A Great Surprise

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue VII, 12 August 1899, Page 230

A Great Surprise

By

WILLIAM SCOTT.

CHAPTER 1. It will be in the recollection of many of my readers that a great sensation was caused about the year 1866 by the sudden disappearance of a prominent star from the concert , room, music hall, burlesque, opera bouflfe and pantominme stages. Though he bad pleased the public eye as a first-class entertainer in his varied lines for over a dozen years he slipped out of the range of public vision just as completely as though he had never been in it. His reputation was splendid, and he eould command the highest terms, vying in that respect with such l>opular artistes among his contemporaries as Arthur Lloyd, the great Vance, George Leybourne, or Harry Clifton, with much more variety than any of them in his style of performance. He was a piano, violin, flute and drum soloist, good at Christy Minstrel business, a capital dancer and a thoroughly cultured and humorous "coinique,” as well as an attractive tenor vocalist, for he possessed a voice of much compass and sweetness. His only real rival at the time was the versatile Tom Maclagan. To the publie and in the profession he was only known as Cross, the announcements of his appearances usually running.

"Cross! Cross! ! Cross! ! !” Ocsionally he accepted engagements at the theatres for light opera, and the burlesque business of that pericd. and I have seen him playing a leading part in the pantomime at the Theatre Royal. Manchester, with great success. A feature of his “business” was a capital imitation of great singers and actors. Sims Reeves being one of his finest character impersonations.

From the very first Cross had been a successful man in a financial sense, always drawing large salaries and making additional money by occasionally travelling with first-class comic concert companies under his own name, and it was never known nor even suspected that he was extravagant or speculative, the idea rather being that he was careful and prudent and addicted to safe investments. At the time of his disappearance he was working four London music halls each night, driving from one to the other in a light landau drawn by a pair of fast ponies, finishing nightly at the Oxford, and he was then earning close upon a hundred pounds a week. He lived in modest apartments in one of the best streets running off Covent Garden, and one memorable Friday he summonsed his landlady to his sittingroom, paid his bill, gave notice of his intention to leave, and added a fortnight’s instead of a week’s money in consequence of the legal informality of his announcement. Great regret was felt by the lady at the loss of such a lodger.

“I hope you have been satisfied with the way we have treated you. sir.' she remarked inquiringly and almost with the ears in her eyes. “Quite so. Mrs Talbot." was his re ply. “I have never had occasion to complain of anything. Don’t fret about it. It is no fault of yours nor mine, and can't be helped. Come. I’ll write you a testimonial.” He sat down at his desk and there and then dashed off the following: — “I have had apartments off and on at the house of Mrs Talbot for over ten years, always when I have been appearing in town. I have invariably been comfortably and kindly treated—made to feel at home in fact—while the charges have been moderate and honest. Well furnished rooms, scrupulous cleanliness, most careful attention and good cookery have added to the charm of living in the house of such a model landlady, my arrangements with whom I am sincerely sorry to terminate.—CßOSS. - ’ This was sufficient to gain patronage for Mrs Talbot, who sorrowfully regretted his leaving apart altogether from her own personal interest in the change. His boxes were consigned to a pantechnicon, from which they were removed on the Monday following, and there all trace of them ended. Cross paid his man's wages and board wages for a month in advance, and on the Saturday night gave him orders to drive the ponies and carriage to the well-known livery stables from which they had been hired and leve them

there. They were afterwards sold to a dealer in horses ami traps, and acquired by the great Maclagan, who suecewled Cross in his engagements and secured the services of the discarded man. All the charges of the stable keeper had been previously ]>aid. So there the matter ended. Cross had disappeared, and the fact was accompanied by all sorts of rumours, surmises, and investigations, though no inquiry was instituted by anyone who was supposed to be really interested in the mising man or his fate.

