"STAR" TALES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 8054, 5 July 1904, Page 4

"STAR" TALES.

/OM KENNEDY'S CHANCE. . (ByMAKY LOVETT CAMERON.) Autlor of " A Rebel," etc. [All Bights Resebybd.] •—■—«•- v It was at Isidor's restaurant in the qua? tier Latin that Tom. Kennedy told me toqueer story which I now repeat, as nearl} as possible in his own words : — I aan an unlucky beggar, if ever there was one ; everything falls flat directly I' come into it. If I get an order to paint a portraib any sister dies or gets the smali-pox before the likeness is sketched in ; if one of my pictures sells in an exhibition the buyer foes bankrupt before he pays me. The ews would call me a Schlemyl. I had a chance once of making a small fortune in tbree months, but as usual something went wrong at the last. Ifc was a mysterious business that, I've never- been able to make . it out. I'll tell you the story, it happened years ago, go I don't think I need hoid my tongue any longer, and you journalist fellows ■re so sharp you may be able to understand what it was all about. My chance found me out here, in this little student's "joint," where such of us artists as ere too poor to be proud put up with old Isidor's sanded floor and American tjdth talblecovers for the saike of his dinners »t 1 franc 15c and long credit at that. Dinner-time was past, and the place 'was emptying, the fellows were off to the »»fes or the theatres, or to make jovial fools of themselves at Pulliers' or the Chat noir, trat I sat on, I had not even five sous in my pocket to pay for a bock- at a brasserie, feat was one of the worst winters I ever passed, and God knows I have- lived down nard ones. But for brave little Tsidor I should have starved " bel et foien," but the good fellow never seemed to remember when the end of the month came round, most of the habitues are "an mois" here. Well. here I sat, listening to the bump, bump of the swing-doors as the fellows pushed through ttiem into the street, and' aimlessly watching the monumental form of Madame Isidor enthroned "behind her zinc counter wfiere she was arranging the day's takings in little heaps, sous, francs, five franc pieces, each in a little heap to itself. Isiddr tad vanished . into the kitchen at the back; I caught glimpses of him through the halfopen door helping the «ook to wash up. . A feeling of shame .added to my depression. What right had I to sponge on the gener(*ity of this kind-hearted pair? There was a pistol at- my studio. I /had

been about to carry it to the Monte de piete that day, but had kept it— in case. Just then I turned my head involuntarily and met the glance of a pair of piercing black eyes. I had thought that I was the last man in the restaurant, but it was not so, a Little old man with a formidable hook nose was sitting in the far corner. He wae so utterly unlike the frequenters of Isidor'u that the sight of him gave me a shock. "A confounded money -lender looking after some poor devil," I muttered, turning more entirely away from him, and looking out into the street, where the silhouettes of passers by, blurred and swelled by the steamy glass, hurried along in the yellow gaslight. But I seemed still to feel his gaze at the back of my neck. I could not sit still under it, and I jumped up and went out. It was a cold, dreary November evening, a thin, half-frozen rain stung my face ; I had no overcoat, and should soon be wet through, and then the cold dark studio and the pistol on the 6helf . " The devil does not trouble to buy souls nowadays; they give themselves gratis." Some such thought was in my mind as I came to the corner where the Boulevards St Michael and Montpaxnasse intersect. Across the open space the lights of the Bal Bullier sent gloomy rays into the dark nightair, and from, the open door of the Cafe des Lilacs came sounds of laughter and the click of the billiard balls.

