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Star (Christchurch), Issue 9323, 25 August 1908, Page 4

literary life." he said, "but I aiu learning. I now perceive one of the charms of thart life to lie in the opportunity of associating ladies with us in our literary undertakings. It is not every journal which affords scope for their peculiar gifts, but openings and opportunities can be found. It was a chance for Florence to mention " The Bloodstained Foundling, or The Wrongs of the Rightful Heir." She would have been more than human if she had not seized it, and Mr Quidnunc appeared impressed by the title. He believed, he said, that there was a large demand for that line of literary goods — especially when it was the work of a charming young lady. With illustrations, perhaps? Yes, it would do better with illustrations. He would think the matter over; he would write and fix an appointment to discuss it. " I have to run over to Chicago on business to-morrow," he paid, " but I'll go right ahead." And then he resumed paying compliments, and continued paying them until the afternoon was well advanced. So everything looked very promising indeed, and the only drawback to the situation was that Florence Aspinall did not, as she said, altogether like the way in which Mr Quidnunc looked at her. "Tt'a all r very well," she said, "to be admired and flattered, but etill " Osmond was of pretty much the same opinion ; but the position was a difficult one, and he made excuses for his proprietor. ■ " He's been brought up among sausages, you know." " But that's no reason for looking at me as if 1 were a prize pig," Florence retorted. h . " I know. But it's *nly his way. He doesn't mean any . harm, and he's a man who does what he promises, and does it without dawdling. He'll start a paper to run your story in, ac sure as sure, if only .you're decently polite to him." "You r&ally think so, Osmond?" " I haven't a doubt of it." They discussed the matter more than once during Mr Quidnunc's absence in America, but always came back to the same conclusion. Indeed, there were no other substantial grounds on which any other conclusion could be based. Mr Quidnunc had been brought up among sausages, and had perhaps taken more champagne than was good for him. Consequently, he had expressed the admiration which it was natural for him to feel rather more openly than is usual in more cultivated circles. But the very openness of the admiration proved its innocence on the part of an elderly man and widower. Mr Quidnunc meant no harm. He merely meant to be gcood-natnred ; he was in the genial mood of the bachelor uncle who gives a wedding present. So they argued ; and perhaps at the moment they were right. Perhaps Mr Quidnunc had begun by thinking merely " This is a nice girl — and a pretty girl into the bargain — and it woulr 1 be a pleasure to do something to please her-" But ho also desired the pleasure of seeing her look pleased — the pleasure, that is to say, of being frequently in her company ; and that was a desire that grew upon him. It was no wonder, for the compliments which ho had paid her, though I perhaps improper to pay, were certainly well deserved. Florence Aspinall was not one of the literary ladies wno wear spectacles, nor was she one of t>>e literary ladies who are so occupied witn great thoughts that they have no time to wash their hair. Her hair wan golden, and glittered like corn when the sun shines on it; her eyes were blue ; her complexion was fresh ; and her figure was plump and graceful. And |Mr Quidnunc, as has been said, was a widower, and, though elderly, by no means old enough to be insensible to such charms. And he was not a gentleman, not even one of nature's gentlemen, as, of course, a man brought up among sausages may perfectly well be. And so Well, as the time passed, the situation became more and more awkward for the lovers who loved under his patronage. He did not "fix " things with his customary expedition ; he preferred to discuss them at great length in all their details. Moreover, he exhibited a tendency to leave Osmond Effingham out of the consultations, and to expound his plans to Florence As pinall alone. He took her out to lunch : he took her out to dinner; he even, I hinted at a desire to take her to the | theatre and to supper at Prince's, and ' seemed annoyed when, she insisted that, for the last-named excursion, ehe must have a chaperon. Osmond began to get angry. "I don't like it," he said. "No more do I," said Florence. I "But what's to be done? I'm sure i I've dropped hints enough." j "Hints? What's the use of . dropI ping hints to a man brought up among '• ea usages?" | " Not much, I'm afraid. But- wliaVs to be dione? If I snubbed him too o]>«nly lj© might revenge himself on you, and I do want him to publish ' The Bloodstained Foundling.' $o piease trust me,' Osmond. I'll be as stiff with him as I dare. I always am, and I do manage to keep him at a distance, 1 r «ally."

