A FATAL DOSE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVII, Issue 259, 6 November 1906, Page 6

A FATAL DOSE.

By FRED M. WHITE, |

Author of "The Corner House," "Craven Fortune," etc. i

Well, Robert, if you would be so good as to shave mc, and put the diamond studs in my dress shirt, I think I shall be able to manage the rest." Robert neither bowed nor smiled, he seemed to take the whole thing absolutely for granted. "Very good, sir," he said. "You will find everything ready if you come this way. Perhaps you would like a bath." Too utterly dazed now to make any further comment, Cleave followed the soft-footed servant into a bedroom at the end of a corridor. It was obviously a man's room somewhat plainly furnished, but lacking nothing that any man , of fashion could desire. Here were sil-ver-mounted toilet requisites on the dressing-table, brushes, combs, a case of razors, everything necessary. As Robert turned up the lights, Cleave could see a bathroom leading out of the apartment beyond. As he turned his critical eyes round the room, he could see a black mass on the bed. which resolved itself presently into a dress suit. Here were also ties, socks, silk underclothing, nothing lacking in the way of wardrobe. To Cleaves amazement he saw that everything here was marked with his own initials. •'I shall wake up presently," he muttered, "and find myself on a seat in Hyde Park. This is nothing else but delirium, and yet circumstances over which I have no control have deprived mc of intoxicants for the last few weeks. Robert, you are a veiitable magacian. 1 deliver myself absolutely into your hands." j The whole thing was done at length, and Cleave stood before the long looki ing glass trying to identity his own features. The scraggy beard was gone, I the change from rugs to purple and fine I linen had made a wonderful difference Ito the man. He held his head higher, he felt on more equal terms with the i world. The touch of the soft silken unj derclothing gave him a certain sense of power. Robert stood at his elbow holding out a gold mounted cigarette ease, he struck a match subserviently. | "Oh, yes," Cleave said, "I will not ! disguise to you. my good Robert, that I have not smoked a cigarette of this quality for the past three years. This is excellent. It brings back recollections of my gilded past. Now let us proceed with the adventure. What is the next stage of the programme?" "Supper, sir," Robert said practically. "Will you be good enough to follow mc to the dining room. _ly employer will be here presently, and then my task is finished. If there is anything else you might require, perhaps you would be good enough to ring the bell, sir. 1 I shall not be far away." Feeling as if all the world were at his feet, Cleave strolled into the dining room. A day or two before he had been glad enough to eat the most indifferent food. Now his critical eye 'noted with approval the daintily set out supper table. Everything there was cold, as if the owner of the flat had intended that the meal should be partaken of without the presence of servants. There were gold foiled bottles on the sideboard, a tempting array of rubylilled decanters on the flower-decked table. Without hesitation, Cleave poured himself out a large glass of claret and drank it with a zest and gusto. Tlie generous wine glowed in his veins. "Chateau Lafittc." he said. "Oh, how the taste brings back memories of the dear dead past. 1 wonder what it all means. I wonder who the pliilanthropist is who has arranged this delightful little comedy for my delectation. But possess your soul in patience. Jasper you will know before very lon<>." The words were hardly uttered before the door opened and a tall dark woman swept into the room. There was a pleased -mile of welcome on her face, she extended both hands in the heartiest possible fashion to her visitor. "This is an unexpected meeting, Jasper." she said. "Eleanor Marsh." Cleave cried. "Eleanor Marsh, as I am alive. Sit down at once and tell mc what all this means." jTo be continued daily.)