1 knew Cross well, and made some I>ersonal and unauthorised inquiries aliout him. There was no reason why he should have kept out of my way, but every reason for his declaring himself. When he was out with touring concert companies, the town in which I then resided always proved one of the most remunerative which he visited. His entertainments were managed by a local committee, of which I happened to be the treasurer. and for one of these 1 had a cheque to pay him for some seventy pounds as his personal profits aftsr all the expenses had been deducted from the gross receipts. I had drawn this cheque, and was anxious :o get rid of it, but all my efforts to find Cross resulted in failure. He couid not be traced, and an advertisement which I inserted in the “Era,” asking him to forward his address, met with no response. The favourite entertainer had completely dropped out of sight, and after the fact had been made a nine days' wonder, it was quite forgotten, as is usually the way in such cases in this variable world of ours. I had put the cheque in my pocketbook, and there it remained. I had always a sufficient balance at my banker’s in those days to meet such a call, and I naturally expected that one day or other a request would be made for payment, though as it happened that had not been the case. There was the off-chance, too, that in my frequent business journeys from place to place I might one day run across the missing artiste. And I did. after a lapse of about fourteen years. In the severe winter of 1880-81, as luck would have it. 1 was practically if not literally snowed up in the good old town of Rylstone on the Welsh and English border, about two hundred miles distant from the locality in which I resided. It was slow work, but to my delight in wandering along the market-place I espied a placard announcing that a high-class concert company was to appear that night in the Town Hall, under the auspices of a local institute. Tickets were to be had at an adjacent music seller’s, and 1 went and secured one at once. Then, as fate would have it, on returning to my hotel, and almost at the door, I came face to face with Cross, not much altered in appearance since I saw him last. “Halloa, old fellow,” I exclaimed, “this is indeed a pleasure”—holding out my hand for an expected grasp. Therein I was disappointed. Cross stopped, it is true, but regarding me with a stony stare, drawled out rhe words.

“A’ou have the advantage of me. sir;” but from the tone of his voice, one not easily forgotten, I knew that 1 was right. “Come, none of that. Cross,” I replied, you know me well enough, and more by token, I have a cheque drawn in your favour in my pocket at this very moment.” “You are quite mistaken, sir,” he retorted, “my name is not Cross, and I cannot charge my memory with having ever met you in the whole course of my life.” “It won’t do, my boy, it won’t do.” said I seriously, “you cannot deceive me. But never mind; your secret, if you have one, is safe with me, whatever it may be. Just step into the hotel, and I will soon put matters right.” The chief constable of the borough chanced to be passing at the time, and Cross: beckoned him over, saying. "Mill you kindly tell this gentleman who 1 am.”

••Everybody knows that, sir," answered’the officar, laughing. "This sir/’ to me, "is Thomas Richmond, Esq.. J.P., of Herne Hail, about three miles -away.” Mv confidence in my own judgment was’ somewhat shaken by this statement, especially when on entering the hotel—the Hornsey Arms, as was done at mv suggestion —Mr Baster the landlord, who by the way was mayor of the town, confirmed the intelligence, and looking out of one of the windows in the coffee room, where we were, remarked, calling my attention to it. “That is Mr Richmond’s carriage, which has just driven up, and its occupant is his daughter Norah." "I must go now,” said the supposed Cross; “Norah is well wrapped up, but 1 must get home as we are coming buck to the concert to-night.” A bottle of Roederer had been opened on my order, and the four of us drank mutual good healths, when Mr Richmond, as they called him, took his departure, and got into his carriage. leaving me completely puzzled and mystified. I said nothing to the others about my recognition of Cross, as it seemed evident on the first blush that 1 had been mistaken, but 1 still entertained my suspicions. Snow fell heavily that afternoon, -and a telegram was received by mine host the mayor stating that owing to a block in a cutting on the Great Western line near Birmingham, the concert company had been detained for many hours, and might arrive, if at all. too late for the commencement of the entertainment. This was bad news, but the most that could be done was to hope for the best. The concert had been announced to commence at eight o’clock, and an informal meeting of the committee was held at the Hornsey Arms about halfpast seven, and while they were in conclave another telegram was received stating that the company could not get beyond Shrewsbury, and would not reach Rylstone that night. This was disheartening news, especially as the audience had begun to assemble, and many of them had come considerable distances.

The Mayor came into the smokeroom where I was having a quiet cigar by myself, and after recounting all the circumstances, knowing that 1 was a man of the world, boasting some experience in connection with public entertainments, asked what I would advise them to do. Now all this time I had been reflecting upon my encounter with the gentleman w horn 1 now more firmly than ever believed to be Cross, and without thinking of what I was recommending I blurted out, “Get Richmond, J.P., to sustain the whole programme. He is quite capable.”

