"STAR" TALES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9789, 4 March 1910, Page 4

"STAR" TALES.

AJN ARTISTIC CHEAT. <By SJBi? WILLIAM MAGNAY, Bart.) "The Red Chancellor." "A '"'". Prince of Lovers," etc. # [All Rights B.esebvi:id.] ~.„' "I couldn't have told where the man ; «4nie from. All 1 know is that, as .1 >at sketching, 1 suddenly became aware of a presence looking over my shoulder. .One is used to that when working in cthe open. The overlooking is not exactly pleasant, but this is a tree country." "Effective little bit, that," he observed, presently. I agreed with him and went on working. '"May I criticise?" he ventured, after another interval. -, I turned and looked at the maker of xhe cool request. He was a dark little man, with bold eyes, a slightly aquiline nose, and a dropping moustache. An intelligent face, certainly; with a hint of latent energy behind its rather bored expression. He yas dressed in a dark ■art and wore a soft felt hat. His manner had in it a suggestion of loafing; while, as to his calling, I would not have hazarded a guess. He might have been, anything or nothing—the latter, jjor preference. '■"" Certainly, if you wish," I answered in* a tone which conveyed no undertaking to be bound bv his criticism. ■ ; v " You'd, improve the sketch," he ?aidy undaunted by my coldness, iljliwhwh is good enough to pay for being vou'd just wash down your Wghrlighte—they're a trifle strong just' tbfttWfcfrh* held out and waggled his thumb '"after the professional manner. " : Andt if: I were you I'd introduce a bit of colour, say a" few poppies or cornthe foreground on the left ■th.4tb?4he eye is taken too much by the '•tro&# flights in the middle distance." •r'l-sa.# ; .in a moment that his hint was «forth taking and I thanked him. ; t w Perhaps you were going to do it. steeped, with more tact than I rtfaidvßftVe given him credit for. V £'%o t I'm afraid I wasn't; but it I replied. "You are. Vp*iiri*rP" , ... T ■llly -'friend shook his head. "IS ever Staked "ftrr thumb into a palette in *y W. Mi I know something about v ,ilXiwitic?" His get-up did not belie say so." he answered (viaS*:- "I've studied art: certain \3wfa particularly; the Spanish more particularly. And a very curious ad*sntur'».the Spanish school once let me tn'sfor.'' , ~~ T ~

