LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1696, 28 July 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE TWO PAINTERS; [From the “South Australian Chronicle-’’^ ( Continued.') Now, properly, I should have followed the movement of his friend Angus Maclie ; but it will be readily understood why I have not done so when I say that from the moment of leaving his friend till early next morning the doings of this gentleman are , utterly unknown to me even now. I have a : suspicion of their natu-o, it is true; but whether these were just or unjust the reader must decide for himself. This Ido 1 know, however, that in less than three hours after Guthrie dozed, off into his fevered sleep, a man—or at least- a human being in the shape of one—cautiously assended Ramsay lane from tha Bank street end, looked about to see that he was unseen. and thenj clambering over the railings,crept across the grass and soft earth at a rapid rata till he made the circuit to the spot immediately below Guthrie’s window. :Thia, as I have stated, was one-storey high, aud, therefore, by no means easy of access; bnt dark as it was the intruder appeared to have taken the bearings’ of the place sufficiently well never to falter or hesitate in his movements. A high wall ran up with the tlopo right pasti the window, and after getting astride this further down, theburglar easily ascended till within a few yards of the window, when by clinging fast to a spiked iron guard, spread out to keep back intruders, he managed to get one foot on the window sill and his right hand on the sash.

This was a feat which even at daylight I myseif would have hesitated to attempt; for had one of; the-rusty iron, spikes given way under his foot nothing could have saved him from an ignotninioas tumble down among the shrnbs below, and perhaps a broken leg or arm into the bargain ; but the man had evidently a strong incentive to the action, and came fully prepared for the risk.

Gently raising the sash, he peered anxiously into the room and across towards the open door of the bedroom but hearing nothing to alarm or disturb him he brought his second foot across' the dangerous gap cn to the window-sill, and then cautiously clambered in. Crossing straight to the easel facing the window he removed the cover, drew a clasp-knife from his pocket, and opening it up, deliberately began to scrape out the figures with the sharp point. Tho hand dealing tho blows was vigorous and unswerving ; and in a minute or two tho weary work of long mouths was obliterated and mangled into an unrecognisable piece of scrapped and scarred canvas. The monster might, have left then,, satisfied with his night’s work, bnt, not content, he slashed the knife deeply into the canvas, haggled and tore at it with his fingers in a species of mad fury, and before he could prevent it had actually overturned the easel. The heavy crash of the picture and easel on the floor was instantly echoed from, tho little bedroom, and Guthrie, fully awakened by the disturbance, appeared suddenly on the threshold in his night-dress, hurriedly and imperatively demanding who was there.

The light was dim—being only from the stars —bat it was still sufficiently clear to show the muffled figure of a man against, the sky, and an open window which before had been closed. With a shout of alarm Guthrie rushed forward, but in a moment the dark figure was out through the open window, and gone with one terrific spring down on the soft ground beneath, Guthrie saw tho man running swiftly and easily down towards Frinces-street Gardens ; but the whole was so quickly over, and nothing left visible but the dark sward and waving trees far below, that for a moment or two the young artist half believed it to be a dream

‘I must have bad the nightmare, and started up and come hero before I awoke.’’ he reasoned, as he ehiveringly closed the window. ‘ Yes, the wine has not got out of my head j et, and here the landlady will be roused, and I only laughed at for my pains. What a fool I was to shout out “ Thieves I” when there is really nothing in the room worth stealing except my picture, to be sure, and who would bs,|at the trouble to steal that ?’

Hazily rising from the chair into which he had dropped after closing the window, he groped his way across towards the bedroom, As he did so his bare feet struck sharply on the overturned easel, and he himself nearly sank to the ground with the shock of surpise. * It was no dream' after all—some one has been here at my easel—at the picture!’ he gasped, in horrified tones, kneeling besid e the mutilated painting. * Good heavens ! what is that ? My fingers go through it! It la torn —out—slashed I Oh, Godl who could find it in his heart to„do this ? lam ruined 1 lost! undone !’ For a few moments he remained on his knees, crouching low in a stnpified and half-senseless condition, with a cold sweat oozing clammily from his templesj then with a terrible effort he crawled across the room and strnck a light. The first glance at the picture confirmed the awful truth already |told by his sensitive fingers. The picture was not only slashed across with a sharp knife and torn to shreds, but had first been deliberately scraped into nonentity, scarcely a face or line in the whole picture being left whole or untouched.

