A SHORT STORY.

Waipa Post, Volume VII, Issue 340, 14 August 1914, Page 6

A SHORT STORY.

(In Three Parts.) (All Rights Reserved.) FIFTY POUNDS REWARD.

By L. T. MEADE, Author of ‘Drift,” “The Sanctuary Club,” “The Brotherhood of the Seven Kings,” “The Medicine Lady,” “Stories of the Red Cross,” &c.

PART I. “I will give,” said Mr. Walter Seabrook, “fifty pounds reward. Yes, I know it is a big sum, but I must attract attention. Let the thing be advertised in the “Times,” the “Standard,” the “Daily Telegraph,” and all the big dailies. Let it be repeated every day for at least a week, that is, unless the goods are returned. You understand me, Heriot. Don’t delay an instant. I would give one hundred—two hundred pounds to get the jewel-case back.” Mr. Seabrook strutted out of the room. He was a stout, red-faced manxof about sixty years of age. His eyes protruded slightly, and were bloodshot. He had a firm mouth.

James Heriot, detective, one of the keenest private detectives in the whole of London, sat for a time thinking very carefully. Then he touched a bell by his side, and a slim, pale, dark-eyed girl answered the summons.

“I want you to take this advertisement down from my dictation,” said Heriot. “Send copies to all the dailies with the necessary money. See that the thing goes out before lunch to-day, and be as quick as you possibly can.” The girl said “Yes,” in a low voice, and James Heiiot dictated as follows:

“Fifty pounds reward.—-Lost between South Kensington and Regent’s Park a small jeweller’s box, marked with the words Denvers Bros., New York. Box contains four diamonds, twelve turquoises, and a pearl brooch. The above reward will be paid on returning above to 14, Crouch-lane, Fetter-lame, E. C.”

The girl took down the description without a word, although had anyone noticed her that person might have seen her start very perceptibly. She went into her own office, wrote out the advertisement and sent it off immediately to the different newspapers. It would appear the next day. The girl’s name was Flavia Lascelles. She was partly of French extraction. Her hair was too/black, her eyes too dark, her skin too smooth a brown for purely English parentage. She was a bright, clever girl, quite a favourite in the office. She did her work to the satisfaction of everyone; no one had a complaint to make of her. Her fellow-typists now' looked at her somewhat curiously. “Are the secrets more wonderful than ever, Miss Lascelles?” said a girl called Rose Brunton, smiling as she spoke.

“Oh, no, things are dull this morning,” replied Flavia. Rose glanced at her companions. They did not believe what Miss Lascelles was saying. Why had she spots of colour in her cheeks, and why were her eyes so suspiciously bright? She went out at the usual time for lunch, and when office hours were over she returned to her home. Flavia Lascelles had a tiny suite of rooms in a workman’s flat in Bermondsey. The rooms were situated a good way from the office where she worked, but the air was comparatively’ pure and the flat was comparatively cheap. She had furnished it herself in the simplest fashion. She spent very little time there, When she left in the morning she always took the key in her pocket, and when she went back at night she generally brought her dinner with her from an eating-house near by. She was not a particularly strong girl, and when she had attended to her small household matters she invariably went to bed. She was tired and slept soundly until morning. On this particular night she got home at her usual hour. She went into her room and sat down by the table. She -had neglected her d:nner. Presently she heard a tap at her door. She said “Come in,” and a woman of about thirty years of age, whose name was Mrs. Lawson, entered. “Why, Flavia,” she said, “where’s your dinner? Why aren’t you eating? Are ,you took bad with the headache my dear?” “No it isn’t that,” said Flavia, looking up with bright eyes. “It’s only ; that I’m not hungry.” “He’s downstairs,” said the woman. “Would you like to see him?” The girl’s face turned very white. “Do you think I’d better?” she asked ,rather anxiously. “Better? Why, of course. I’ve been keeping him waiting for an hour or more. He’s nearly mad. I never saw anything like it in the whole course of my life.” “Then you had better ask him to walk up, Mrs. Lawson, and if he stays too long and I can t get rid of him, why I’ll just call out to you.” ® “Stamp on the floor, honey, and I’ll hear,” said the woman. She left the room, and a moment later the door was burst open and a thin man, very like the girl in ap-

pearance, came in. He did not kiss her, or shew any delight as seeing her. He sank down on a chair, flinging his hands to his sides, and looking straight into her face. • “ I can’t stand of life any longer,” he said. ‘Are you going to help me or are you not?” ‘‘What do you mean, Andre?”

