A SHORT STORY.

Waipa Post, Volume VII, Issue 336, 31 July 1914, Page 6

A SHORT STORY.

By ELLEN LEYS,

(All Rights Reserved.^

In Three Parts.

A SCRAP OF PAPER.

I Aui...' of “Sunrise at Cedarlawn, 5 ' ,“His First Offence,’’ “Miss Robinson’s Will,” “Phyllis Vere’s Picnic,” *“A Race For a Fortune,” &c.

PART I. “Is he seriously ill, doctor?” The girl, pale, brown-eyed, concerned, stood on the doorstep of a great mansion in Cromer Gardens, looking up into the physician’s face. “Yes—yes. Pneumonia has followed on influenza, as I feared it would. At his age, and with his constitution, there’s no saying. You’ll need a nurse. I’ll send one at once. And—are his affairs in order?” “Do you mean—” “Has he made his will?” “I don’t know. > I could never dare to ask.” “What relatives are there besides you V ’ “None that I know of.” “Well—well. I know his lawyer. I’ll say a word to him. Pity if things should go wrong. Watch over him till the nurse comes. Don’t let him sit up or talk, keep the room at an even temperature—it’s all right now— and don’t admit visitors.” .

The great man nodded, gave the girl a kind look, and entered his motor brougham. The girl, troubled and nervous, into the house, crept up the broad staircase, and softly entered the sick-room.

As she caught sight of the patient she gave a little cry.

The old man was sitting up in bed, his face flushed, his eyes shining, his heavy brows drawn together in a frown. As the girl appeared he lifted a thin white hand, with slender fingers crooked, and beckoned to her. She hastened to his bedside.

“My fountain-pen—-get it out of my coat pocket—and—listen—”— the voice quivered and broke—“my pocket-book, too, and—unlock my desk .—key in my waistcoat pocket— lefthand —some loose notes lying just inside—be quick!” “But—uncle—the doctor said ”

“Let him say! He’s going to send a nurse—l know—a man—l insisted on that. Do as 'I bid you—while my strength lasts —I must—go, child!”

The two last words were uttered with a fervour of command that was quite irresistible.

Enid Harcourt brought the pen and J the pocket-book, found the key of the desk, sought the papers, and returned , to the sick man. She realised that op-! position from her was useless, and that the invalid’s best chance of repose lay, in his first easing his mind of the task he wished to complete. She understood with quick sympathy what help he required, and arranged cushions and pillows to support her uncle’s back, while she firmly held the blo'l-ting-pad for him to write on. With the rapidity and precision of a trained thinker, whose mind remains clear and steadfast even while the feeble body is ravaged by disease, Oswald Rochester indicted on a page of his note-book certain characters and abbreviated words, seeming to refer to the loose notes for some portion of the formula he was writing out, and to be writing other portions from memory, for he paused now and again to think deeply, then, rallying himself, resumed writing.

The whole inscription rowed only one page of his note.book, wi a neat, small writing. At the end, the old man, whose name as a chemist w.u known in four continents, placed a hieroglyphic signature, and signed to his niece to tear the page out of the book. The effort had lasted but ten minutes, but it had exhausted him completely. Enid had to bend her ear close to his lips to catch his next instructions.

“Put it by careful’}’ —take it your own self to Vaughan and Denham--give it into his own hands —get a receipt. Tell him not to open it—while I live. My secret—my great discovery—oh, that I may yet live!” He sank back, his face vivid, his forehead covered with moisture. Enid softly wiped his brow with a fine handkerchief, persuaded him to sip the restorative the doctor had prescribed, then rang lor the housekeeper. Mr. Rochester, had always stoutly declined the services of a valet. He had been used to helping himself all his life, and he had lived very, plainly. He occupied a big house simply that he might have room to work. One entire floor served him as laboratory. The largest room in the house was his library. His domestic staff consisted of a housekeeper and her maids. When the housekeeper, a trusted servant, appeared, Enid told her quietly of the journey she had to take, and left her to mount guard till the nurse should arrive.

Her uncle’s eyes were upon her all the time, seeming to reproach her with delay.

