THE STORY-TELLER.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIX, Issue 3160, 24 September 1892, Page 5 (Supplement)

THE STORY-TELLER.

A STRANGE ADVENTURE,

"Xd, thanks, old chap ; I really can't stop tho night, I should like to awfully, but you see, if I din't turn up the wife would be in a funk, and never go to bed at all, thinking something had gone wrong. Besides, I've got to let Jones have throe columns of copy by five o'clock to-morrow, and I haven't started yet." " Well, just as you like ; only I wish you'd have said earlier that 3'ou didn't mean stopping, so we could have telegraphed to say you wouldn't be back. It's after half past seven now. and the nearest office is five miles away, so it's too late."

It was no use, Jim Carson wouldn't stop, so 1 had to order the trap to drive him to the station, to cacch the 8.40 back to town.

After seeing him off I went to the stationmaster's office, to inqure if some things I was expecting down from London had arrived, and while there I noticed au evening paper lying on the table. It had just happened that an intimate friend of mine had a law suit ou about some copywright business, and the first hearing of the case was to have taken place that day. Thinking the affair, as far as it had proceed, might be reported, I asked the stationmaster if he would mind my having a look at the paper for a minute.

" Certainly, sir,' he said. " You may as well take it back with you, as I have finished with it. There's a pieco in about some fellow as is said to have escaped from Bradly Asylum last night, and about killed one of the warder chaps. I expect it's just one of them yarns as gets into evening papers now and again. Well, good-night, sir, I'll send up your things as soon as they arrive."

I was a long time going the three miles which lay between the station and my lately acquired domicile. Lighting a cigaretto, and leaving Tommy to shamble on as best he liked, I started to think.

Six months ago what was I ? Well, what is generally called a literary hack, getting about 3os a week—sometimes less—just because a crusty old undo on whom I was dependent had seen fit to chuck me out neck and chop for the simple reason that I didn't go in for what he wanted me to, i, e. ; the Bar.

I was of a literary turn of mind, nnd though I should never be a shining light in tho profession, I could at least earn my bread and cheese. So in a fit of anger I told the old gentleman I wouldn't be a lawyer, whereupon I was called an ungrateful, impudent, puppy, and told to do what I liked.

" Now," I thought to nryself, ' Robert Grant, if you've got to prevaricate, do if directly."

So I went in for journalism, And now poor old uncle had gone the way of all flesh, letting me in for all his estate, real and personal, including Ashworth Lodge. Old uncles who quarrel with their wilful nephews and disinherit them generally do come round at the last. Mine did it at any rate.

Jim Carson, the fellow whrm I had seen off, was an old chum of mine in the scribbling days, has just run down to see my new abode and with an uncle who had kicked him out some years ago.

Tommy aroused me from my musing by stumbling over something iu the road, and nearly throwing me out. So I gathered up the reins, and we went the rest of the journey at a smart pace.

" Benson,' I said to the man whom I engaged as a kind of valet - groom until I was properly settled, " when you have put the horse Tip. just tell Mrs Hewetson she can go home as soon as she likes, as I shan't want anything more to-night," Mrs Hewetson was the wife of the gardener, who lived about half-a-milo away, and was looking after the house and cooking for me.

It was too fine a night and too early to turn in, so I settled myself in old uncle's arm-chair bofore the dining-room window, and commenced to look over the paper I had got from the stationmaster. I looked first for the law report, but evidently tho case had not come on until late, as there was nothing in tho paper about it.

" Halloa, this must be what the stationmaster was talking about."

Escai'k op a Lunatic.—Late last evening a lunatic ramed James Stanley made good his escape from Bradley Asylum under peculiar circumstances, which will probably result in the death of one of tho attendants. It seems that last night the usu.il annual ball took place at the asylum, and several of the inmates suffering from the milder forms of insanity were allowed to be present as ordinary guests, as had been usual on all past occasions. Stanley was one of these, and suddenly he was found to be missing from the room, and on a search being made he could not he found. On proceeding outside to hunt for him, the body of one of the attenda its was discovered lying on the ground the unfortunate man having received a severe blow at the back af the head which knocked him senseless. It transpires that the missing man made his way to the room where the coats and hats were kept in eh ii .-e of a man who had only been about the place a few days, and passed himself off as one of tho guests from outside. Ho managed to seeure a hat and coat, in which he must have been detected escaping by the poor fellow whom he knocked over.