On I went towards the cemetery Montparnasse, near which, in a dismal little " impasse," my studio was hidden away. All at once I felt impelled to look round, ac I had done at Isidor's, and there in the nearly deserted road, a few steps behind me, an tfttUaan in a long great coat shuffled | along in ti& rain. I could not distinguish his features, but something in his aspect i made me think of the strange being who had gazed so persistently at me in the restaurant. I walked on, but the doubt worried me, and I stood etili under the next . lamp, and awaited him. It was the same man. I was in no humour for trifling, and said abruptly : " "May I inquire. Monsieur, why you do me the honour of dogging my footsteps?" Not the least disconcerted by my bluntness, the stranger replied, " I have a communication to make to you." j " Well, out with it," I said impatiently. He looked round warily, two figures pressed together under an umbrella hustled us ac they hastened by. " Our talk must be private. Will you take me where we can speak without interruption." ; Mysterious and uncanny, the old fellow fitted my mood. I was too played out. to be afraid of anything, and any company was better than my own thoughts. In fire minutes wo were in my studio, and a hastily lit lamp sent up a film of ill-smelling smoke between us as we stood facing each other; I remember noticing how the white limbs of- a new life study showed up out of the gloom in which the flickering light left the rest of the studio. Laying a. claw-like hand on my sleeve the stranger said slowly, still fixing me with his glittering eyes : "Young man, do you wish to earn 100,000 francs?" I jumped as if he had stung roe. Upon my soul I thought Satan was there before me in person — somehow Peer Gynt's "He is not economical" flashed through .my mind. You won't think much of my principles when I tell you my answer was prompt. " Of course I do." I "Thatfs all right." My tempter, as I now regarded him, drew a long breath and looked curiously round the studio, its desolation \ impressing him agreeably; dropping his hesitating cautious manner, he became keen, insinuating and business-like. " You are the man a bold and admirable project has been awaiting. Those for whom 1 act require three months of your time, during which you will make a journey on our business. An advance of 5000 francs will be made to you for preliminary expenses. With it. yon will free yourself from all ties, and get an outfit for a voyage to a

hot country. We give you two days for the preparations and on Friday evening (this is Wednesday) you will meet me at the Gare St Lazare where further instructions will be given to you."

" Convince me of two things : that lam not to be required to commit murder, and that the money is safe, and I'm your man," I answered.

" Have ycu ink and paper here?" inquired the tempter.

I fetched what he required, and he wrote a few words which he enclosed in. an envelope; then he fumbled in his pocket, and produced a bulky, pocket-book from which he took five bank notes. -He laid them carefully on the table, and I saw that each was for 1000 francs. For the life of me I could not command my countenance, though I knew that his cunning eyes were watching the effect the sight of so much, money would produce on me. " I trust you," He croaked, " there are. the meana for 'releasing you from all claims which' might embarrass your movements. To-morrow morning take tills letter to the address on the envelope, and your scruples and doubts will, I hope, he removed. And now good-night, we meet again on Friday at five p.m." He- was gone, and I stood looking at the bank-notes, scraps of paper which meant a renewal of life and hope to me.; I took up the envelope, it was addressed to one of the most important Jewish banking houses in Paris.

When I woke next morning, I fancied I must have had a weird -dream, but there beside me lay the bank-notes and the letter, prosaic facts to reassure me.

Before the doors of the bank were opened, I was walking ' up and down in front of them., and when a little later I stood in the outer office, with clerks scribbling on all •ddes, and customers coming and going, all seemed so commonplace and everyday that my fancies of the night before died away *nd only a feeling of mystification remained. The letter was carried into an inner janctum, and, almost immediately I was conducted thifther, where among luxurious surroundings a florid young jraiior partner with a big diamond shirt-stud entertained mo with remarks on the autumn handicaps, and seemed disappointed to hear that I was ;no sportsman. The head of the firm soon came in, looking just like th& rich, respectable Jew he was. I had expected some confidential explanations, but nothing of the sort was forthcoming. In the tnosfc matter of fact manner an agreement already drawn out was signed and witnessed, and by it I was entitled to 100,000 francs on the conclusion of my en-

gagement, from one Aaron Rosenblum that day three months, another document stating that the money was deposited in his bank was signed by the banker. I know nothing about business, but it all seemed fair and square, and I had only to look round to see I was not in a place where a vulgar swindle would be hatched.

