The Threefold Call

Western Star, Issue 930, 14 March 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

The Threefold Call

( Continued.)

As w© crossed the pavement I nearly stumbled against a woman who was standing looking up at the windows of the house. I saw her as in a dream, and just remembered that I bad seen the same person once before near the same spot, and that my attention lad been attracted to her by the bold look and half smile with which shia met and passed me; a youngish, not badly-featured woman, but clayey cojmplexioned and heavy lipped; dressed in good stuff, carelessly arranged. My eye rested on her a moment, and I wondered, in- a hazy sol't of way what her business there might be; but roy mind was too full of one thought to afford room for than aixhpment to, any other. As we rattled eastward in a cab it occurred to me, again to inquire how Moms. had found me out. VThat is the curious thing” he repeated. “It was a dream 1 had. You see I was concerned about the, p<?<s gentleman, lying there, no one to claim him, and give him decent and friendly burial, nor no clue to bis belonigings—a person I h d known, as it weiie—and I might be thinking of him when I went to bed—l can’t say—but 1 direpmed of him. I thought 1 was sitting ini the, bar, and he came in, just asipen biff do in the and coining oyer to TOO bo gave me a can}, .and soid—‘Send for him; tjell him I’m here.’ A home, and address wqa written on the card, with some flourishes about the words—sort of witting it was,, but plain, so plain I could read it as easy as print—and I thought I read it. oyer carefully, and juit as 1 had done so 1 awoke with the thuig quite clear on my mind. ‘ Beginaid South, 88 Jermyn street, Bloomsbury 1 —! said it oyer to myself two, or thfgs limes, and when A rose in the morning "I wrote it down on this bit of - pappy.” *' W»S the. card anything like this P” I aikcd, producing one from my case. S. The very identical I Now, that if curious; it Is, and no mistake. 'Well, I went about dll forenoon, wondering if there could be anything in it, or if it would be a fool’s errand to go as, far as Bloomsbury looking for something I bad dreamed about; At long and: at length I made up my mind to go, and you see there was something in it. I'ro whopped,, but it’s the most cuyious thing as ever happened to me.” “A threefold call,” thinking, of the name perfiyiently suggested to me, d the k reflation ip, the studio, and. now of this dream of Morris’s, “ Best, perturbed spirit, I come.” *’ Whktdldyou.say sir?” “ A stranne affair, Morris,”

it is, aod.no mistake." as Wb olignted at Thomas Morris's: door, apd had not far to walk to the station. Of course I found my friend there, lying almost aa'l hadaeph, but not. quite. Hie breast was covered by the torn and soiled shirt j the ragged dap of the waistcoat was laid in its place j the Bcajr. cm hie cheek was lees distinct, and there was no red hand tying bis legs together,' ‘‘The, caught first on hie ohqqli” explained the superintendent, and then, got firmly caught in his Jothes.”

" Dragl" I repeated in a dated sort of way. “ Tllie accident,” he explained fur* thcr, “ was observed by two dragomen, but r before. they could get him out life wa%esiihqfc.” “A'Ccidont r I said, inquiringly.

‘‘•Yes, certainly, accident,” he said. M, I made arrangements for getting the body taken home at once, and. was hurfyjng.away (J tq look, up an undertaker, when, as we crossed through the-yaedt a waterman, after speaking a word to Morris, came , forward, and touching his bat, said—“lt was me and my mate as. brought him.out,” sir.’ ' m tny purse, he continuejlp, “ You seeJoeandme were dragging for another as dropped from a barge two days ago, and chancing, op it were, to Ippkaloug the water to where there, was* ( tih9 gleam of a lamp on it, I saw a punt with a man in it j then the punt wobbied, and the man fell over. VVe pullyd, Jop. and me, to ihe spot, with a w}U r and: there was the pant, bat no signs of the pesson. It was a good half hour;or we got bold of ’im—and —and—sir,” as I was fingering some money, “there was this knotted about his legs—which—that is—pr’aps you would as soon have now’t said about it,” producing a red silk handkerchief with flowers in the corners, which I recognised as my friend’s. “(No” 1 1 said (as 1 agaiu lookout toy purse), it w ill serve no purpose to mention it” “No, sir, in course not, none at all, Was the, reply, us he slipped what I gave him into his pocket, and turned away to Join a similar to his own which was. visible through the thickening iLwiligbt a few steps away. Ah, then—Alfred Lawn had not lost his life, but bad cast it away, There is my.case.for the gentlemen of the lPsychological Research. I have furnished them with the facts, and with my name and address, those of Mr Thomas Moris'being equally at their service. Any further iuformationl am willing to give, if 1 have it —aqy reasonable questions 1 am ready to answer. Some brief account of the •we I you tell we, will probably appear

