, a dispiriting turning off the Gray's Inn Road, a thoroughfare gloomy even' on 4he brightest July day. But by various jviscmnstances, my life itself had' become wanped, and" the suddlen loss of employment ioaned the culminiating point of my bad fortune. i It 'wanted but a fewLdays to Christmas, and feelrug confident; that no one would engage a clerk before the holidays were over, I had therefore ceased my eager morning sesrob through tie papers at the"- St jPuieras Fsee Library. Truth to telf, I was 'downhearted, and the preparations made on all sides for Christmas festivities jarred upon ane,. Mine would certainly not be a Happy Christmas. On the morning previous to Christmas Ere, however, I was passing the library, and, by force oi habit, stepped) in to glance over one or two of the papers. Suddenly my eye caught an advertisement, the wording of which seemed as though the advertiser had' me in his mind. Immediate employment was offered to "a good accountant, not over thirty, of smart personal appearance and address, must know 'French, preference given to one iwho has •ome knowledge of the silk trade." It was just the thing ! .. .I. copied the address, returned to my roam, wrote a letter, and in order to be an early applicant left it at the office of the newspaper in Fleet Street, addressed to the initials given. Up Ludgate Hill and through the City I gtroiled, -with a distinct feeling that I should (obtain the* situation vacant. Nor was I [disappointed, for at six o'clock that eveniSng, when I returned to my lodgings, Mrs jCnrtis greeted me, saying: — ■ "There's been a gentleman for you, sir. ;*E "waited up in your room nearly 'arf an hour* but couldn't stay any longer, so 'e ileft a note." • I dashed upstairs, tore open the envelope jiving on the table, and found a> single line ; saying that my application had been received, and asking me to call that same serening at The Firs, Windmill Road, ■W«uDdtewort!h Coanmian. Judge my delight on reading thiu. The .employer, -whoever he -was, evidently wanted !-jne in a bttrry, or he would oat have come i straight to me within a few hours. He : muat have called in Fleet Street for any •replies, found mine, and decided upon enI gaging me then and there. • So after a hasty meal I travelled by train to Clapham Junction, and not without some little difßculty found that the road indicated iwas a highly respectable one of detached .houses, 'facing the railway line, with the Xopen common beyond. The night was cold (and wet, and the road so ill-lit, that a con-- ! jriderable time elapsed before I discovered (that The Firs was a large house, somewhat jsuperior to its neighbours, with a greenhouse j built at the side. It lay back at a little distance from the read, with an oak fence bejfore it. The garden seemed well kept, and | almost the instant I touched tihe alectrio [bell the door was throwni open by a grave ; elderly man servant, who showed me into • warm comfortable room to the left of the entrance.

Itene Tvaa a Guricras sandi abotrfc tbe

place that I could riot account for. I sniffed, and found it rather disagreeable, but, after the lapse of a few minutes toe floor opened, and there entered an old gentleman, tall, extremely ' thin, and of unSitary appearance. His white hair was scanty, but ihe possessed ' a red face and long white moustache. He wore a dinner jacket, with a fine diamond in his shirt front, and as he entered bowed rather graciously, motioning me to keep my seat. His qiiick black eyes seemed) to look me through in an instant ; then, as he seated friwisftlf in, an, armchair on tihe opposite side of tihe fire, he said inquiringly, " You are the applicant for the situation —Mr Thurlow, I believe." I responded in the affirin-atwe, expressing regret that I was not in when his messenger had called. "I have read your application- carefully, and you appear to have a knowledge of the silk trade." "I was for six years with Mr Marshall, the agent of Drumomt Frews, o£ Lyons," I answered. " Excellent firm," he responded, " Excellent fira*, one of the best m tihe trade. I knew Marshall. He died a month ago, poor fellow." '^ "It was by reason of 'Ms death that the* agency passed into other hands, and I lost my berth," I explained. "I quite Understand. You speak French, and you are a bachelor. Would you object to go abroad on various commissions, if occasion required?" " Certainly not," I replied, singling, I should like it." He hesitated, his head thrown back, has eyes fixed uppn one. He seemed not quite decided .whptiner to engage me. My heart fluttered. He sat twisting the pencil-case on has watch-guard without uttering a word. " The man. I want," 'he said at last, " must be a confidential clerk. With me it is not so much ai question of money I V*T>Jf ** is a question of secrecy. lam prepared to pay well for services faithfully performed^. "I would perform my duties as faithfully as I possibly could," I declared. "That's all very well," he responded), unconvinced. " One slight indiscretion might cost me a very great deal. In this matter I must have someone in whom I can place absolute trust." "15. you give me a trial I will endeavour to show you that any confidtonce reposed i» me is not misplaced," I declared. But the thin, white-moustached old man only smiled, rather sttperafliously, I thought. The idea that I could keep a secret appeared to hint amusing. " WeU, Mr Thmiow," he said at last. " I will engage you permanently, at to salary of £5 a week, but only provided that you agree to certain conditions, which, although they may appear strange to you, are, nevertheless, necessary for the successful conduct of the business I have in hand." Five pounds a week! For such a salary I was eager to accept anv conditions. The man seemed to be rather eccentric. Possibly my predecessor had betrayed Borne business secret, and he now mistrusted everybody. Such cases are not at all unusual. _ "And what are theVonditions?" I inquired. The first is that you give me a vow of absolute secrecy that you will tell nothing of what you may see or near to a. living soul," he said, in a deep, impressive voice. "I am quite prepared to do that," I replied. He turned in his chair and took from * shell within his reach' a small Bible, handing it to me, and causiing m© to repeat after him an oath of secrecy, and to kiss the volume of sacred writ. This action struck me- as curious. Yet he seemed a perfect gentleman in- both man- j ner and appearance, and his spontaneous generosity commended hi\m to me. 1 " Good," he exclaimed, when I handed him back the book, " Now we can advance a j step further. The term of your engagement j will be for one year certain, and perma- j nently if you give entire satisfaction. Your ; name is James Thurlow. 'Well, from this • hour James Thurlow disappears," he .said, I looking at me curiously. " I don't quite follow you/' " To speak plainly, your identity will disappear," he replied. "Y«n will become Hugh Harteup, my eldest aan, and will eo to live in a bachelor flat in St James's Street, all expenses being paid) by myself. AH vou must do is to alter your aptraarance so. that j those who may chance to know you as Thur- 1 low will no longer recognise you." "But your son?" I queried, much surprised at this remarkable suggestion of his. " Will he not discover me?" Hs glanced at me quickly, with an expression which puzzled me. "No," he answered; "nty eon is, unfortunately, dead." "But why do you wish me to make up and personate him?" I inquired. It seemed ; curious, to say the least, and I became ! filled by a vague suspicion. "Si pay you well for your services, it is surely not incumbent upon me to tell you i the why and wherefore?" he mapped quick- j fy. "Is not the pay sufficient? It struck j me that in your present situation you would \ like to earn three hundred a year." "So I would," I answered with perfect frankness, "but the idea of personating a