Leqse. received this piece of advise with a roar of laughter.

“Why." he exclaimed, "he can’t play a single instrument, and has not a note in his voice. It has been the cause of numerous remarks among his friends here, who have been continually expressing their regret that an intelligent, clever, well-educated man like Richmond—for he is an Oxford graduate—has never been taught to play, sing, or even dance.” Now this exactly confirmed my suspicions. "You try him,” I said. “Well, I will, for the fun of the thing.” “Get him to play the opening pianoforte solo to begin with, and leave the rest to ehance.” By this time Richmond had joined the committee, after having left his wife and daughter at the Town-hall, and was present when the Mayor made the proposal, which was received with perfect screams of hilarity, one of The gentlemen, Sir George Hornsey. I believe, who was one of the rough and ready squire class, exclaiming, “What, a duffer like him! \\ hat the deuce does he know about it? He can’t play, and as for aught else he’s timber-tuned.” "1 have to thank Breeze,” that was me. “for this.” observed Richmond or ( ross quietly, “but after all I may as well own up. I am tired of the part 1 have been playing, and this will be a good chance for getting nicely, out of it.” This to the intense astonishment of all the gentlemen present. “I don’t mind playing the pianoforte solo.” he continued, “if his worship will give me a very eonciliatory introduction, with a special ajxdogy.” After much uproarious and sceptical merriment the offer was accepted.

As I was leaving the hotel for the hall, 1 encountered the committee, who were going also, and being addressed by the Mayor, I joined them. On the way Richmond called at the shop of a music-seller who had kept Often longer than usual for the purpose of selling tickets, and having secured a selection of music and borrowed a violin, flute, and small drum, which he directed to be sent to the hall, he joined the rest of us at the door, and, while we were taking our seats he and the Mayor went round to the rooms behind the platform. The proceedings were opened by the Mayor, who read the telegram stating the impossibility of the engaged company arriving in time, and added that if the audience chose to spend a couple of hours there, since they were assembled, the weather being very rough, the committee would do their best to see that they were pleasantly entertained, and concluded by announcing that Mr Richmond, of Hearne Hall, had kindly consented to play the opening pianoforte selection. A greater surprise never fell upon an audience. The non-musieal qualities of Mr Richmond were public property. and those present were so much astonished that they allowed him to commence with but one welcoming plaudit, and that was from myself. His fine playing electrified them, however, and he finished amidst a prolonged outburst of applause. An encore was insisted upon, and in response he said that as they would want variety be would give them a song if Mr Wilkinson, a local organist who was present, would consent to accompany him. No sooner said than done, and thereupon he gave “My Pretty Jane.” in almost perfect imitation of Sim Reeves, replying to a second encore with “Come into the garden. Maud.” But why go over that wonderful night’s programme? Cross, with the aid of the local accompanist, sustained it all. He gave a violin solo, a flute solo, sang a Christy Minstrel melody, and follower! it up by a stepdance. Then he gave a once favourite comic song, one of Offenbach's tenor solos, and “The bowld soger boy” with drum obligato. In the most literal sense he took the house by storm, and before all was done my whispers to my neighbours had let the cat out of the bag to one or two, and the great Cross stood declared. At the close of the performance he sent for me. shook hands, and apologised for his original non-recognition. I took out my pocket-book and displayed the ancient cheque. “Well,” he said laughingly. “I cannot conscientiously accept that now. but 1 am quite willing that you should pay it over to the treasurer of the institution on behalf of which the concert has been held. My services —my compulsory services I may say,” with a meaning look at me, “must of course be given gratis, but in the circumstances the company engaged must be paid in full with all the extra expenses in which they have been involved. They must not be allowed to suffer on any account.” This proposal was quite acceptable to me, so I destroyed the old and wrote a new cheque upon the spot. “Now,” said Richmond, as I suppose I ought to call him. “you must come out. to Hearne Hall and stay a few days with me. The Mayor will drive you out, as he dines with us to-mor-row. So bring your traps, and when we get alone in the old style over a pipe and glass in my own snuggery I’ll explain everything." CHAPTER 11. Next afternoon the Mayor and I drove out as arranged to Hearne Hall, a modern but picturesque mansion on a smallish scale, embowered in trees, and approached through a beautiful if somewhat miniature drive. Our host, who was still somewhat unconventional. gave us a cordial welcome in person, but as we were a trifle late, owing to the state of the roads, we had no more than time to go to our respective apartments and dress for dinner. In the drawing-room, not very large, but elegantly furnished and adorned, I was introduced to Mrs Richmond. She was one of the loveliest women I ever met. She was tall, willowy, as we would say nowadays, but with a full rounded form and a complexion which was not so pale as her piercing black eyes and full volume of rave hair would have led one to expect. She was extremely gracious to me. probably because I had been slightly associated with the past .life of her husband, and by some mysterious arrangement I had to take her

