Complete Story. Cressy's New year's Rent.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVIII, Issue I, 4 January 1902, Page 2

Complete Story. Cressy's New year's Rent.

A STORY OF A COLDER LAND.

Fret! Hallowell was sitting at his desk in the •’Gazette" office. looking listlesslj out into the lily Park, where the biting wind was making the snowflakes dance madly around the leafless trees and in the empty fountain, and he was almost wishing that there would be so few engagements to cover as to allow him an afternoon in-doors to write “specials. The storm was the worst of the season. and as this was the last day of December, it looked as if the old year were going out with a tumultuous train of sleet and snow. I.ut if he had seriously entertained any hopes of enjoying a quiet day. these wer<|isp< led by an th. e-boy who summoned him to the city desk. •Good morning. Mr Hallowell, said the city editor, cheerfully. “Here is a clipping from an afternoon paper which savs that a French family in Ilouston-street has been dispossessed and is in want. Mr Wilson called my attention to it because he thinks, from the number given, the house belongs to old Q. < . Baggold. We don’t like Baggold. you know, an.l if you find he is treating his tenants unfairly we can let you have all the -pace vou want to show- him up. At anv rate, go over there and see what the trouble ist there is not much going on to-day.” Fred took the clipping and read it as he walked back to his desk. It was very short —five or six lines . nly and the facts stated were about as the city editor had said. The young man got into his overcoat and wrap ped himself up warmly, and in a fewmoments was himself oattlmg against the little blizzard with the other pedestrians whom he had been watching in the City Park from the office windows. When he reached Houston-'treet he travelled westward for several blocks, until he came into a very poor district crowded with dingy tenementhouses that leaned against one another in an uneven sort of way. as f they were tired of the sad kind of life they had been witnessing for so ntanv years. The snow- that rad piled up on the window-sills and over the copings seemed to brighten up -he general aspect of the qua—.er. because it filled in the cracks and chinks of material misery, and made the buildings look at leas: temporar- . picturesque, just as paint and powder for a time may hide the traces of old age and sorrow. Fred found the number 179 painted cn a piece of tin that had become bent and rusty from long service over a narrow doorway, and as he stood there comparing it with the number given in his clipping, a little girl with a shawl drawn tightly over her head and around her thin little shoulders, came out of the dark entrance ini -topped on the door-sill for a moment, -urprised. no doubt, at the sight of the tall rosy-cheeked young man so warmly clad in a big woollen overcoat that you could have wrapped her up in several times, with goods lef: over to spare. “Hello! little girl.” said Fred, quickly. "Does Mr Cressy live here?" The child stared for a few seconds - the stranger, and then she answer- • 1. bashfully: "Yes. sir. But he has got to g<> away." “But he hasn’t gone yet?” con- • nued Fred; and then noticing that ’lie child, in her short calico -kirt. was shivering from the cold, and that her feet were getting wet with the -now. he added. "Come inside a minute and tel! me where 1 can find Mr The two stepped into the dark narrow hallway that ran through the where a narrow wimbw with a broken pane let in just enough light to prove

there was day outside. The little girl leaned against the wall, and looked up at the reporter as if she suspected him of having no good intentions toward the man for whom he was inquiring. Very few strangers ever came into that house to do good, she knew. Most of them came for money —rent money —and sometimes they came, as a man had come for Mr Cressy. to tell him he must go. "What floor does he live on?" asked F red. “On the fifth floor, sir.” answered the child. "In the back. sir. But I think he is really going away. sir. “WeU. no matter about that.” said Fred, smiling. "1 will go up and see him. I hope he won’t have to go out in the storm. It is not good for little girls to go out in the storm, either, he added. “Does your mamma know you are going out?” "Oh. yes, sir!” She has sent me the Sisters to try to get some medicine.” “Is she sick?” asked Fred, quickly. "Yes. sir.” continued the child. “What floor does she live on? I will step in and see her.” “Oh. you’ll see her! She’s in t e room, too.” “Then you are Mr Cressy’s little girl?” "Yes. sir.” So Fred patted her on the head an.l told her to hurry over to the Sisters, and gave her threepence to ride in the car: and then he opened the door for her. and as soon as she had left he felt his way back to the staircase and climbed to the fifth floor. There he knocked upon a door, which was soon opened by a man apparently forty years of age. a man of slightly foreign appearance, with a careworn look, but with as honest a face as you eould find anywhere. “Is this Mr Cressy?” asked Fred. “Yes. my name's Cressy.” replied the man. He spoke with so slight an accent that it was hardly noticeable. “I am a reporter from the •Gazette.’ ” continued Fred. "Oh!” said the man. “Come in.” and as he spoke he looked somewhat embarrassed and anxious, for this was doubtless the first time he had had any dealings with a newspaper. Lying on a bed in an alcove was a woman who looked very ill. and piled in a corner near the door were a couple of boxes and a few pieces of furniture. The stove had not yet been taken down, and some pale embers in it only just kept the chill off the atmosphere. Fred took off his hat. and led the man across the room toward the window. "Have vou been dispossessed?" he asked. "Yes.” said the man: “we must leave to-night." "Why?” asked the reporter. Cressy smiled in a ghastly sort of way. “Because.” he replied —"because I have not a cent to my name. sir. and the landlord has got it in for me—and I must go." "Who is your landlord?" asked the reporter. “Baggold—Q- C. Baggold. the shoeman." “How much do you owe?" “Four pounds—two months’ rent.” “Were you ever in arrears before?” “What’s the trouble? <bit of work?" "Yes. sir. I have been. But I've got a job now. and Fl! have money on the tenth of the month. But that is not “What is ’it.’ then?” continued Fred. “Well. I'll tell yon. 1 don’t want this in the paper, but I'll tell you. Baggold hates me. He knows the woman's sick, and he takes adrant-