\ " Got a pip© of tobacco?" he asked. i'T ministered to his requirements m fchat direction. He filled and lighted his pipe with the deliberation of a man who either is paid by time or to whom time is nothing, seated himself on a ' fefentree, and told me this story. . li'iopd'manv years ago T was living Ikriladxid. I had a mission there, the jft&S3>f which, political or otherwise, ffi.jßs6aa& to do with my story. Jn *»t€cFa.close friendship with Senor Ittherra., the keeper of the Museo. My bMiness wae something of a waiting &wiiei ;i ind I often complained that fime m'that city of dust and glare ■mtk Keavr on my hands. So one day ffioW^ 1 suggested that ns -I had no- : Ihlnfe particular to do, I should un,tsffcake;at the city's expense an. artistic *fr < iTh&-- '.-Marquess tie Santo Puzol has i&Ted vlb, an Alonzo Cano. He says )f% v l| lf «&ninoent example of the mas- . but straightened cirgumirtances would induce him to part \with7 He asks a big price. '"Tf v #e picture is all he says it is Vorth jti' and we ought to secure it. Tour iufflbnent of Canos is as good as ftatiofptay expert I know. Suppose jro'ri run'over to Leon and report i* The free trip was tempting. 111 &■£■'■s. replied. "Who is the mar-qn&B&?'-!i'):• ~ . . , , ?' f iOh. one of our old impoverished Grandees," Riberra answered. "You'll Iwobably find him in a. magnificent diapidated ca«tle, full of works of art, canvases and plate, and living on an • omalette, but with a rare bottle of wine for visitors. Tt will he an interesting if uncomfortable experience. il've looked up the records, and have -traced the picture to his possession. So , it is not a fool's errand. There remains only the question of its condition, which wilt affect the price." ~The couMrnssion suited me, for Jve always loved to be on the move, and the next morning but one I started for It was not a lively journey, partly by ■low,' evilly-appointed trains, and the last five or six leagues by carriage. And it poured with rain all clay, giving me reason to appreciate the forethought |>f mv friend Ribbera in sending me as flis deputy. However, after jolting for hours over Vile roads, I, got to the place at last, and found it pretty much what Riberra me for. The castle was A great'rambling building covering a lot of ground, set in a regular wilderji«es gardens and plantaeona. And that rainy evening, you it, ,jt looked particularly dismal. I bavej however, knocked about the world too much to let weather and rough accommodation dismay me. Riberra bad written to announce my coming, «nd wheal the big doors were thrown open frsav that I was expected. The Seat "house was shabby, with a sort «f"Haded grandeur; there was something interesting in, that, however, and tm curiosity was sharpened ag to what ihe : iiraaates were like. With a good futile ceremony and flourish I by "a somewhat out-at-#fbowij major-domo, whose face did not finprea* me favourably, into a room JrhW"'sat four people, three men and « young lady, a regular beauty, I can tefl yohThe marquess, a man about fifty, mirfldtWftd himself with a certain amount itfj-the'inevitable pomposity his eon thinks it necessary to affect, then the one of his cousins, Don riilva de Santa Purol; the thud, to my BO email astonishment by an English |Ufcn»iyß6nor Hamilton Graham, and >3«y3he lady. «* ]lis daughter. < f, 2A$ an Englieknan, senor, lie said, ■mrtpouely will bo gratified to E«fa*ieiiow countryman." "V!\ said something polite, wondering it the same time what on earth my did at that out-of-the-way mouldy old castle. > Ag we chatted I took m at my leisure lie company in which I found myself. No: J" dad not like the looks of Don Siv*-.,They «ay blood will tell, but all it toM- me there was that the Don Wa» of many a rascal 1 Ed Seen in tne less reputable haunts *fcMadrid. As to the character of the mmrquem, it was so wrapt up m pomSyTnd stately flourishes that the C man was not to be got at under ■ rionth'B scrutiny. The girl was, a.aid, lovely. Her face was ■ ' £tare,:of a Velasquez Madonna with and chic of one of Frarwmard's beauties. And lastly Oia UMn. He was very dressy and talked '< £good deal in the blurting SJW excitement. Ifi him dojn ■m-iticb young fool, and as it tinned ttfc f *mV& « r wrong.

Well, after some light refreshment the marquess, with his eternal flourish, carried me off to see the Alonzo Cano. It hung in a gloomy, musty-smelling gallwy. Don Silva and Graham ©at* carried a light in an immense silver candles'iok under the direction of tn* marquees, who was too great a swell Uoarry anything except a walking-stick, T suppose, and he acted as showman. The first glance, even in that light, told me the picture was a beauty, an exquisite landscape with figures. I pulled out my glass and examined it closely amid a dead silence. Yes; it was genuine enough, of that I was sure, and in good condition. "Are you satisfied?'' the marquees asked pompously, ns T drew back and shut up my glass. His tone rather suggested that his word should have been sufficient.