down to dinner, and the Mayor of Rylstone was left out in the cold, in the sense that he was called upon to escort a fashionable dowager whom he detested —so he told me afterwards in strict confidence. 1 soon discovered that my hostess was as intelligent as she was beautiful, and 1 began to wonder somehow what it all meant. The dinner party was a great success. The ice having been broken to a few as to the identity of my friend Cross with our host there was no limit to conversation regarding his stage experiences. ami with much combined modesty and humour he amused his guests by the narration of some most comical incidents in connection with his career, but told as if they referred to some other person, which caused great laughter, in which his good lady most heartily joined. She was exceedingly kind to me. and often interpolated explanations of some of the passages of his reminiscences, even going the length of saying: •'You must know, Mr Breeze, that I fell in love with my husband at first sight, and that his case was the same as my own.” She was really a very charming and communicative lady. Our evening in the drawing-room was delightful. Richmond’s powers had been discovered. but only a few of those present knew or suspected anything about his antecedents, including his wife, the

Mayor, who kept the secret, and myself. He gracefully responded to several demands upon his skill, ami I shall never forget the look of blank amazement with which one of the ladies there regarded his jierformauce on the pianoforte and his singing. It was soifiewhat late when the party separated, ami my friend's narrative was reserved for the following night. Next day the weather was too bail for any outdoor amusement, so a drive into Rylstone in a closed carriage to attend a meeting of the concert committee was all that we were able to accomplish. My wonderful discovery of the real original Cross, who once so mysteriously disappeared. though only communicated to a few, had made me a sort of ex-ofticio member, and I was glad to learn that the company engaged had been paid in full, with all the extra expenses involved in the compulsory delay to which they were subjected notwithstanding their inability to appear.. The proceeds of my cheque had l>een added to the profits which had accrued from, so far as nearly all present were concerned, a still inexlicable entertainment. That night at Hearne Hall we dined en famille. and after the retirement of the ladies Richmond and I found our way to his own snuggery, where he frankly told me his story in almost the following words: —

“I hardly know whether to be pleased or annoyed with you. Breeze, for unearthing me. 1 shall have no more l>eaee at our pleasant parties in this neig-hltourhood. There can be no harm, however, in giving you an outline of what it has all been about. My father was at one time a well-to-do gentleman farmer in Shropshire, and quite able to give me the college education which he did, but just about that time he fell upon evil days, and was compelled to greatly reduce the size of the holding. I am a graduate of my university, but having no means of my own nor much, if any, prospects from the old gentleman, I was brought face to face with the choice of a profession. I felt innately that I was quite unfit to be a clergyman, and that it would be little short of downright wickedness on my part to take orders or secure ordination. With the law 1 had no Sympathy. My grandfather had suffered sorely in his means from his experiences of the gentlemen of the long robe and their clever services. The idea of medicine 1 could not stand at all. Not only did 1 regard it with repugnance, but I felt that 1 was too chicken-hearted and had too little nerve to confront death or the performance of an operation. I might have become a naval officer or mate of a merchantman, but I disliked the sea, and soldiering was clearly out of my line. To add to all this I would seem to have been a born Bohemian, since I had no taste for commerce, manufactures, or even engineering. / “Literature?” I queried. “No.” “Art?”