age of my 'owing him to drive me out. Do you want to know why? Well, I'll tell you. I worked for him for five years, sir. in his shoe factory. He brought me over from France to do the fine work. He had a lawsuit about six months ago, and he offered me £IOO to lie for him on the stand. I would not do it. sir, and when they called me as a witness I told the truth, and that settled the case, and Baggold had to pay £2OOO. sir, for a sly game on a contract. Then he sent me off and I've been looking for a job. and I’ve got behind, and I'm just getting up again, and here he is sending me out into the snow! Tomorrow is what we call at home, in France, the jour de I'an—the day of the New Y’ear, sir. and it is a fete. And the little one here always looked forward to that day. sir. for a doll or for a few sweetmeats: but this time—l don't think she’ll have a roof for her little head! I have not a place in the world to go to. sir. but to the police station, and there's the woman on her back.” Two big tears rolled down the man's cheeks. Fred felt a lump rising in his throat, and he knew that if he had had twenty dollars in his pocket he would have given it to C ressy. But he did not have £ 4, so he coughed vigorously and put on his hat quickly and said: "Well, this is hard. Mr Cressy. I'll see what we can do. I must go up town for a while and then I’ll come baek and see you. Don't move out in this storm till the last minute.” As he rushed down the stairs he met the little girl coming baek with a big blue bottle of something with a yellow- label on it. He stopped and pulled a quarter out of his pocket, thrust it into the child's hand, and leaped on down the stairs, leaving the little girl more frightened than surprised as he dashed out into the snow. He entered the first drug store he came to and looked up Q. C. Baggold's address in rhe directory. It was nearly four o'clock, and he argued the rich shoe manufacturer would be at his home. The address given in the directory was in a broad street in the fashionable quarter of the city. Half an hour later Fred was pulling at M r Baggold*s door-bell. The butler who answered the summons thought Mr Baggold was in. and took Fred's card after showing the young man into the parlour. This was a large, elegantly furnished room filled with costly ornaments, almost anyone of which, if offered for sale, wonld have brought the amount of Creasy’s debt, or much more. Presentlv Mr Baggold came into the room. He was a short man. with

a bald head and a sharp nose, and his small eyes were fixed very close to one another under a not very high forehead. "I am a reporter from the “Gazette.” began Fred at once. “I have called to see you, Mr Baggold, about this man Cressy whom you have ordered to be dispossessed.” “Ah. yes,” said Mr. Baggold, smiling. “My agent has told me something about this matter, but I hardly think it is of sufficient importance to be of interest to the readers of the 'Gazette.’-” •'The readers of the ‘Gazette,’ ” continued Fred. l ‘are always interested in good deeds. Mr. Baggold. and especially when these are performed by rich men. I came here hoping you would disavow the action of your agent, and say that the Cressys might remain in the room.” "Nonsensel” replied Mr. Baggold. “I cannot interfere with my agent. I pay him to take care of my rents, and I can't be looking after fellows who won't pay. This man Cressy is in arrears, and he must get out.” "But his wife is sick.” argued Fred. "Bah!” retorted the other. “That is an old excuse. These scoundrels try all sorts of dodges to cheat a man whom they think has money.” "This woman is actually sick. Mr. Baggold." said Fred, severely, “and to drive her out in a storm like this is positive cruelty." "C ressy has had two weeks to find other quarters, and to-morrow is the first of the month. I can’t keep him any longer.” “Yes. to-morrow is the great French fete-day. and you put Cressy in the street.” "My dear sir.” returned the rich man. “I cannot allow sentiment to interfere with my business. If I did I should never collect rents in Hous-ton-street. And. as I told you before. I do not see that this question is one to interest the public. It is purely a matter of my private business.” “Very true.” replied Fred: “but I don't think it- would look well in print.” This statement seemed to startle Mr. Baggold a little, and Fred thought it made him feel uncomfortable. There was a brief silence, after which the rich man said: “It would depend entirely upon how you put it in print. To teU you the truth. I am not at all in favour of these sensational articles that so many newspapers publish nowadays. Reporters often jump at conclusions before they are familiar with the facts of a case, and it makes things disagreeable for aH concerned. Now. if you will only listen to me. sir. I think we can come to an un-