I never enjoyed anything more in my! life than I did that day and the next. After not knowing where to turn for four sous to pay for a cup of coffee, to go in and out of shops strewing money about does a fellow good, I can tell you, and the excitement and the spice of adventure added to the charm. I paid up Isidor, and gave a dinner to a dozen fellows, and told them that a rich relation had died and left me some money, and that I was off next day to the funeral. "When my cab drove up to the Arc St Lazare next day, I found the old tempter on the steps. He took me by the arm and said: "I have your ticket, my man will register your luggage, and meantime I have a word io say to you." He led me out, arid ire walked slowly up the narrow street that flanks the station. I saw he was scanning my face nervously. My heart beat a bit quicker. I felt I was on the brink of a revelation. He began in a harsh, croaky whisper: "When you arrive at the port to which this steamer ticket franks you, a person will board the steamer asking for Brown, agent for Rosenblum, of Paris ; you will leave the ship with him, and he will put you in the way of fulfilling our purpose. . You are to take the pla~e of a prisoner, unjustly condemned,«and whose release will be applauded by all just men. Hush! don't speak hastily, let me explain further. The gaolers are bought, the whole plan complete, except one link. A man lie enough to the prisoner to deceive the governor on his night rounds. You are that man." There .was a silence, the eye of the tempter never left me as I totted up the account. " And suppose next morning, when they discover the mistake, they hang me on the nearest gallows?" • , " The danger is infinitesimal. Tlie gaoler will let you out by the same way he has already let out the true prisoner 5 you may be arrested somewhere as th,e real man, but you will have papers to prove that you are a harmless commercial agent travelling oh business. In the meantime our man will have got the necessary twelve hours' start, which is all he will need to get aboard a yacht cruising round awaiting him." "And if the. governor finds out the imr posture?" "He will not. He believes the prison , impregnable, and merely inspects as part of his duty, just a passing glance by lamplight ; believe me, you are quite safe on that head. Your resemblance to the prisoner is extraordinary." I was not the dupe of his arguments. I saw the risk I was to run clearly enough, but, after all, the 100,000 francs could not be gained without some drawbacks. I ac-

cepted the job, and we walked back to the Gare together. * Then came the " Schlemylade," the breakdown, that comes to everything I lave a band in. As we mounted the flight of stens leading to the salle d|attente a gentleman leaning against the railings saluted my guide. " Excuse me for a moment, I must speak to a friend." I strolled on to tie bookstall, and spent a. few minutes laying in a stock of bo£ks and papers for the journey. When the tempter joined me his first words shattered my house of cards. " Our project is abandoned." " How — what—" " News has just reached us that a revision of the prisoner's sentence will be granted. The news will not be made public for some time,, but our information is sure. No attempt at evasion will now be made." "And all m 7 time— -my trouble — my — my " "We offer you our sincerest apologies, and," here the wily, insinuating tone reappeared, and he almost embraced me in his deprecatory excuses, "we are ready to do anything we can to indemnify you for •nuttine you to so, much inconvenience. You are freed from all emljar.rassments, packed ready for a journey ; would, now would a journey to Italy, the land of art. and sun. be any compensation to you? If so— a t'clcet .to any Itaiian town and a further 5000 francs for expenses during the winter are at your disposal." Of ccrarf«, I saw that lie wished to pet me oub of the way for a. bit, but one of my dreams was to see the mosaics of Ravenna, and I told him co. He fell into the -plan at once, and took me to the Gare de Lyon, I and saw me off for Italy.

As you may imagine, the 5000 francs lasted me longer than the winter. I wandered on down the Adriatic shore, got round to Capr.i, in fact I am only just back, po. after all, I did get something out of the business, though not what I hoped. " Has it never occurred to you to try to get to the bottom of the mystesy 5 1 " ''Not much. I did call round at the bank, when I .got back, and asked to see that junior partner just out of curiosity. But you never saw anybody so politely forgetful — fte really remembered nothing whatjver about the business— but then they were engaged in so many important affairs. And he bowed me out, feeling a perfect fool for having gone there at all."