And no doubt she did so, and thought she could continue to do so. But that task is always hard when a woman, is young and fascinating, and allows herself for whatever reason, to be taken to lunch and to dinner by a man too old to be easily abashed, hard-headed, hard-skinned and impervious to hints. And Osmond knew that, or at least suspected it. " Of course, I trust you, my pet," lie snid. " But I've not so much confidence in him, and I think we'd better try another kind of diplomacy. Sv,>pose you had a nervous breakdowr t*nd went away for change of air. Then I might be able to get the arranxemwus for" the new paper put through while you were in the country." It seemed the best course open to them, and they adopted it. " I've got an aunt at Hastings," Florence saidj "I'll go and stay with her." "Soon?" - "I'll wire and ask if I may go tomorrow." The reply was favourable, and Florence went. But she forgot — or did not stop to reflect — that Hastings was within a motor run from London, and that Mr Quidnuno was a motorist. And that was the accident that brought matters to a climax. She was absent exactly a week. At the end of the week Osmond received a telegram from her, to say that she was returning and wanted him to meet her on the platform at Charing Cross. He was just able to finish dictating his letters in time to keep the appointment, with horrid suspicions dawning in. his mind. " So soon? Has anything happened?" he asked eagerly, as he helped her out of the the train, and they walked up and down together in the open space under the clock. " That odious man J" she gasped. "What! You don't mean to say that he /followed you to Hastings?" "Yes; ho came down yesterday on his motor. He called this morning. My aunt was in bed with one of her bad Headaches. I had to see him alone and — and " "And he made love to you? You don't mean to say that he made love to you?" But that was indeed what he had done. /The 'girl shed tears of shame as she admitted it. " It wasn't my fault, really, Osmond. I couldn't help it; I did everything to stop him. But he wouldn't be stopped. He a6ked me — oh ! how can I tell you ? — he asked me to throw you over and marry him instead." "And you?" he asked, with that momentary twinge of jealousy which is inevitable in such a case. " I — l slapped his face, Osmond, and n There was consolation in that; and then Osmond asked: "Did he take it quietly, like a gentleman?" But he had not done so. He had taken it like a man brought up among sausages. He had vowed revenge; he had boasted of his power and threatened to use it; he had told Florence that she had done a bad morning's work for Osmond. All that was vulgar and underbred in his nature had found expression, and he had said: "Out he goes, miss; out into the street. That's where I took him from, and that's where I'll put him back. You can go right along and tell him so, with my compliments, if you wish." Florence toned the message down a little, but delivered the gist of it, and then onco again burst into tears. She had meant well; she had acted for the best; and now, just because she was pretty and attractive, she had ruined her lover's prospects .as well as her own. Alas! and alas! The position was, indeed, embarrassing. The end of Osmond's "one year certain " was approaching. A month's notice, or a month's salary in lieu of notice, might terminate his engagement at any instant. ' Very possibly the signification of his dismissal was already on its way to him. No doubt his experience as an editor had improved his status in Fleet Street. He would not havo to begin again quito at the beginning. Still, it might be long before he found another post as good as that which he vacated. A ftirther and indefinite postponement of his marriage seemed inevitable. Unless A sudden thought struck him. His dismissal had not reached him yet. He was still editor of th«> " Upshot." He could still act, and bind in proprietor, in that capacity. Suppose Sharp practice? Perhaps. But the Sausage King was treating him badly, and deserved to be overreached. It would be a new experience- -a salutary experience^ — for the truculent trader, who prided himself upon his smartness. Then he would. Only he must make haste about it. So he hurriedly confided his design to Florence. " Go homo and wait for a letter," he said. ''When you get it, reply at once to the office by telegram." And they parted, and went their several ways in hansoms. It was a race against time, for already Mr Quidnunc wa6 in his motor, speeding back to town, and exceeding the speed limit as often as he dared, and framing his plans as he rode. His one fear was that his editor, thus suddenly ejected, might, in his vexation, carry off all the manuscripts that were in the office, and make it impossible to bring the paper out that week. To prevent that, he must go to the office in person— and not alone. His solicitor must accompany him to see i that all the necessary formalities were | observed. So he steered straight for Lincoln's Inn, wrote out his cheque and I his eviction notice at the man of law's

direction, and brought the man of law along with him to Fleet Street. It was the man of law who served the notice on the editor in his sanctum, while the proprietor smoked a halfcrown cigar in the waiting-room. Osmond, who was at his desk correcting proofs, accepted it with well-bred impenetrable calm. i " Very well," he said, ac if the matter were of no importance whatsoever. "It is rather sudden, but Mi Quidnunc is quite within his rights,'' and he rose and prepared to go. The lawyer seemed to be watching him suspiciously ac he put some papers away in a despatch-box, so he added ; " These are only my private papers that I am removing. You are welcome to look and check my statement if you wish. The accepted manuscripts are in this drawer. The letter-book is on thai shelf. My successor will see from it to what arrangements he is committed." Then he bowed and walked otft, passing Mr Quidnunc in the waiting-room . as if unaware of his existence. I As he walked through it there was a double knock at the door, and a telegram was delVered. The Sausage King took it, opened it, and read as follows : — " Accept with thanks your offer ot one thousand pounds for serial use in " Upshot " of my story of one hundred and twenty thousand words, entitled, ■ The Bloodstained Foundling or The Wrongs of the Rightful Heir.' First instalment to be delivered on Monday next, and eo-mnlete MS. to be in voui hands before Christm*« - -Flo-ence Aspinall." Mr Quidnunc stamped, and swore, and turned to the solicitor, asking indignant questions. 1 " The little hussy ! They've put up that job between them. And just because Well, never onind. Anyhow, I don't want her confounded 'story! It's no more fit for the " Upshot " thar I it's for the "Nineteenth Century.' 1 What I want to know is: Have I gol to oay for it?" I The lawyer, aa it happened. hp.<3 drawn the proprietor's agreement wit! his editor, and had not forgotten it* terms. " I'm afraid so," he said. "You em- . powered Mr Effingham to enter inU contractsof this kind on your behalf." ""But it's a trick, I tell you — a pui up jib." I "A put-np job? You mean a conspiracy? That would be a defence U the action, no doubt. But it isn'l enough to allege conspiracy. It has t< be proved. Tou haven't informed m« of the exact circumstances of the case Hadn't you better* do 6O You woulc have to relate 'them in the witness-bos and " j But the ordeal of the witneras-boj had no attractions for Mr Quidnunc Even to his confidential legal advisei he had no desire to confess that hi had had his face slapped for making love to another man's fiancee. Better" after all, to pay than to be cross-ex-aminrd and made to look ridiculous. " I'll think about it," he said, am; sent the solicitor away ; and then, lef< alone, he stamped and swore again, exclaiming: . "Oh, that little huesy ! She's gol her wedding present out of me aftei all." I =