Guthrie uttered a piteous moan, dropped the useless square of fluttering canvas on the floor, and, burying his face in his hands, burst into tear?, and sobbed and cried like a child. But that was only the first paroxysm. In a minute or two the dastardly act which had robbed him for ever of long months’ patient labor and thought came to his mind with overwhelming force, and, raising an outcry which made people think that he had gone mad, he awoke the whole household; rushing about the room in a distracted state, halfclothed, and finally flying out into the dark and deserted streets, where he was at last picked up in an exhausted state by one of the night policemen, and gently assisted to the Central Office, where he soon so far recovered as to be able to state in a halfchoked way what had happened. He was in a pitiable condition, having only a pair of trousers and shirt on, and being both barefooted and bareheaded, wringing his bands and crying like a child daring the whole narration ; and the night lieutenant was at first inclined to believe that he had got hold of some one scarcely right in his mind ; but a visit to Ramsay Gardens speedily put an end to the mistake so naturally fallen Into, and proved that a deliberate and atrocious crime had been committed, A message sent out to mo at the Police Depot before breakfast gave mo a rough idea of matters, and sent me up to Ramsay Gardens with quickened energies. I found Guthrie calmer, but still stunned and stupified with grief ; and, after examining carefully the traces and footprints left of the criminal, I proceeded cautiously to question him as to whether he had any enemies—particularly among his artist friends—or any one likely to be jealous of his success in this particular work. It may seem strange that such oould be the case, but here I was completely led astray byjGuthrie himself and his blind confidence in all his friends and acquaintances. My enquiries were not only ooldly received, but sharply rebuked. ‘,l have no friends or acquaintances who oould conceive such a crime, far less execute it; and you show little real knowledge of artists to believe one of them capable of mutilating such a work. A true artist is generous, unselfish, and warm hearted, and applauds a rival work to his own with the utmost franknessand with his simplicity he proceeded to relate to me the visit of Macfie the night before, and to tell how heartily ho had praised his work, even with a slight Interest in describing its merits.

Naturally I was dissatisfied, being neither so young norl inexperienced as Guthrie, and having found malice pretty evenly distributed through all professions and race of men ; and I calmly proceeeed to write •down a list of the persona, irrespective of irrfeision, who had visited (the studio and inspected the picture. Turning up this list in a half obliterated state as it nqw lies before me, I find that below the name of Ar'-hur Macfie X have drawn, at the tlrnc a

doable line, the name being the only one in the list so treated, thus indicating that from the first my suspicions had been turned in that direction. It was this very undir’.ining, indeed, that was indirectly to lead to the clue to the criminal which had given the title to this sketch. In rnning his eyes over my list, Guthrie noticed the underlining, and, blushing up to the ears, said rather warmly—*Mr MoGovan, it seems{to me that from the first mention of my friends name yon have resolved to suspect him of that dastardly act; and nothing could give mo greater pain. Macfie is my friend —the best and dearest friend—therefore I trust you will at once disabuse your mind of the idea that he could wrong me,' As he was quivering all over with excitement while he ottered the protest, I remained silent out of concern for the tronb'e and grief ha had already endured, and shortly after left him to his untaated breakfsst, while I set about my enqiuiaies in my own way. But my very gravity and silence had set him on the rack ;• doubt and suspicions began to rise in his mind, only to be repelled as they had been when advanced by myself ; till at last ho stopped making a show of eating, seized his- hat, and made his way out to George-square, to the ,home of Macfie,

Ho found l hla friend yet in bed, hut without ceremony entered the bedroom, and proceeded to- give him an account of his i'ess, Macfie listened with raised hands and apparent horror and concern, and strongly advised him to give the master into our hands and expressed the utmost satisfaction on learning that this was already dene.

Now, while Guthrie had been relating his misfortune, it happened that a claspknife, with a mother of pearl handle—which had slipped from the pocket of Macfie’s trousers, hanging over a chair back close to the bed—cauybt his eye as it lay on the Carpet, and, being of a nervous, fidgety nature,. he without thinking lifted it, opened the first blade that came to hard and began to scrape and pare his nails while speaking. When be had stopped to listen to the condolence of Macfie, he noticed a scrap of thin peeling of paint, oI a bright red color, which had got driven in between the socket of the blade and the handle, and without suspicion.he-began picking at this with his fingers, * You may he sure that the police will make all clear for you/' said Macfie, hastily getting out of bed and beginning to dress, ‘But it will bo very unfortunate for you, as yom will not now be able to exhibit this-year.’' There was- something in the tone in which these words were spoken that struck even the unsuspicious Guthrie as peculiar, and caused him to look up. keenly in the others face, when he saw Maofie’s eye fixed confusedly and) guiltily on the scrap of paint on the point of his nail, just removed from the blade of the pocketknife..

‘ Ah, thank yon —my knife; I see it has fallen from my pocket,’added Macfie, almost snaching it from his visitor’s hand; and then like a. flash,. Guthrie remembered my own expressed suspicions, and allowed his eye to travel to the boots worn by Macfie the night before, and now lying at the bed-side, dirty and muddy to the ancles. The streets outside, Guthrie perfectly well knew, were dry and clean ; and putting the two odd circumstances together, the dire thought that he was conversing with the real traitor rushed with overwhelming force across his mind, and almost caused him to sweon away on the spot. Macfie, whose eye bad followed the glance of Guthrie towards his muddy boots, hastily flung them out of sight, saying, confusedly— (lo be continued.')