“I am going now—at once,” she whispered consolingly, as she bent over him. I’ll make all possible speed.” * Then she went to her own room, put on a walking costume, counted a few shillings in her purse to make sure she had enough for her short journey, carefully placed the precious scrap of paper in an envolope, ad-

dressed it to Professor Vaughan, and sealed it. For a moment she hesitated how to carry the note most securely, then decidely to wear a little bag Which she could fasten with a strap round her waist underneath her coat.

“Far safer so than in my pocket or in my, little handbagj” she said to herself; and With one glance at her mirror to see that her fur cap was straight, Enid left her uncle’s house and walked to the nearest Tube station.

Enid had been to Denham often with letters to her uncle’s confidential friend, and she knew her way to the Great Central. She commonly used the Tube, as being quick and cheap, for although the niece of a wealthy man, she was only a dependent, and came and went chiefly as his messenger, v always enjoined to be saving of and money. The Tube possessed for her lately a sort of mysterious romance. She always wondered, since one day of adventure,, whether she would meet a certain young- man who often, chanced in the absurdest way to be using the electric railway just as she was. The day on which she had first become conscious of his personality, though she remembered afterwards that she had seen him without observing him frequently before, was one on which she had lost her umbrella. It was a new one, a Christmas present from her uncle. It was silver-mounted, and had a silver band on which her name and address were engraved. The gift was an unusually handsome ofie for her, to receive, and her uncle had warned her to be careful of it, telling her that it ought to last her for years. Enid had used it for the first time on New Year's Day. On alighting at Oxford Circus she missed her new possession, and cried out in dismay, “Oh, my umbrella!” A man close beside her heard the cry, grasped the situation, darted hack into the moving train, and called out to her to await his return. In ten minutes he was back, umbrella in hand, and the girl thanked him with so much warmth that he was forced to disclaim any special merit in having served her. From that day, however, a speaking acquaintance had naturally ensuefl, and Enid often found herself wondering about the nameless stranger, guessing at the occupation that gave him so much liberty, judging on his social status, and even trying to glumb the depths of his morals. His manners, she granted, were quite unobjectionable; he had not been guilty of the least presumption.

* Sure enough, as Enid was passing on after taking her ticket to Marylebone, she heard close behind her the voice of the young man demanding one to Oxford-circus. She glanced back involuntarily and encounted his look. He raised his hat, smiling. She bowed, and hurried to the lifts.

There was quite a throng of passengers waiting and the lift gates were long in opening. Afraid of being late for her train, Enid glanced up for a clock,, but could not see one.

“The time? It’s a quarter to twelve,” the man at her elbow informed her.

“Really? Oh. I wish they’d be quick!”-

“You have to catch a train?” “The twelve-fifteen at the Central.” “You’ll do it—unless, indeed, there are any delays on the line.” “Oh, I hope not! it’s most important. I have something very precious to deliver, and every minute counts. How long they are!” “ The time always seems long when we are waiting. Would you rather take a taxi?” ‘•Oh.no, thank you.” She could n'ot confide to the stranger* that she had not the price of a taxi to spare. Just then the gates opened, and she was hustled into the lift by a surge of "passengers. She found herself standing. a little breathless, and very uncomfortably crushed,, close to the side of the lift. Some women whom she had noticed already, dressed in smart, finery, .talking inanities and giggling, m company with a man also wearing flashy clothes and smelling of cigar smoke, were pressing on her. Suffocat-, ed and gasping for breath,she feared she was going to faint. A strong arm encircled her* giving her its support; a voice requested the ill-mannered gang to keep off.' The giggling increased ; foolish comments were whispered loudly. Enid was faintly aware that coarse witticisms were being levelled at her and her protector. The sense of having excited the ridicule of these vulgaf people covered her with confusion.

Her color rose painfully. She made a strong effort to overcome her weakness and withdrew herself from the stranger’s hold. In another moment the platform was reached, and Enid moved forward with the rest of the crowd, believing the unknown to be close behind her, and intending to thank him for the help needed yet disliked. But instead of joining her, the young man appeared to avoid her. He passed by her, disregarding an empty seat beside hers, which was immediately afterwards seized, and stood at the further end of the comp’artment, holding on to the overhead straps, and feigning to be absorbed in his newspaper.

To be Continued.)