"Quite," I answered. "It is a fine example. I should like to have another look at it in the morning." "By all means," my host assented with a stiff Castilian bow. " But daylight has no terrors for n masterpiece like that.' Wo cursorily examined a few more " masterpieces," which the depressing gallery contained, and then wont off to prepare ourselves for dinner. I dare say the character of the place and its inmates prompted me to alertness; anyhow, it struck me as singular that whenever I said a word to Graham the ugly face of Don Silva would be thrust between us. This rather irritated me, for I was very curious to find out why he was there, and not above asking the question, had a chance presented itself. Thinking the matter over in my own room, I came to the conclusion that the fair senonta had a good deal to do with it, and with the idea of watching for a confirmation of my suspicion I went down to dinner. The dining-room was no exception to the other dreary apartments I had seen in the castle. The walls were covered with dead-ami-gone ancestors, verv stiff and scowl iiig after the traditional poee of Spanish Cavaliers. The dinner might have been worse, and the wine, as my friend had foretold, was excellent. When the ladies withdrew (I forgot to say that we had been joined by another and vounger daughter of the house) a perfect poem of a bottle of port-wine was sent round, to which Graham and I, at least, did full justice. After dinner we adjourned to a room which I had not seen before. Unlike the Test of the house it was epsily, almost luxuriously furnished, partaking of the character of a boudoir and a verv comfortable smoking-room. I was at once attracted by a very largepicture which noarly covered one of the walls. Tt was a gambling scene, painted in a rather outre Spanish style. The figures were almost lifesize. In the foreground one of the players, a rather theatrical gentleman —I shall never forget him and his crimson velvet coat—held up his hand of. cards, by way of showing them to a girl who stood at his shoulder, like | this." He illustrated the attitude and the man's expression—the faces of the cards being turned to the spectator. "An extraordinary painting that."! I turned and found the old Marquess at J my side with a curious grin on his face. " From its size and flashy style it attracts attention, hut it really is not worth the consideration of a connoisseur like yourself. The picture has a history apart from its demerits, and so we keep it here, which is not a room of ceremony. You like cards?" He turned away, and I had to turn with him. Something seemed to put me on my guard . Perhaps it was Don Silva's hawklike expression as he mechanically shuffled a pack which lay ready on a small card-table. ' No, I told him, I did not care much about cards. Which was perhaps not strictly true.

" Ah," he exclaimed, with a gesture and chuckle more like a Jew moneylender's than that of a Grandee of Spain, "unlike your compatriot here. Senor Graham is a keen player. He won famously last night." I began to think' there was some-thing-fishy in the" whole business; still it was no affair of mine. I resolved, however, to keep my eyes open. It was not quite conceivable to me that this empty-headed Englishman could win famously from the precious Don j Silva. "Will you be my partner to-night,! Senor Graham?" the elder girl asked, | with a glance which made the idiot look fatuously elated. There was no need for me to seek the reason for his staying there. So they sat down with the Marquess and Don Silva against them. The younger girl took her place on a sofa beneath the great x>icture, and invited me to sit and chat with her. Our small talk was not so absorbing, but that I soon became aware that, in spite of the Marquess's frequent apologies for bad play, Graham was not going to have many winnings to scoop up that night. Presently, as we talked and they played (Graham,, by the way, was beginning to lose heavily, and, of course, like the fool he seemed, to -plunge recklessly), 1 became gradually aware, and by a singular means, of a very strange thing that was going on. We were all smoking, more or lass, the men cigars, the ladies cigarettes. I had finished a cigar of the Marquess's and not caring for the full flavour I thought it well to smoke one of my own, if only to take the heavv taste o'f the other out of my mouth. My cigarcase was of plain silver, the gift—ah, well, that has nothing to do with this story, and as I held it carelessly in my hand its polished surface acted to a certain extent as a mirror. I have said thn.t we were seated with our backs to the big picture. And my position was such that part of the principal figure, the man holding up the cards, was reflected with tolerable clearness on the silver case. It so happened as I held it on my crossed knee that the hand of cards came into focus. Now, it was tho last thing I was thinking of, but, as 1 chatted afray to the Senorita Maddelena in no particular hurry to light up, I became aware —at first without quite realising it—of a singular transformation that was going oil. When ip had fully caught my attention I watched and—what do yon think I saw ? The displayed hand cf cards in the picture was changing. That is to say, the values of the cards held up were altered at .intervals.