“No, no. Not as you apply the word.” ; “So there you came to the end of your tether,” I ventured to comment. “By no means. I did think of literature for an afternoon, for I could write in those days with some grace and effect, but found on inquiry that most of the avenues to success in that direction were closed. Well, what would you? I possessed a good, well-cultured voice, considerable powers of mimicry, quite a fresh style of comedy business in the vocal line, could dance, too, and as regards playing musical instruments was considered equal to most professionals, for I was a fairly good performer on the cornet and clarionet, as well as on the violin and flute, w-hich I chiefly affected. In point of fact, I was looked upon as the best amateur at my alma mater.”

“No wonder that you got on,” was my quiet observation. “I did get on,” he responded with enthusiasm. “My success was immense. To use a modern vulgarism, I ‘caught on’ at once, and for twelve .years I was earning close upon three thousand pounds per annum. I was of a careful disposition, never spending money foolishly, nor facing serious risks. I opened no new theatres, nor concert rooms, and never speculated in shares, but trusted to the absolute safety of corporation stock and the three per cents. Perhaps you would hardly believe it from what you know of the methods by which I amused my audiences, but I sometimes took a turn at oratorio, not on my own account, but as a substitute for a friend. From this came the crisis of my life. I was singing in the ‘Messiah’ at Exeter Hall in place of W. H. Cummings, I think it was, when I met my fate. My eyes caught those of the most lovely and sympathetic woman I ever saw, and I thought that she returned an answering glance. My heart had gone out from me and I guessed somdhow that it was the same with her.” “Rather sudden wasn’t it?” but he ignored the question. “On inquiry,” he went on, “I found that she was Miss Emma Powell, the only daughter of Sir Peter Powell, a newly-created baronet, who had made a fortune as a brewer. I learned that he was a proud, stern, 'haughty man though in trade, and that there was no hope of doing anything with him by means of an introduction. Thereupon I determined upon taking the bull by the horns, boldly called upon the supposed to be irascible old gentleman, found him to be as mild as milk, and asked him to introduce me to his daughter, in order that 1 might have an opportunity of paying my addresses to her with a view to matrimony. He heard me with great patience, and then naturally enough laughed outright. He ex-

pressed his willingness to give me a further hearing, however, and asked me to tell him all about myself. I raid that I was a University man, that my name was Cross, and that I was a musician, vocalist, and actor employed in concert-rooms, theatres, and music halls.

“‘Ah! 1 know you now,’ he said with more 'hearty laughter than before. ‘Many a time have I enjoyed your performances, but you can easily see that it will not do. It's a good and bold idea though. Now as to your income ?” “ ‘About three thousand a year.’ “ ‘Your realised means?’ “ ‘Twenty-five thousand.’ “ ‘You have been a careful man, my dear Cross, which is more than might have lieeu expected, but it will not do. 1 will never sanction fhe courtship, not to say the marriage of my daughter with anybody in any way connected with the stage. Y’ou remember the story of Davy Garrick and Alderman Gresham. You be the Garrick and me the Gresham, and there we shall end the matter. 1 shall not trouble you to make a fool of yourself before my daughter, however. I have to thank you for your honourable conduct in first coming to myself, and so we conclude the treaty,” and he bowed me out. “I was too much in earnest to submit to a finish of that kind, and so I quietly got rid of all my stage and platform associations. Then 1 came down to this part of the country, where my father-in-law’s estate is situated, discovered that Hearne Hall w it'll its moderate quantity of acres was for sale, and bought it off-hand. I assumed my own name, and the local press announced my advent as the son of Wilfrid Richmond, the great Shropshire landowner and agriculturist. I had taken the precaution, in order to make this feasible, of increasing my father's holding to a thousand acres or so. but unhappily he did not live long to enjoy 'his renewed prosperity, and as my dear mother had gone before him 1 inherited the lease and all its surroundings as the sole heir, and have kept the place going ever since at a large annual profit. Here 1 did_not betray myself, and for the matter of that I di not obtrude myself. The county families approached me before I dreamed of making interest with them. A general election came on. My personal politics had the necessary Conservative moral flavour and i was placed upon the committee of Sir Walter Byng, Bart., who inveig’hed me by the way intobeinga Freemason. 1 was invited to Roby Castle, the place of Sir Peter Powell, and was formally introduced to his daughter Emma." The worthy baronet did not recognise me any more than if 1 had been the original Adam. 1 do not think that she knew me at first, but her eyes wore a troubled look, and so to get rid of my old associations, I boldly declared that I did not know a note of music, that I could not play upon any instrument, nor dance a step. Sir Peter liked me none t'he less on that account, and so I made my way into his good graces, while also finding a place in his daughter s affections. We had plighted our troth long before 1 dared to ask her father’s consent, but when I did so it was given most graciously. “ ‘There was a theatre chap,’ he confidentially informed me, ‘who proposed for her, with plenty of money too, but do you think I would have it? Not likely. ' I gave him the cold shoulder with' a vengeance, 1 can tell you. He had some brass, too, as I said, but then, my dear boy, you have land.’ "‘Good.’ said I to myself; "he has not recognised me,’ and that, as I thought, for the very reason that I had taken care to "make up" a little before I had spoken to him on the first memorable occasion which had changed my career in life.” I stared open-mouthed, and could scarcely ejaculate — "But' my dear fellow, apart from your evident domestic happiness, how do you get on?” “Well. better than you would think,” he answered. “Emma is a jewel. Of course before our marriage I told her all the truth about my love and my reasons for abandoning popularity, ami she indulged in such a fit of merriment that 1 had to clasp her in my arms to save her from hysterics. 1 have since become a great favourite with my father-in-law, who is one of the best fellows living, and is going into Parliament at the next