Stanley, lit the time of his flight, was attired, in addition to the things he secured, in nn ordinary black morning suit, and was weming patent leather daneing shoes. He i.s a strouar, tall fellow, standing over six feet two, dark hair, and

"•light moustache; Up to the pre.«f<n' there is no news to hand of .his re-eapttno. notwithstanding- n. vigorous search, which pursued malldirecfcione. A queer story, I thought when I had finished reading the paragraph, and more so to me because Bradley Asylum was only about three miles distant from my place, and I had received an invitation to be present at the ball in question. Thinking it might result in my getting to know some of the residents round about sooner than I should do in ordinary everyday life, I had accepted the invitation, and sent up to town for a new dresssuit and pumps for the occasion. Then .Tim Carson telegraphed in the morning he wa9 coming to see me by the first train next day to have a look round my estate, as he called it; so I gave up the idea of going, as T should be too tired in the morning to show him round. Anyhow, my toggery failed to turn up in time, so I was boxed in any case.

After reading a few more bits of news in the paper I began to feel sleepy, so I got up to go to bed— first however, going round the house to see that Benson, who was sleeping for the time being in one of the attics, had not forgotten to put the kitchen lamp out, which sometimes he did.

The window of my loom was wide open, and a lovely fresh breeze came blowing in. I sat down on the bed for a minute or two to enjoy it. A nice invitation for an enterprising bm-glar, I thought, if it were known there was anything worth stealing about the house. He could be up the trellis work in half a minute. Then the escaped lunatic, too, it might have afforded sbelter to him if closely pursued. Thus musing, I slipped off my things preparatory to getting into bed, but before doing so there was a duty I had to perform, and which I always had done since I slept in the house.

There was a door leading from my room into a kind of dressing room, whicb was sometimes opened during the day for various purposes, and in front of which a curtain was rigged up. Being naturally rather timid, I always used to see that this door was properly locked, and the space under my bed untennated ere I settled down to slumber.

Taking up the candle, I made my way across to the door, but, when within a couple of yards or so of it, I came to a dead halt. The paragraph I had read in the paper seemed to whirl through my brain, and for a moment I had hard work to keep myself from collapsing on to the floor.

The lunatic at the time of his escape was attired in a morning suit of black, and wearing dancing pumps! I was startled, I can tell you, but not without reason—for peoping out below the curtain which covered the door were the toes and a half the feet ot a pair of patent leather boots! I regained my composure gradually, and moved away towards the bed, but keeping my eye on the curtain the whole time.

Who knew but that the lunatic might have been watching me through a pin-hole in the curtain, and conjecturing the place of his concealment had been discovered, made a rush at me ? But no. He evidently was ignorant of my discovery, for the feet remained there motionless.

What was Itodo ? Here I was in a room by myself, within five yards of a madman, standing 6ft. 2in. in his socks, whom, under ordinary circumstances, it would take a couple or three men to tackle and satisfactorily dispose of. I shuddered as I thought of it.

I mentally measured whereabouts his head would be behind the curtain, and casting my eyes round the room, to my joy they rested on a pair of Indian clubs which I was in the habit of exercising with in the morning. That was my surest chance.

I moved casually across to where the clubs were standing, and, taking them up, commenced to occupy myself with a few of the exercise to work up steam for the coming blow. Now or never! Suddenly dropping one of the clubs on the bed as I brought it round, with the other I made for the door, and directed it with all my strength at where I supposed the head of the madman to be.

Crash ! I fell forward against the curtain after the blow, and com~ menced striking out savagely with my fists to follow it up. Down carno the curtain with a run, and the brass rod with it striking me on the head and completely stunning me. It must have been a peculiar sight as Benson saw it, when he came tumbling downstairs to see what all the row was about. There was I on the floor enveloped in the curtain, bleeding from a. wound above the temple, knuckles cut and bruised, and a panel of the door at the back smashed iu by the blow that would have pulverised half-a-dozen lunacies had they been there-

Tho mad—man—he's escaped ! I managed to gasp, sitting up amongst tho wreck. The 'oo sir ? anxiously asked Benson, helping me up, and leading me towards the basin in order to bathe my injured head.

Mad — man—behind the curtain. Got in at the window—escaped from Bradley Asylum last night during the ball. Wearing patent leather boo'-.s—saw them under the curtain," I jerked out spasmodically. " Saw is what ?" cried Benson, dropping the spongo ho was holding and regarding mo with amazement.

His patent leather boots, man ; peeping out from beneath the curtain. Benson seemed to jump in the air at that, Gor luminy, mister ; them worn't a madman! Them was your noo uns a? came this morning. I puts em behindt the curtains there so as to keep out the dust an' muck. Oh. lar, sir, you hev made a mistake.' By Jove, and hadn't I just; and disfigured myself for a month or so in the bargain.

There was no doubt about it, for from the folds of the curtain were shaken my new pumps, which had arrived that morning by parcel post, just as Carson turned up. Stanley, tho cause of all the confusion, had been captured that afternoon in a copse a good many miles from my place, and is still an inmate at Bradley Asylum I Jim Carson had managed to get more out of me than that I got my scar on the temple from falling off a horse, this affair would have been in print months ago. Benson knew the value of a soverign and his master's service, so I'm the first to let it reach the public.