At first T doubted my eyes, or, at least, the accuracy of my reflector. Then I wondered whether the old port wine had been too much for me; at last, when the King of Spades gave place, like a magic-lantern slide, to the Ace of Diamonds, I resolved to test whether ] was a fool, or somebody else a knave. "Without going into details. T may say that the resulrt of my sharpened observation went to prove the latter proposition. I ought to have said that Graham who wa.s being so prettily fleeced was sitting with his back to us and to the picture. The position was such that either of us, more particularly the Senorita, could easily see the cards, he

held. And the wonderful part of it was that his principal cards of value appeared represented in the painted hand behind him. It was but natural that* at first I should refuse to believe my eyes, nevertheless I watched, and soon had proof that it was not I but Graham who was being fooled. Haviug discovered the trick, my next | business was to find out how it was worked. Presently my watchfulness pointed to my companion on the sofa, Donna Maddelena, as the culprit. Faugh I I hated to have the suspicion confirmed. That a prettv girl, scarcely out of her teens, of noble family and high breeding (for her style was perfect), should lend herself to such a pieoe of rascality was horrible to contemplate, and of course, the elder girl, Graham's fascinatine; partner, was in the swindle too. Maddelena chatted away to me, laughed,, told me stories of life in those parts, affected now and again a sympathetic interest in poor Senor Graham's bad luck, and made it the excuse for peeping at his cards when lie happened to hold them, out of j easy sight. All the time her Tight hand (that farthest from me) was hidden by the folds of her dress, which was spread somewhat over the sofa. Well, I drew my own conclusions, but, right or wrong, the fact was clear that my compatriot was being cheated. By the time I had grasped the whole position he had by his mad plunging and. the run of the play, lost a very large sum, and the more he loßt the more suavely greedy the noble Marquess and the feline Don Sika seemed to get. . I was not goings to stand it. The man was an egregious ass, but his very imbecility called for my protection against these sharping Grandees. As the last hand was being played, with the inevitable accompaniment on the canvas behind me, Donna Maddelena, having concluded her part, rose casuallv, and I took the opportunity of Bcnbbling on a card, "You have been cheated. Don't pay till I have a word with you." * This I took the opportunity of giving him with a significant squeeze on the arm. " I will write you a draft for your winnings," he said, rather sobered by the total which Don Silva apologetically jotted down on a leaf from his notebook. "It is deplorable," remarked the Marquess with a courtly flourish, "still we must remember that the luck might have run the other way, and you will admit, my dear young friend, that the high points were your own suggestion." " Oh, it's all right," Graham responded with a foolish laugh. Then Donna Lolo sympathised prettily with him, and that seemed to cheer the j idiot up a little. I Aa Ave went up to bed I took particular notice of the position of Graham's room, and as soon as I thought the household had retired, I, with no amiable reflections on the man's folly, sought him out through the horribly draughty corridors and lost no time in explaining to him the modus operandi ( of the swindle. As I had half expected, 3 the fool flatly refused to believe me. He declared that every member of the noble family was the soul of honour, and when I insisted he rather insinuated that an extra glass of old port wine had made me see the cards move. "It's preposterous, my dear sir," he maintained, with all a stupid man's obstinacy. " How could things in a picture alter?'' " Easily, if it paid, as it has tonight, to make them move," T replied. " Optical illusion is much easier,'' he sneered. I had a mind to take no more heed of him and his loss; but I felt piqued and on my mettle to prove my assertion. "I am ready to prove it," I said, " and I am going to do so for my own satisfaction. The least you can do is to come with me." Ho looked at me half contemptuously and then at his bed longingly. " All right," he said resignedly, "only look sharp; I'm dog-tired." I took an unlighted candle and a box of matches, and we stole out of the room. . Luckily the moon lighted up the corrjdors and staircase, and we found our way, pretty easily to the card-room. It ■ was dark there. I lighted the candle and set about my investigation without loss of time. A verv brief search gave mo the proof I desired. This is'what I discovered. Jn the boss of the thickly-padded sofa was a handle studded with buttons and connected with a very fine electric wire. This flex ran down from the sofa through the floor and was doubtless connected with mechanism at the back of the picture which worked the changes in the cards. I pressed a button. The painted cards, which were evidently arranged in a revolving circle behind a cleverly disguised opening in the picture moved. The Queen of Clubs on the left disappeared, the next card took its place, and on the right appeared the ace of hearts. " Are you satisfied?" I ivhispered to Graham." "Work the trick yourself." '•' Couldn't have believed it of them," he said foolishly, as he manipulated the contrivance. "I'm certain, though, that Donna Lola doesn't know of it." Argument was clearly useless with him, and I refrained from it. " Let's slip hack quietly," I said, blowing out the candle. The room was now pitch dark. I heard Graham knock something over