CHAPTER V. A B-OL-lANG STONE. The outcast wandered on, stopping from time to time as if waiting or hoping for something. He was conscious of the suspicious glances of the passersby; he noticed also that more than one policeman took a mental note of him. It was not to be wondered at : despite the way he carried himself, his general appearance was suspicious to the last degree. His shabby frock suit at one time had been fashionable enough —indeed, frayed and creased and soiled as it was, the flavour of Bond-street still clung to it. The coat was buttoned up tightly, to disguise the absence of a shirt, the greasy top hat was stuck on the head at a deiiant angle. Altogether a man to be avoided, as a glance at his shifty eye and unshaven face testified. And yet there was a time when Jasper Cleave had walked the West End on terms of equality with all of them. He had been accounted a good fellow and a good friend. Hej 'had ample means at his disposal, and more than one designing mother had been ready to welcome him in the guise of a son-in-law. But there had been a weak spot somewhere —something wanting in the man's mental fibre. There had been a scandal sudden and unexpected, and Jasper Cleaves place knew him no more. Thence, he had drifted abroad as men of his class do; the waters of oblivon had closed over his head; his name was never mentioned now. Those had been terribly trying years for the broken and ruined gambler. He had starved with others of his clan, he Had seen many strange and unspeakable experiences, and now some backwater of the sea of life had cast him back upon the streets of London utterly without hope, without friends, absolutely devoid of money. He had come down to his last farthing now, he had made up his mind that for to-night at any rate he must sleep in the Park or on the Embankment. It was no fault of his, of his virtue, that he had come to this desperate pass, it was not that he had scorned to stoop to crime the simple fact being that he did not know where to begin and where to find the class of associate most congenial to his present mood. He was at war with all mankind, he was ready to take advantage of any opportunity, honest or otherwise. His wandering footsteps brought him presently to the line block of buildings known as Courtville Square. Here he paused and looked about him curiously. The grounds were all fresh to him, these fine series of flats had not existed when he went away. He could see the blinds pulled up somewhere on the second floor, revealing a glimpse of a luxuriously furnished room within, brilliantly lighted with soft shaded electrics. Jasper Cleave had seen nothing like this at close quarters for the last three years, the sight fascinated him. It was just possible that some quondam friend lived there, some man whose hospitality he had shared before his fall. He stood there almost fascinated by the sight; he was still gazing at the fairy scene when he turned to see a neatly-dressed man servant standing by his side. With a bitter smile he noticed that this be-au ideal in the way of a servant actually lifted a subservient hat to him. "I beg your pardon, sir," the neat servitor said, "but am 1 not speaking to Mr Jasper Cleave V Cleave laughed aloud, the irony of the situation appealed to his cynical humour, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be addressed in this fashion, he felt himself in every way inferior to the man who addressed him. He was disposed for the moment to deny his own identity. There might be some subtle scheme behind all this. On the other hand, it was just possible that the man had recognised him. Also, whatever scheme was afoot, Jasper Cleave could not possibly be worse off than he was at that moment. "Well," he said, guardedly, "we will suppose, for instance, that my name is Cleave. What, have yon to say to that 2 What business can it be of yours?" The man-servant lost not a whit of his subservient manner, he might have been speaking to Ids own employer. "[ have been tracking you all day. sir," he said. "My employer would like to see you. There is only one stipulation —that you ask no questions and do exactly as you are told. Believe mc, sir, it will be to your advantage to fall in with my suggestion." Cleave grinned evilly as he noted his own sorry rags. Any change from the present situation must be distinctly and emphatically to his advantage. "Where does your employer live?" he asked. The servant pointed to the brilliantly lit up room opposite. "That is the dining room, sir," he said. "If you are not disposed to fall in with the suggestion n "Lead on," Cleave said hoarsely. "Lead on, my good fellow; at the present moment I am not in the position to decline anything that looks like giving mc a respectable meal, to be followed, if the gods are good, by a cigar and a cup of coffee." The man-servant led the way across the flagged hall and up the steps into the most perfectly appointed suite of rooms that the adventurer had seen for many a long day. He felt a little uplifted by the sight of so much good taste and luxury. It reminded him of the time that had gone for ever. All the same he did not fail to detect a certain note of femininity in the arrangements of the flat. It could not be possible that some lady had suddenly fallen in love with him. Cleave thought grimly. Though certainly the whole thing had a distinct suggestion of the "Arabian Nights" about it. The silent man-ser-vant might have passed for a slave of the ring, quite up-to-date. Cleave could sec the man regarding his tattered wardrobe more or less critically in the strong light. "Perhaps," he said, "you would like to make some little change in your dress before supper. If you will come to the bedroom with mc I shall be very pleased to you " "Certainly," Cleave said grimly. "I shall find my kit bag and dressing-ease laid out for mc. As I have just come off a long voyage, my somewhat dilapidated appearance may be pardoned. Now what am Ito call you? Robert?!