derstanding about this Cressy matter. I don't want anything about it to get into the papers—especially now. I have many reasons, but I cannot give them to you. Yet I think we can come to an understanding, he repeated, as he looked at Fred and smiled. “How?” asked the reporter. “Well.” drawled Mr. Baggold. “there are some points that I may be able to explain to you. Of course I don't want to put you to any trouble for nothin?. If it is worth somethin? to me not to have Notoriety thrust upon me. of course, on the other hand, it misfit be worth something to vou to cause the notoriety. But jwst excuse me for a moment. Tt n <»<rold arose hastily and stepped into a rear room, apparently his library or studs’. “TfT'm ” thought Fred to himself. “This old chap taTks as though he were s-oing to offer me money. Td lust like to see him try! Fd give him such a roasting as he has never had before! Some of these crooked old millionaires think that sort of thin? works with reporters, but Til show him that it does not. T have never known a newspaper man yet that would accept a bribe. And as Fred mused in this fashion Mr. Bn-r?old returned. He bore a Inn? vellow envelope in his hand. "Here “ he said, “are some papers and other things that T should like to have von look over before yon wmte the article. I think thev will influence von in vour opinion of the matter I am sorrv I cannot tell von anv more just now. but T have an am nointment which T m«st keep. Take these papers and look them over at vour leisure, and if von find later this evenin? that thev are not sntmfactorv. T w'll talk with yon further Good afternoon, sir. I hone yon will evenso me for the present." And so saving he handed the envelope to Fred, bowed pleasantlv. and left the room. Fred had standin? near the door, and so he put the envelope in his norVe an went out. He walked .- few bloeVs down the street, and went mto thlarge hotel on the corner in order tn get out of the storm and tn find aniet place where he might loot- oveMr Bagwold’s document. He was verv curious~to see what th»v could b» He found a seat in a secluded corner of the office, and there tore open th» envelope. To his disgust, it contained £6 and a brief note, unsigned, which read: “The accompanying papers will show vou that the matter we spoke of is not of sufficient importance to be published.” Fred Hallowell was furious. This was the first time in his brief career as a newspaper man that anything like this had happened to him. He grew red in the face, his fingers twitched, and he felt as if he had never before been so grossly insulted. As he sat in his chair, fuming and wondering what he should do. Griggs, me fat and jolly political reporter of the “Gazette." came up to him and said, laughing. “Well, you look as if you were plotting murder!” “I am—almost!” exclaimed Fred, and then he told Griggs all about what had happened. Griggs listened patiently, and at tl e end he chuckled to himself and said: “Well. Hallowell, don't waste any righteous wrath on any such stuff as that Baggold. Til tell you

hew to get even with him.” And then he talked for twenty minutes to the younger man. At the end of the conference Fred smiled and buttoned his coat, and hastened back to Cressy’s room in Houston-street. He found a Sister of Charity there nursing the sick woman. Cressy came to the door, pale and eager. “Well?” he said, nervously. “Oh. it's all right.” returned Fred, laughing. “I have just seen Mr Baggold. He said his agent was perfectly right in having you dispossessed, because that was business: but when he heard what I had to say he gave me this money.” And here Fred handed out the £6. “It is for vou to pay the agent with, and then yoc can keep your room, and you will have £2 besides.” Cressy was speechless. The sick woman wept softly. The Sister said something in Latin, and the little girl just looked: she did not understand what it was all about. “You see.” said Fred to Cressy “I suppose Mr Baggold does not want his business to be interfered with by his sentiment.” And before Cressy could reply the reporter had slipped out of the door, and in a moment was hurrying down town to his office. The next morning—Xew Year’s morning—the “Gazette” contained a metty little story of how a rich man. wh<> bad heard of the distress of a terant. nut his hand in his own pocket and naid his tenant's rent to himself, so that the new year would begin well for him by having rents coming in at the very opening of th" twelvemonth. “I’ll bet Baggold was surprised this morning when he read that.” gurgled the genial Griggs: “but it will do him more good than ten columns of abuse and exposure. So here's a Happy New Year to him!”