with a "damn!" "This way," I said in a low voice, making for the door. Next instant I was brought up sharply a,s I ran against it. It was open. When I had blown the light out it was shut. Recovering "myself after the unexpected knock I stretched out my arms and caught hold of my companion, whom I had not imagined to be so close to me. "Come!" I whispered. Then. "You fool!" I cried, as he threw me off not too gently. " What the— ; —" "Pardon, senor!" quite another voice hissed at me. Next moment a hitherto concealed light shone forth, and T saw, to my dismay, that it had been the Marquess whom I had laid hold of, while behind him, holding up a bull'e-eye lantern, which showed the ugly grin on his face, wa's Don Silva. Neither was the Marquess's expression pretty, but his manner was perfect. "A million pardons," he cried with a deprecating flourish. "We thought we heard robbers down here, and it is perhaps only natural that in th» darkness we should have taken you for such." By that time I had my wits about me, "1 am sorry to have disturbed you, Marquess," t said, with a readv excuse. '' I left my cigar-case down here, and not knowing my way about the house Senor Graham was good enough to conduct me." "Ah!" The Marquesas grin gave me the lie as plainly as words could havo done. "It would have been safe here till morning," he said suavely. '' We have no thieves in my poor house, senor."

I accepted the amazing statement with a bow. " Assuredly, Marquess. But I wanted to smoke." "Ah! Soj"' The monosyllable merely proclaimed what a ready liar lie considered me. "Well, having recovered your oase," he added with stiff pomposity, "senor, you will, I am sure, see the propriety of returning to your room. It is disturbing to feel that mv guests are wandering about the house in the middle of the night." "By all means," I responded, and made a move towards tho door. "Come, Graham." " Pardon !" Don Silva's sharp voice arrested us. Even in that light I could see he had an evil grin on his face and an evil gloain in J) is eyes. " Senor Graham will, as we have met again so unexpectedly, forgive me if I mention a small matter of business. I start for Cordova at an early hour in the morning, undoubtedly before you will care to rise. May I therefore ask now for a settlement of the account between us? I am ashamed to name it, but the opportunity serves." Graham looked at me rather helplessly. So I took up the affair. "Senor Graham, under my advice, declines to pay what lie did not fairly lose." Probably the refusal was not unexpected. "The Senor is pleased to jest," Don Silva returned with his abominable grin. "The Senor will explain himself," said the Marquess. "Be good enough to close the door. Silva." "Certainly," I replied' calculating that boldness was best. " 1 am sorry to have to say so, but we are aware that Senor Graham has been cheated at the card-table, and the proof is here." I stepped quickly to the sofa and caught up the electric handle. "It is a pretty contrivance, but I feel sure you will not expect Senor Graham under the circumstances to regard the game seriously." By this time the Marquess had worked himself up into a fierce fury. " You insinuate that under my honourable roof this gentleman has been cheated 1" he almost screamed. "You, a beggarly picture valuer dare to insult my name which has been borne unsullied by a hundred generations. To insult a Santa Puzol has before now been to court death, and even now I am not too old to avenge my honour. Cheat 1 Gods, a Santa Puzol, a cheat!" "It would be well. Marquess," I torted, "to explain away that ingenious contrivance before claiming to be a man of honour." "Silva! You hear?" he cried, flinging up his hands. " The man is mad! No. I have it, he thinks to get my picture at his own price by threatening my honour. Out of the house, insolent dog!" he shouted, gesticulating wildly, "before I shoot you dead." I recognised that my immediate departure was the only course open. I walked towards the door.