“You know what I mean. I want to get out of England. There are fine chances now for men of my stamp in South Africa. I want to go there. You never help me now—never.”

“I earn two guineas a week.” “You earn it” He said the words with a sneer. “What does that amount to, when you might get fifty?”

“Yes, but I earn this, and honestly,” she replied, “and I give' you ten shillings each week —one quarter of my earnings. I can’t and won’t do more; and another thing, I won’t go back to the old ways. I must and will be respectable. Detective ricriot won’t, give me work if I don’t look the lady.” “The lady!” he answered, laughing at her. “Yes, Andre, you needn’t sneer. In some ways, for all my wickedness, I have the heart of a lady. I had when mother was alive, and when baby was born. When I looked at babv I ”

She burst into a pass'on of tears. “‘You pass yourself off ns an unmarried woman, and yet you have a husband, and, according to the world’s code, not too respectable a one. And you had a child, and the child died- —Jout it was yours all the same. If I liked I could go to the office and tell things about you.” “Are you mad, Andre ” she asked.

“I am very nearly mad,” he answered. ‘I have been trying to get honest work. You may laugh, but I have. If I can’t live'in one way I will in another. If I can’t live honest I will live dishonest. I’ve made up my mind, and I want to tell you so.”

She saw that there was something new about him, and looked at- f

him in distress.

“ You remember that n’ght after you got well of the fever and I told you that the baby was dead and buried?” She turned white as a sheet. “Yes, don’t remind ihe of it.” “Dead and buried,” continued the man, and he laughed in a low, chuckling voice. “You raved and raved, and you got the fever back; you were like to die yourself.” “I wish I had died. Where’s the good of reminding me of that awful past, Andre.”

“Because I want to confess something. The child ain’t dead.” “What!” shrieked the girl.

Her cry was sharp and clear; it pierced like a sword.' The man put his hands to his ears. She took him by the shoulders and shook him; fhen she drew down her face close to his; her eyes were like the eyes of a famished wolf.

“Say that again, and I‘ll tear you limb from limb,” she cried. j

“\ r ou. are a goose, Flavia. Why should you get into such a fury. You were ill, and there was a lady who wanted to adopt a child. She was disappointed at having no children of her own. She saw our child and took a liking to it and I —l sold, it to her. Oh, I knovV where she lives; I could tell you if I pleased. You can see your baby again if I will it. What is, the matter, Flavia?” •

“You don’t leave this room alive until you tell me where the child

“It’s silly to talk like that, Flavia, and I’m not afraid of you. I will tell you everything when you give me——” “What?”

“Two hundred pounds.”

“An'dre!”

Flavia sank down on her chair.; her passionate rage left her. Sh®T felt cold and chill and heavy. Fo|| a time she was almost incapable ora feeling. Then her heart beat hard. She went up again to the man. “Fifty pounds,” she said. “I could give you fifty pounds to-mor-row.”

“Fifty pou.ios? ■ You have fifty pounds saved?” “No, I haven’t, but I can give it to you to-morrow if you will give me the lady’s address and let me go for the child.” “No.” he answered. “Two hundred pounds —not a penny less. I can’t go to Africa with nothing. I will clear out and leave you and the child to make the best of your lives together if you get me the money. You and the child—it is a pretty one now. ft has a look of you, Flavia; we called it Flavia, didn’t we? You can have it, and I will promise never to worry you again. But not a penny less —you understand?” The man strode towards the door.

“I have a chance out yonder,” he said. “You shall have the child’s address for two hundred pounds. You know how to get it—with your pretty face and your nimble fingers. You can steal it, girl. You have done it before now. Go round to Jonathan Wheeler; you have been to his shop before now. He will shew you the way. The chance of prison! Faugh! You have no spirit. If you love your child you know how to get the money.” - He slammed the door after him and stumbled downstairs.

Flavia sat very still after he had left her.

“To think that I could ever have loved him,” she murmured. (To be Continued.)