election for his native town. He has looked upon me as a shrewd, practical agriculturalist, and, as he has no son, proposes to get me made heir to the l>aronetcy. Our daughter Norah, whom you have seen, is a lovable girl, and our son Peter, for a three-year-old, promises well.” We continued for some time, after this to smoke the pipe of peace, and then we parted for the night, with envy on my part, 1 must confess, at his happy lot. Next morning I felt quite at home, and during breakfast Bichmond talked freely about his past, and wound up by saying—- “ After all, Breeze, old fellow, we have got a skeleton in our cupboard. Come and see it.” Mrs Richmond seemed to be vastly amused, but graciously accompanied us to a small back room on the second floor, the whole contents of which was a large box, locked and padlocked. The. keys were at the lady’s girdle, and with a really comic smile she proceeded to open the treasure chest, remarking as she did so: “This has nothing in common with the sad story of the Mistletoe Bough.” She threwup the lid. and lo and behold there were the chief properties which had been used by her husband in his professional days—wigs, swords, costumes and all. She laughed outright, remarking, “Papa knows nothing about this yet, but after Tuesday night, though he was not at the concert, he must soon know about everything.." In consequence of the continued severity of the weather that winter, which will still be remembered, I had to stay a few days at Hearne Hall, and was delighted with the kindly and gracious hospitality showered upon me by host and hostess alike, but at last the exigencies of business called me unwillingly away.

I heard no more about Richmond during the next ten years, but what I learned from the newspapers. I knew that not only had Sir Peter Powell. Bart., found a seat in Parliament, but also that Mr Thomas Richmond himself was an M.P., and a promising legislator. Having had occasion to visit Rylstone in 1890, I stayed, of course, at the Hornsey Arms. Richmond, who was at home as it happened—this was during a recess—learning that I was there, sent his carriage for me with a kindly request that I should be his guest, which I could not and did not refuse. I had a very pleasant time of it on the day of my arrival at Hearne Hall, but it was only on our meeting in the drawing-room before going down to dinner that I found that Sir Peter Powell was one of the guests. It was but a small family party. Norah had been married two years before that, and was not there, and I happened to sit next to the worthy old baronet, and we got quite friendly and confidential. We did not wait long at table after the ladies had retired, but the old gentleman insisted that he and I should have a “quiet do,” as he put it, by ourselves in a small nook off the billiard-room. To this arrangement I was by no means loth, and Sir Peter quite took me under his wing. He spoke

with great freedom about the early adventures of his daughter’s husband, whose son was really to succeed to the baronetcy. That had been arranged. Sir Peter chuckled and smiled as he committed himself more and more as he went on with his story, enjoying immensely his own account of the manner in which Cross, or I should say, Richmond, had approached him to ask |>ermission to court his daughter.

“It would not have done, you know.” he concluded, "but I hail forecast the result. They are a happy couple, and when he came to see me as Cross, I knew all the time that he was Tom Richmond, and a Master of Arts into the bargain.”