in the next published volume of the society’s “Transactions.” How will they clabsily it ? Asa case of thought transference? Under that head I Would without hesitation place it myself. In ordinary life the sight or sound first impiesses the sense organ -—the eye or the ear —and is thence carried to the brain, and from the brain by some mysterious, and as yet unknown “ nexus ”to the mind. In cases of thought transference —when au idea, that is to say, is transferred from one mind to another without any material go-between—the process is supposed to be reversed. The idea flows from the mind to the brain, from the brain along the sensory nerves to the ©ye or the ear, and becomes localised outwardly in what seems a material embodiment of the idea which had been impressed upon the mind. This may result in something either seen or heard, or in something dreamt of, which has really no objective existence, properly speaking, but yet is not at all subjective in the usual meaning of that term.

Well, from whose or what mind was the idea transferred to mine of Alfred Lawn as he had kin in the watermen’s boat, before his clothes were arranged, the mud wiped from his face, or the red band removed from his feet ? or to Thomas Moris’s mind, while he slept, the idea pf my address card with such detail that be, could remember it distinctly when he awoke 1 or, with less perfect success, to my mind the idea of the sounds which composed the innkeeper’s name ? I know what A belieye, or rathe? what I know.

But: there are other points on which | would, like some light thrown. Why should my friend, after ridding himself of everything which could lead to his identification, have become so anxious to communicate with me, and to put his poor body uuder my care ? Why (fid I see him in the studio, not as ho was; lying at that moment, but as he must have appeared on the previous evening before the watermen had got the red hahdkorchiof untied and pocketed P And why, when Thomas Moris had been supplied .during the night with the means of reaching me, was it thought necessary next day to summon me by signals addressed both to. eye and ear ? Again, I know, what I conceive,} but I do not wish by any statement whatever, apart from the bare facts of the case, to prejudice the dpliljnrations or forestall the more scientific and probably far more satisfactory finding of tne Society.’ Along with my confused wonder on these points, another question was, troubling me as—(after warmly thanking Thomas Moris for his interest, and promising to see him soon, a promise for the aou-fulfimeut of which I here humbly apologise to that worthy, per, sou)—! stepped again into, the cab lWhat had driven my friend, to this P That fit of gloom, of which this was the climax, was it, a, purely mqutal' disorder, or had it its source in some actual facts of which 1 was ignorant 1' This question was also destined to be answered before I slept on that Christmas night. I. was sitting in my “den,” after the performance of certain sad duties, endeavouring to get back some measure of composure, and again debating whether 1 should wire at once to the rectory, and write by post,or.start for Reigate by the first train, and be the bearer as well as tire teller of my sorrowful tiding#, when the outer door bell was rung, 1 mechanically pulled a handle by means , of which I was able to unlatch the door without rising frqm my seat. The door of my “ aen” stood half open, and the light attracted an. uncertain step towards it. (the door was pushed open, and a woman came two pac* fl forward. It was the flame person I had observed standing opposite the bouse as I wept out with Moris, She was more carefully dressed now; she was, indeed, highly dressed —too highly for my taste. Her face was mote animated, and there was more, colour in it* or on it. A rather gooddo.oking figure and face—-not old, us ; I have said—not aver thirty at most—but sodden-faced and bold-eyed, the unmistakable marks of dissipation in every feature. When she began to speak, I saw at once that flhe was less or more intoxicated. “ I see lam right, 1 ’ she said. “ His chum, as you men say ;” and she giggled. “ You have the advantage of me,” I said, rising to my feet. “ Well, I’ll not have it long, I hot,” she said, leering at me. “ He's in the bouse, isn’t be P Tell Alfred 1 want him."

Something impelled mo to say-** “ Who shall I say wants him P” “ H;s. wife,” she said, boldly j see if he. dares to deny it I” I tottered on my feet. Was this the solution of the mystery ? Poor Affle ! but stop—was Lawn a villain as well as a victim P The end of the ciae had been put into my hand j could I not unwind it? *

“Perhaps you don’t believe?” she stuttered.