"Out with the fellow," cried the Marquess. I shook off Don Silva's grip on my arm. " Keep your dirty hands off me," I commanded; and we went out into the hall. "This way," said the precious Don Silva, preceding me along a corridor, then down some eteps, and through another long passage at the end of which he opened a door and stood stiffly for me to pass. Instead, however, of going out into the open air, I found myself in a small square room with a barred window. At the same moment the door was pulled to sharply and the key turned. I was a prisoner. "So much for interesting myself in other people's affairs," I told myself ruefully, and sat down to review the situation. As the result 1 came to the conclusion that my noble host's likely plan would be to keep me there out of the way until they had forced a draft out of Graham and got it safely cashed. More than that, even in Spam, they would scarcely dare to do. Still my situation was not enviable, and I set about seeing whether it were not to be improved. Apart from my idea of danger, I was very angry, and determined to escape and checkmate these aristocratic swindlers if I could. There was another door to the room. 1 tried it. Locked, of course. Then I laughed, for I saw a chance. The lock, was inside, an old-fashioned projecting one, held to the doors by screws. Now the reason of my laughing was the remembrance that in my pocket was a knife adapted to many uses and fitted at olio end with a screwdriver. That vade mecuin made all the difference between durance and liberty. ft was rather stiff work, but in. a quarter of an hour the Bcrew.s were out, the lock off, and the door open. Beyond, the bright moonlight failed mo. I struck a match, and saw before m© a larger room, with a great window, and littered with canvases and painting materials. I suppose it was my artistic predilections which made me even in that situation take notice of them. Anyhow, a casual glance at one canvas on" an easel made me strike matches and scrutinise the others more curiously. Tt was a copy of the Alonzo Cano in the gallery, tho picture I had gone there to report upon. Dven the signature was reproduced, and the canvas was faked and in an old frame. In fact, only an expert could have told the copy from the original, so minutely was it imitated. More wonderful still, on another easel was a second copy, unfinished, of the same picture, inference was obvious. The purchaser

of the original Oano would doubtless find himself the possessor of a copy, if, that is, he ever suspected the shuffle. "Well, for an out-and-out thief commend me to the most noble Marquess de Santa Ptizol," I muttered, as I made my way, without further difficulty, ottt of the precious workshop. A few moments reflection convinced me that my best course was to get back to Madrid with all haste. Singlehanded I could scarcely hope to be of any help to Graham, and might not get free again so easily if caught. The Marquess and his family evidently meant business, and—l knew rather too much to feel safe in their hands. Well, that's tho story. • I got to Madrid somehow, wearing an old slouch hat I picked up in that interesting "studio," reported :%tters to my friend Riberra and also to the police. I don't know what steps they took with respect to that interesting specimen of their old nobility, but next day whom should I meet in the Prado" but Graham, well and hearty. " So you got away all right?" he remarked. " Rather a sell for Don Silva. They compounded with me for their winnings for two thousand reales, and started me off last night. I dare say they thought you'd make things unpleasant for them." "No doubt," I agreed. "It was an infernal swindle," he remarked. " But I'm certain of one thing," he added, with the air of a man unconvinced and unconvincible. "What's that?" "The girls knew nothing of it." It was useless to argue. The fellow was either too dense or ashamed to be convinced, and after all no man likes to have his romance exploded. It is, perhaps, -unnecessary for me to add that the Museo at Madrid iB still without that desired example of Alonzo Cano. On the other hand, I have met it in the galleries of two American millionaires, and it hangs also in the din-ing-room of a financial magnate in Park Lane.