“ Will you please to take a seat P” I said, setting one for her. “Do you object to wait a little ♦‘Not at all—it’s,what I mean to—till I get my eyes on him, He should have met me yesterday—and he’s gammoned me to-day too—sq I made up my mind to hunt him Up and We it all out." Sip eat dowo, aad an she

did so her eyes fixed themselves on the brandy bottle, from which 1 had been taking a small sip, and which stood ou a side table. “ You asked me if I did not believe you to be Alfred Lawn’s wife,” I sai 1, suavely; “ well, you know, not being in his confidence—just newly mari ied ?”

“ Oh, dear me, no ; I’m a wife of ten years standing. You would hardly think it now, would you?” “ Hardly. You must both have been young?” “ A mere girl I was ’’ she said, her eyes continuing to seek the decanter. “ Pardon me,” I said, “ but I have a curiosity to know how you came together “And he never told you? N>, 1 suppose he did not want it to be known. Giv© me some of that ” she said, pointing to the brandy, “ aud I’ll tell you the whole story. I’ve no cause to hide it.”

“ Excuse me,” I said, putting bottle and glass to her hand, “help yourselfi ” She poured out a full glass and drank it off at a breath.

Her face became redder, her eyes grew brighter, aud her tongue got looser.

“ You may believe it or not as you like, but I was rather a pretty one then.”

“ Then 1” I said, “ Oh, I’m an old thing now, you know; but you men will flatter. 1 was a professional—music, you know —that’s what 1 am still; and Alfred chanced to see me—took a fancy, fell in love with me, you know, and ran after me, as you men will do. That’s good stuff,” and she helped herself to a half glass, “ And you fell in love with him," I said, repressing my feelings of disgust. “ Well, that’s asjyou may taka it,” giggling. “He got me to marry him, that’s all I will say—and a lovely pair we they said. I lived with him a year or two, but I could a* bear it. Alfred was so soft and straight-laced. Couldn’t bear that you know”—? pointing to the brandy—- “ nor fun of 1 any kind.” “ Ah,” 1 said, “ you found it dull ” “ Hull as ditch water, I had to leave him, and 1 don’t doubt, he was, glad to see my back. 1 couldn’t do with his ways and ,he couldn,tdo with mine. X went back to the jHails, where they were all glad to see me, I bet, and he lost sight of me.” “Ob,” 1 said, shifting back the brandy, after she had taken a third refreshment ; “ and you lost sight of him.”

She gave a drunken laugh. “Don’t you think so. I hated his mealy face; but I kept it in sight W hat did 1 know how soon I might need —. No, no ; 1 had always some onq to tell me where he was, aud what he was about.” “And the day of need has come.” Don’t you think that eitherand she reached out her hand for the bottle. “ 1 can get along nicely yet -r-biess you, I’m a star—and if no doesn’t think of me, there’s plenty as does.”

I kept my hand on the bottle, and, fixing my eyes on her, said—- “ What then?”

“ What ?■ I found he was courting another—saw them together once.” “ Aud you couldn’t stand that.”

“No, 1 coulduT—-let me have another; half “ uu.” 1 let her have. it. “1 thought once—ha, ha—wouldn’t it have been a nice go to let him marry her first, and theu— I started to my feet. “Sitstill,” she said, “and take a drop yourself, There would have been more fun in that, hut 1 couldn’t stand the thought of it; so I just waited for him one day in the street there, and put my arm in his. Hal bal He looked as if he had seen a ghost.” “ Or a devil.” “No* a ghoefc—for, you know, hq thought I was "dead* Ha! ha 1” f‘ Ah I” I gave a great sigh of re lief—Alfred Lawn had not been villain*

“ 1 had been ill, and it really got abroad that I was dead ; and, just to see what he would do, I got one of my clever friends to concoct a letter “When was that P”

“How do you think I cau remember. It; was when I was in Liverpool a year ago— or it might be two years age, it might be- But there—l’m tired waiting. What are you staling at? Haven’t you got him in the house now I Isn’t he within all the time’*

« Yes,” I said. “ Come and X will show you.” “ Ha-*! knowed it) let me see him,”

She rose, tottering, and followed me into the studio.

Alfred had been laid out on a table, which they had placed just over the spot where 1 had seen him lying at noon,

I turned up the gas, the light of which a reflector threw straight down on the sheeted form, arid drawing the white covering from the white face saidt—

“ There he is—there is your handiwork.” There was a smothered scream as she stoqd transfixed —sobered almost -—by the sight. She gaaed, but spoke no word. “ Go, murderess ” I hissed through my teeth 5 “ Go from hence, and drag out your miserable years ia the

darkness and dirt out ot which you have come!”

Turning, still without a word, she staggered from the room, and a moment after I heard the outer door close behind her.

Geegson Gow.